June 1st, 2003

closeup samurai

the mellow knife.

here is a brief history of the night prior to this fine new york puddle of a morning. jenny & i navigated our way through hell & high water across the rainy streets of new york to andrew & carlas, where we were fed more diffrent types of food that i can even remember. then we all played middle earth risk- it was tense there for a moment, what with jenny attacking me from the grey havens & helm's deep holding out to prevent my control over rohan, but eventually the world was swathed in a final darkness. i couldn't be sure if the girls were really being bad sports or whether it was just jenny signing onto carla's whole brat/victim thing. towards the end there we were getting into shots, & after things with the game finally straightened up, carla segregated us into boys vs. girls & that is how conversation went the rest of the evening. but no matter what anybody said, we totally kept true to the no fighting pact. truthfully, everything was fine until after switching & shimmying around the subway, jenny started crying from frustration at the sixty third street (63 st.) station on the f train. but i finally got her on the train & while we rode it south i struggled to stay awake successfully. walking back to her apartment in the budding daylight i almost got real mad, because she just gave me everything to carry & took off walking fast. i was getting rained on, lonely, tired & drunk, but she waited for me at the door to her building so it worked out so as i didn't get mad at her. then we fell into bed a tangle, where still she lies, like a perfect egyptian queen on her death bed.

& i got an email from cortney this morning. my initial & most valid response is surpise but excitement. like, maybe at a distance we can do what was impossible before. maybe we can be friends again. i could really handle having at least an internet relationship with her. the next thought that pops into my head is to wonder if now i'm just at the same point as the boy she met at the national park. i mean, i don't have any idea at all how that scene went down other than two facts: it was messy, based on what she's told me, & two, i occasionally ran into her at the computer lab in bowman while we weren't talking & she would be writing to him. i don't know, i just hate having a yard stick against me. but i've decided to take it at face value, reply to it with 0% vinnegar, because there really isn't some bitter dram i feel like she's got to drink.
  • Current Mood
    buttermilk cheat code.

it was never about the music, it was about trying to see tori amos' tits!

my heart is filled with much mischief but the primary outlet for these sapphire coloured intentions is away in a manger. o slumbering nymph you set quill to flesh even in your dullest dream. the encryption key of your heart is the left off punctuation from cyrillic words typed on a standard keyboard. so that while others unavoidably get the gist of your femme fatale glamour, only i can hear the timbre & pitch of of it. timber & pitch; you're an ark for me to sail across shark infested sargasso seas & dolourous graveyards of lost ships. you're the curse on the hope diamond; moth thin & lucrative.

but i wish you would wake up & play with me already!
  • Current Mood
    1000 mint thins.
blur shotgun

if you are a witch i will know it through my needle.

in tenochtitlan we found evidence of their hasty departures; from their uneasy vantage, the ships of men we were forced to hide amongst must have seemed an ill omen indeed, ringed with those violent halos. it was lal & zaz who found the first of the crystal skulls, ensconced in strange chambers. we are ever jealous of those who walk amongst the stars now denied us, even if they flit amongst them blindly, like a swimmer in a dark ocean, who knows that the space is vast & open but knows also that things may be in it- but not where, or how many. eyeless, they & all their ilk search only for shore line to pull their bodies up upon. i hate them the way the shark must hate the seal. & now how we envy the post-human synthetic intellegences of the third planet, who have left, whale like, the metaphorical beach & turned to black waters. oh how we sharks hate them all.
  • Current Mood
    the riddle of gunfire.