i bat the glass of cranberry juice & vodka out of lindsey's hand while we're dancing. driving with isaac reminds me of early high school; being in the car with james trigilio or ben roesch & not giving a fuck if the car crashes headlong into the next semi we see or arrives unmolested at our destination. so the glass does its crash, fall, smash thing. nothing we're not all used to by now. we keep dancing, glass beneath shoes. i'm fascinated by stories of boys who don't want girls. the way i used to be; un-fucking-touchable by gender concerns. & now i'm a shark on a hook. & jenny is feeding me canisters of compressed air. its getting easy to ignore things again. i'm trying to keep out of the quagmire of desolate sabotauge, but it is hard in the early part of the year, my suicide season. metaphorically speaking of course. & speaking of metaphors, i desperately want jeff noon's drugs. at the bar, isaac's hands are bloody from breaking more glasses. goodbye goodbye goodbye. i sneer at miracles- i'm your enemy. when i meet people i begin thinking of how best to hurt them, in a lasting fashion. last night i argued with a girl about housing for the homeless. not really sure what words were coming out of me, dropping like kurt's mouthfull of marbles.
did i ever tell you that i'm impressed with your email name. forsight, sister. i can't stop listening to the magnetic fields. did i ever did i ever. did i ever tell you that they took my hotmail account from me? i wonder if you remember who that was. i was writing to say hi, not to leave these desperate comments in the margins. so hi. so so so. sososo s.o.s.