weekenders in their late 20s with strollers and all the time in the world, apparently.  i hate tourist and shiny maps and did i mention strollers?  i hate baby boomers and old money, i hate new money and i hate stupid questions. i hate people talking about how cold it is when it’s 50 degrees outside.  i hate bathroom lines and the fact that 20 women will stand in line when the mens room is empty.  i hate old ignorant men and old ignorant women, i hate dykes in their 40’s and their work boots and eyebrow piercings.  i hate the way polished indignant gay men say the word (skinny) latte. maybe i should stop working at starbucks.

i love pizza.

1:46 pm  •  5 December 2009

sandwashed sidewalk, kitchy lawn furniture, white towels and chocolate milk.  i’m closer to these things now than the man who owns them.  i push his graying blonde hair off his pretty face and kiss his sweaty forehead.  this is for the times when i was little and he would reach down, push the hair off of my face and kissed my sweaty forehead.  pills, workout equipment, and viagra, we lost him to vanity, money and women. 

i reach down and scoop some over cooked noodles off of a plastic plate and put them in his mouth.  he looks away and says he wants to die, we cry and beg and tell him he has too much to live for but the truth is he died years ago.

8:12 pm  •  18 November 2009

walk home from work

10:32 pm  •  14 November 2009

I’m sitting at Spin City and it’s like the Target of laundro mats.  There are palm trees outside and an arcade to my left, my roommate is sitting on a machine spacing out and I found the only seat with half shade.  I want to avoid the sun, one month into my time in Savannah and already I’m avoiding one of the main reasons that brought me here.  I think of him, in the city I just “escaped” from, the city I miss.  How is it that my best friend is always living in the city I miss and I’m always somewhere else wishing I was somewhere else?  I don’t wish I was somewhere else, not really.  There is sweat dripping down my forehead and I remember times doing laundry with him, his big change jar and stacks of ones on his desk, books everywhere and his blue blanket, red and white sheets.  All of our laundry in the back of his truck and the only air conditioned vehicle I knew for years.  My car probably broken down on the street that he lived on, we
lived in the same city.  He was alive, brimming full of energy and vibrancy and green tea, pushing his beautiful hair off of his beautiful face to pick up our baskets and he was happy, I wasn’t but he was, maybe he wasn’t.  But we were both living then, not running, not hiding, not counting minutes and hours and days like death was around the corner.  Not counting every happy moment and weighing it against every sad one like it’s some kind of battle, because happy moments were easy.  This was before he ever bought rogaine and I ever took xanax and we piled dirty clothes into machines and waited with magazines and cigarettes and pitas from Gina’s.  Tumble dried before tumblarity.  Done and clean and folded like our neat little messy lives.

3:52 pm  •  10 November 2009

why would you wanna break up?

5:36 pm  •  5 November 2009

my computer is broken, literally, i think it was the ghost that lives in my house and it’s not charming and it’s not ok.  the screen fills up with static like the stereotypical nothingness of an old tv screen, the fucking national anthem might as well come on at midnight.  i have a 4 gig data stick thing that holds 43 (not 46 i lost 3 pages) pages of writing that began as the only reason i wanted to wake up in the morning and grew to become the only reason it was ok to go home at night.  37th street and that upstairs room, it felt like home it did.  now i have this black stick and a ghost and my optimistic attitude that someday i will know what the fuck i’m doing.

2:31 pm  •  30 October 2009

bein sexy in the back seat of a car tekkin piktures of muhself on muh camera/video phone. 

7:15 pm  •  29 October 2009

“sweet potatoes (the restaurant)” parts 1 and 2 respectively

7:13 pm  •  29 October 2009

i’m sitting outside and it’s sunny and it could be any season anywhere, i guess it would feel like summer a lot of places.  i have an hour left of work and i’m eating a veggie hummus sandwich a tiny bag of chips and a pumpkin cookie.  some artsy scad boy is playing songs on his guitar and i’m thinking about how i like living in a city where people play music for other people in the morning outside of starbucks.

also the pumpkin cookie is good.

(all food items mention can be purchased at panera)

11:03 am  •  29 October 2009

kim says i look like her.

3:30 pm  •  27 October 2009