he's such my husband, little hooker baby. only nobody gets fucked and when i'm drunk he reminds me that my nose needs powdering. but seriously, where would i be without tony blonde?

upon rearranging the furniture, we found old pictures of me. i sort of freaked out, and felt graceless. i need to take care of myself.

mostly i'm on autopilot. mind wanders while my dumb mouth is stuck with the burden.

valentine, i don't trust myself to do right by you.

i cry recklessly

last winter in some hotel room, you stood wrapped in a towel like a beautiful statue showing me tattoos that your closest friends hadn't seen. there was a charge in the air and it wasn't boring superficial lust. i loved you and would've done anything to make you see what i'd always known. when i taped a big black heart on the wall with your name ( Read more... )

cried walking, cried eating, cried wiping myself.

i fell asleep beneath a lifeguard station last night. the lights from the ferris wheel and pier were just enough that i managed to read both witch baby & missing angel juan. it was fairly cold and the santa ana winds were unmerciful. when the sun rose, i stretched and collected shells until my zebra print purse was full.

tonight i jumped the fence and climbed the "H"

it is unusual for me to feel like part of the universe. swimming beneath the cancer moon did just that. baptised, cassie said. let's drift to baja and unlearn everything. remember the lucky jackallope? yeah, like that.

oh last night. flew home and cabbed to jd's, where a get together ensued. it was, after all, tony's birthday and my homecoming. nothing to drink for me, thanks. we played truth or dare, which naturally evolved into spin the bottle, which casually led to "two minutes in the closet". strawberry thinks i makeout with her because she's beautiful. ( Read more... )