2003: the last half
well, i've kind of tried to find a place in this tired city with its weary
face. i found a job, i hate my job. mostly, it's me in jp with
d & p. mo and the boys bring me joys. and the milwaukee kids
bring bling to the house. t-suxe has introduced me to lovely druggies
and another broody bu girl with a soft spot for TIMELESS WORKS OF GREAT LITERATURE. i've
read for the first time bukowski, villette, and mallarmé. i
have houseplants i consider friends.
my bones make me suffer. my ribs float in my chest, and i fire and
ice my body every day. it wears me out. illness doesn't edge
your acts with a black sharpie, it just grinds my happy sporadic piscean well moments into a clock ticking between hurt and hurt.
i had a crush on a girl with lamby brown hair. she was nice, and we
were friends. if only she had -- but it's all good(bye).
i haven't written a damn thing, haven't painted a damn thing, haven't thought
a damn thing. my hometown does not fire me up. i sleep here.
a lot. i dream a dry sauna and speaking spanish in the arizona
desert. i dream the pacific in mexico. i dream san francisco.
i dream st pete. i dream all the houses i have known have hidden
garrets and hidden rooms. i plot my escape to a kinder gentler state. i dream of a day when i don't ask "TOSSED, POTATO SALAD, OR CHIPS?"
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