Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Yesterday is better. I get out of work early and buy a box of red strawberries and eat them all. Random fact: I am physically unable to stop eating fresh strawberries if they are in front of me.

I talk to my brother and Val. John thinks my new life plan of never having another crush, of never falling in love with anyone again and just fucking attractive people and not calling them might sound fun at first, but will probably be ultimately unsatisfying. I guess he knows a lot about physics and the laws of motion and time and stuff, but I've worked hard for my right as a bitter single person to proclaim, "That's easy for you to say with your wife and your house with a fence around the yard for the doggies."

In my headphones, Journey sings "Don't stop believin'," but my iPod seems to have entered a state of suspended animation. My computer is being a special child, and last night the veins standing out on my neck in my hot, silent apartment as I all want to do is write and the bitch is taking an hour and a half to open a goddamn document. When all is nearly lost Lisa Roth calls and collects me to take me to the bar. Girl's night (read: dyke night) at this swank place downtown where a Jack is eight bucks plus tip and they don't play Shakira loud enough for us to properly shake our asses. The gayity [sic] reminds me of Bloomington, and I remember how much I enjoy dancing around anyone but straight men.

The days keep turning into night. I'm surprised by how many new poems I have. I still have this novel I don't know what to do with, but after the night the sun keeps rising.

My friend Caleb took this out the window of a plane. All I'm saying is sometimes things are outstandingly beautiful.



Lisa Reade said...

Hey, one more way in which we're the same person! Once I open a box of fresh strawberries, I devour every last one, even nibbling around the stems trying unsuccessfully to avoid eating the leaves. Strawberries are beautiful.

Chad Parenteau said...

You have to get Caleb to send some more work to me.

deixis said...

that picture pretty much exactly matches one of my very first memories, in which i am two and a half and flying over the pacific in a 747, unaccompanied by immediate family members (or any family members), and i am poking the nice lady sitting next to me in the ribs and saying, in korean, at the top of my two and a half year old lungs, HOLYSHITTHOSEARECLOUDSTHEY LOOKLIKESHEEP!

fun times, fun times.

Lisa Reade said...