Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Fruit or something like it

This piece will start and end in the same place -- in bed, of course, and the second time feels better so does that mean I feel better too? Whatever might feel better fades into sinus sadness and I'm thinking about how my sinuses have actually stayed relatively undestroyed on this trip I mean they get bad but then they get better, maybe actually better than at home when I always wake up with at least one nostril closed and on this tour that hasn't happened as much. Makes me want to have more control over the interior of my living space, bring in an allergy expert and redo everything that needs to be redone but that would mean a different place that maybe I would own and that's not exactly on the horizon.

But what I'm thinking about is whether I felt this sad yesterday, could I have felt this sad? Yesterday I didn't write anything so there's no way of knowing. But wait -- I didn't write anything yesterday because I felt so sad, so sad I couldn't even write. So maybe today is better, although I can't deny that today the sadness is centered in my sinuses my sinuses I'm preparing for the onslaught of a plane.

I need to take a break, so I can steam some collard greens I'm going to take a lot of breaks so that I won't end up in too much pain but I'm not always going to tell you. You know that. It's hard to take breaks when there's so much to write, when I'm tempted to give it some start-to-finish linear structure that's tempting because you think it's not giving anything away. Like now, when I want to write a post on craigslist that says we were making out last night and you went outside to wait for me but the coat check took too long I mean it took forever because it was so crowded and that's after my lips didn't feel numb anymore but I got this rush in my head and I’m still wondered if that was someone else's cocaine residue I've wondered that before but this time with the numbness and then the rush and then standing in line and I got so annoyed and drained I couldn't speak it could've been hypoglycemia but I worried it was someone else's cocaine.

That didn't give anything away, not even what I wanted to give it. I meant to say: it's easier when something ends if you don't think it's the end. That was the guy who maybe I connected with the most, but he kept biting my tongue, ouch, and I said ouch even though really it didn't hurt it just seemed like it might hurt but not the way I might want it to hurt. I mean I don't want my tongue to hurt. The other one with a fruity taste in his mouth, the boy with a white button down shirt and jeans, who wears that kind of look at a slutty bar in the East Village, really? Apparently at least three guys in a similar demographic, because when I tried to find him again there were three guys who looked just about the same -- relatively short and skinny, short light brown hair almost a crew cut, white button down shirt untucked over jeans or something like jeans and I don't even think he was one of them. Or, if he was one of them, he wasn't the one who I kissed on the neck a few times thinking it was him but this new guy ignored me. Or maybe he was the original guy, you know how original he is but I didn't taste his tongue again in search of fruit or something like it.

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