I don’t have to do anything: this notion of not having to be anywhere, clean anything, talk to anyone, buy something or watch any show. I’m bored enough to think about doing myself. But I never get it right. No one else does either. And you should never do yourself, or anyone else for that matter, if you’re bored.

I hate the smell of other people’s houses. Even the houses that smell good. I only like the smell of my own. But I don’t have one.
And now that I think about, I do recall, vaguely, the smell of a house that was more to my liking. It was my first boyfriend’s house. He was renting, actually. Like I said, I can’t tell you what the places smelled like but it will always reminded me of sex. Because it was where I lost my virginity.
It smelled of wood, if I had to venture a guess. Sour wood. Yes, sour.

We are in this together but not really but let’s just say that because I have a bit of a headache but should feel better when I take a nap. Which I’m not saying to you right now, only to myself, but even that is suspect since now it seems others are dictating thoughts and actions and it’s a little crazy right now (and this ‘now’ is lilted with a question mark, in order to sound friendly–but to who, I have no idea)

Take care, everyone!

Smackblue, Canada is what they called this tiny little town and in my tiny little room I felt the coldness of the snow and thought of the daffodils in Central Park and thought of you-know-who. But of course you wouldn’t know who he was. 

I looked out my tiny jealousy windows, wearing my endeavored Ray-bans. I looked around my tiny room only to realize the one thing I didn’t have here was coffee.

Elbows met elbows; I thought twice about starting an extra-marital affair.

Something went wrong with the cake. I followed the directions exactly–except for one thing–Ah! That’s it: While the cake was baking, I answered a call from my brother. He likes to complain about his girlfriends. I may have let the cake bake too long because he wanted his latest girlfriend to have an abortion.
I threw the cake away and started over. This time, when the phone rang. I didn’t answer it.

1. Rapination and Kym Mazelle – Love Me The Right Way
2. Bryan Justin Crum – Show Me Love
3. The Spinners – The Rubberband Man
4. George Benson – Give Me the Night
5. Kenny Loggins – Heart to Heart
6. School of Fish – Three Strange Days
7. Hot Chocolate – Everyone’s a Winner

…touch it, you will feel so much better. No! admonishes someone–lots of people–well-meaning people, friends, relatives, God–but it’s there like some cloud or something more solid, like a button that you have to press, you just have to.

1. Doubt myself and then dupe myself until I forget the doubt.
2. Use a song that lifts my spirits or makes me cry. Both are effective at getting me where I want to go, which is someplace far enough that I get a bird’s eye view of things–and close enough that I feel tethered to others. Such a delicate balance
3. Letting a shadow pass over my arm and feeling its coolness.
4. Pretend I’m friends with someone that I’m not friends with. In essence, Frannie      and I, childhood classmates, became good friends just because I dreamed that we were. She didn’t like all through school. She told me I was ugly and told me “You’ve got to move,” when sat next to her. That’s good enough for me.