I am mostly happy, truly.
This month is just…
a gutache,
less sleep,
weary,
fast-blood,
throat-blocked,
sad.
It’s late at night, and I think of the past year, and everything wrong and awful.
And I just want to get lost in a hug for about 3 days.

I may or may not have found a McGruff the Crime Dog head to wear.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present you with my new roommate.
Lovely engagement photos by Stephanie Williams for Next Exit
LOVE
<3
Adore, even.
Dear Christopher,
This song was playing when you called just now to tell me you were leaving Florida.
I thought you might appreciate this coincidence.
Can’t wait to see you!
Can’t wait til you build your fort in my apartment!
Here’s to sleeping bags, feeding ducks, my tiny televisions, and of course, Ryan Adams.
I expect living with you to be swell.
:]
Music
Memoir
Fiction
Short Fiction
Poetry
Writing
***Indicates a book I’ve previously partially read and never finished.
Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley
“P: Thank you for her,” Jeff in the liner notes of Grace, to Peter, the father of one of Jeff’s girlfriends, Rebecca Moore, whom this song was about. By the time Grace was released, the two had split.
This song is one of the most achingly beautiful to exist, and that dedication is one of the most achingly beautiful I’ve ever read. But then, that’s Jeff Buckley, isn’t it?
I’ve heard a lot lately about the young man who died in Norman this month in a train incident. People keep asking if I knew him since I live in Norman and apparently he and I share many mutual aquaintances. People then proceed to tell me every painful detail even though (or maybe simply because) I did not know this kid. Still, it absolutely breaks my heart. I somehow came across a few tumblrs of some of his good friends tonight, and I can’t help but cry when I read their posts.
It’s been almost one year since Carlos. I think about him every day. I took off the bracelets thinking that removing the constant reminder would help, but I only end up looking at my bare wrists and feeling all the same.
If I could do anything for these kids, I would sit outside with them and let them talk, laugh, cry, smoke about 50 consecutive cigarettes. I would let them browse photos, drive aimlessly, stay up all night, break showers, spend a day riding shitty rides at Frontier City, talk shit like Dane Cook because “You don’t know!!! You don’t even fucking know!!”, make a summer to-do list with their unfortunately reunited friends. I would answer every phone call before the third ring and be there at any time.
I could say that yeah, I know. And I know it really fucking sucks. And yes, everything from this point on will be different, and no, it doesn’t go ever go away nor does the reality fully settle in.
But I would not ask inappropriate questions and I would not look at them strangely. And I will definitely send some positive vibes their way.