On why everyone should have friends
It’s amazing how a brief chat with a girlfriend can take the pressure off of what would have otherwise been a needlessly sucky day week… Holy shit did I need that. Thanks, babe.
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On a star and a friend
Having completely run out of reasons to be prickly, I gave him a hug and addressed him as “superstar” before leaving the club. “Call me next time you want a cupcake,” I said. He won’t, but that’s okay.
...read more here#MusicMonday: You Love Me
You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me
You school me, give me some things to think about
Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me…
On a girlfriend
“What did you want with her anyway?” he asked.
“I wanted to say hello, and I wanted to give her one of my old books. Can I give it to you to give to her?”
“No. I want you to pretend she doesn’t exist.”
Did I mention that he’s a Leo?
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On a mistress
I wish no ill on the poor sweet girl. I don’t even really wish them to break up per se, but I wish she’d know her place and step off my husband’s reincarnation. I am not the mistress; she is. I’ll swear to the jury that he was mine first. I’ll stick to my story…
...read more hereOn visiting demons
I don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like a ghost moving through live bodies, weaving in and out of the workings of a world to which I absolutely do not belong. I want to see him put his arms around her. I want them to act as though I do not exist. But then, if I do not exist, why am I here?
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On some other woman’s name
I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. It doesn’t make sense, what I’m saying. I don’t even want him to leave her. I just want him to pretend that I’m her and call me by her name…
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On voodoo soup
All day I’ve been craving a bowl of the trumpeter’s girlfriend’s miracle soup, which had just some weeks ago fully cured me of a mild OD. I’m serious. I woke up that morning feeling like something lodged in my stomach walls was trying to climb out of my body and by her soup, I was made whole… Instead, I made some for myself today. Unfortunately, my soup is just soup. No special voodoo involved.
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On the OD — pt 3 (the phone call)
I don’t know what made me call him back, but I did, just about five minutes after I hung up the phone. I took the cordless and went upstairs to my room, pulled my robe a bit tighter around my body and hit the redial button. He answered with a raspy voice and on the first ring. There was a metronome beeping rhythmically in the background. I had disturbed his practicing. I told him I had a question for him, and that he was free not to answer if he so chose, but I requested that if he chose to answer the question, that he would answer honestly…
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On the OD — pt 2 (the third)
I stretched myself out with my feet by the headboard feeling like my body was leaden and my head was helium-filled. I wondered if this was the other side of suicide. I wondered if I was already dead. I did not think about bleeding. I knew somehow that if I thought about it, it would happen..
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