Melodramaunimbus

It's funny, this morning I was listening to oldie but goodie "Like Dylan in the Movies" and I heard the lines

if we all went back to another time / I would love you over / I would love you over / I would love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

and just started crying [ed. note: crying for me is eye-stings and maybe some wetness] right there in the bus seat before the unfinished public library. Here's why: I didn't get to bed until quite late last night, and it had started snowing. In the morning, the guy a couple houses down started shoveling his walk at six am with military precision; the scraping woke me, and the downstairs neighbor's alarm kept me from getting back to sleep. Last night Marc and I went to McDonald's down the street. As he sat down next to me he said, "It feels like we're on a road trip" and I said, "If only we were...then this would be acceptable." I love it that he's a one minute walk from my front door. On Sunday at the Band Box a cute boy smoking Lucky Strikes in a teal sportcoat and tight black girlie dance-pants made me feel happy. I fear that my memory is going. I may also have apnea, and my Raynod's disease is worse this year than last. I can't remember what I did on Friday. On Thursday Brian and I drank at the King and I. Several days ago we watched the Bruce LaBruce film Raspberry Reich. It turned us on and we did it. I fear my sister may be on the verge of being Born Again. My mom says "hell no" but she voted for Bush because "abortion is murder." Duluth was sad and made me angry, and I didn't release that anger. When I did, my hands were squeezing my skull. I worry about being up there for Christmas. This kid friendstered me. He's twenty and went to my highschool. I graduated with his older sister. He was a little scrawny sugared up ten year old. He's gay now and I heard that he was treated horribly at my old highschool. I've been drinking too much, and I've been having too many cigarettes while drinking. Editors I want to write me back never do. It's hard to stay awake in this weather. A fried of mine is unhappy and unwell. His leg is crippled and he has to poop in a bedpan. I want to go to Buenos Aires.

Posted by jason at December 6, 2024 11:03 AM