with a capital R
��������� �����haircut. the incredible odor of gel and hair-dryer air. women in black smocks and the TV in the background on oprah. it smacks of "steel magnolias," i'm thinking to myself. but she does a good job, and i'm happy for their service. it was snowing when i left, and the trek back was mostly jogged. itches like hell though.there must be less than ten weeks left until the end of school. the feeling is that i'm going home again. maybe working at catering all summer long, making money. which wouldn't be so bad, honestly, but at the same time do i want to be living that lifestyle again? i'm semi-homesick, but mostly for the storms ... i'm visiting los angeles this summer, that's set in stone, for some time. god i wish the country would unfold under the wheels of my car. crazy ribbons of asphalt. oh america you are so Romantic in your haphazard way, stretched out like a whore across the land. inviting the dark black sky to lower itself down to you and murmur in your ear.
which would be the waves of the pacific lapping in the bay by san francisco, the tongue on your lobe, America - i have been as of late been reinventing myself just for you, america, for you and your millions of people, for myself too, and the millions within me ... have you? president bush would paint you in bright orange, and red, radioactive success pulsing even from space. until america is a star on the face of planet earth ...
my geographical invective with exclamation marks. jason is coughing and i can feel it through my feet at the wall. illness runs rampant - even in the form of odd-seasoned snow today, where the temperature should go up to nearly sixty tomorrow and the day after that ...
i am yearning for something, like the last clinging drip of water on a faucet's lip. a tremblingly erotic tear hanging on for dear life, but sliding down that eyelash .. plunging off into wild abandon - ah, shit. so Romantical i am tonight.
no matter. it's good to "go for baroque" as they say in france sometimes. and i feel so victorian tonight. perhaps it was seeing "cabaret" that did it for me. all dressed up in a dark charcoal suit and a red tie, formal and sharp through the halls of the theatre - i admit power rushes through my head, albeit imaginary.
and now in blacks and comfort, i curl into the spiderweb of my bed. and cocoon in sleep.