cherrybomb

somewhere near midnight.

been waking up with random scenes from movies and random images in my head – something’s brewing, which is good, i haven’t opened a word document in like 2 weeks. stagnant stagnant brain water – hoping all this weird shit (weird as in different from my very very well-placed patterns routines) will serve as sort of an ass bump to the turn table – bump the turntable, spill a little ditch liquor, skitter the needle to a different song…

it will save me. too many restful nights are a sign of either dead exhaustion (good) or few brainwaves. i need to WRITE.  woke up sweaty tuesday thinking about ferris bueller’s sister and charlie sheen making out at the police station – wednesday was jon cusack and lisa bonet morning after talk in high fidelity – then just random thoughts of michael caine – waking up thinking about cider house rules, alfie, jaws 4, i don’t get it.. and shoes, lots of shoes. what sort of shoes does my sister wear do work, i wonder. and  the shoes you keep in your car – the after work shoes, thinking of k—- getting off work at 9:15 and meeting her in my paleface foundation, ghost of me with halfway make-up, to paint up at her house drinking rum and hawaiian punch, hitting the gay clubs in columbus, wearing my prom jewelry in my hair, making out on the sticky bathroom floor – nailpolish and eyeliner fake tattoos, taiwanese girls that danced even though they were getting married – i still want to dance, i still want to dance – car full of shoes…. the person i was the last time i walked in the double doors through the shoe department and punched a clock to smile at old women and know that one swipe more with any brush would ruin the 45 minute perfection of my 22 yr old face. heels and stockings. i’m walking into the past but seven years and more have passed so i’m a whole new person now, and god bitchslapped me for tan-guilt and checking my crow’s feet by giving me a cold sore. tomorrow i’ll paint to within an inch of kabuki and hope they buy the lipstick that hid the jitters.

brewing, something’s brewing. there are conversations to be had. this week has been off-kilter. amy and andrea in the same week. julie did NOT get stomped but almost. adam has learned to lie. eric in the p–s again, home with a headache and i bite my fingernails short but it’s none of my business…. at least not to say STOP….

black patent leather peep toe slingbacks with a stiletto heel and a velvet underside. the only black shirt i own without a picture on it is laced with silver, i don’t have a uniform. i wear tanktops and sundresses and am hardpressed to find a bra, my hair barettes have monkeys and hippoppotami on them…. tomorrow, tomorrow….. nothing like blowing a part-time job at a make-up counter all out of proportion with purple prose and hope for fiction fodder.

lon, amy & girls over mid-week, coffee in the kitchen, humidity horses. register training. andrea here to ‘meet’ in person, all over again for the first time, i saw her every day for years and we never spoke -she can stay, she can stay, i’m keeping her but not in the scary trunk way, in the front of my brain way. she had light purple toenails, very opaque, no glisten. amy and steve today, and mexican food, and the horses had baths and we were lost 5 miles away – the church down the road has a faded tin roof the exact color of the sky, but i got it at all the wrong angles. i leave out the sex, i’m shy, it’s private, we pull the curtains, this is me pulling the curtain…. johnny fox messaged me through facebook to thank me for a post. damn i love johnny fox. same night as the meteor shower – that night was ours, eric’s and mine, even more than last night with adam at my mom’s, but last night i took pictures of the stars.

i like the sound of the keys. something is brewing, bridget is waking up – maybe i am waking up. i should have known she would leave – or maybe this has nothing to do with her.

maybe this has nothing to do with anything but shoes, and making out.

that’s cool, too.

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