Like a greyhound ride. I started Wednesday morning (9 AM) putzing around on the computer. That is not interesting. I went to the mountain with Adam. We ate…italian and had a weird time. Not drunk, just kind of stoned. My edge wearing dull. Looking at the waitresses and waiters (6 PM). I don’t remember other then the sunset. We got up there around 4. I was wearing a down jacket that made me feel like a combination of the michelin man and the staypuff marsh-mellow man. My legs were blocks of ice on top of tense muscle. But the sky was full of colors that only your eye can see. I’m sure Adam took pictures, but the human eye is raped by intense color changes. My ears started to hurt because of the wind. And I thought of places that I have been. the top of the mountain. Frozen in ice and wondered what the natives thought. You have to land to get what it’s about. The mysteries of space and the ocean.
Went back to my apartment and commenced to putz again. Not really wanting to think about leaving or do anything about it. It’s not as if I wasn’t excited. it was just that i was feeling something in my stomach at the bottom. Jen came over. Her skin looked nice like she was taking care of herself again. I am sure that I didn’t look very nice. self abuse is a deal breaker. The phone call came before that. It wasn’t something i expected. I was going to go to bed and decided an all nighter was better. I threw all of my clothing into a plastic bag and then directly into my suit case. It’s not hard to pack when you have so little to bring.
Jen and I watched some television. I’m sure I tried to finish Wendy’s pot. What a nice gift. I also received a picture of us. I like the way that woman thinks. The phone rang again. I felt uncomfortable. It wells up. The drunken voice at the other end. The mysterious number it came from. The familiar guffaw. Oh the gift of cellular. We are tied to the device and it make me want to. break it. Burts is a busy place and I heard wyatt in the backround. He sounded like a lumber jack yelling at fallen years. So we went. I got there at (10 PM). I went straight to the back and didn’t even look around. There was a very sick girl in the bathroom that i fetched water for. on my way back out i heard my name through the smoke. It was the lumberjack. Hello sir and ladies. Oh look he’s sitting across from me at the booth. Excuse me I have to take care of something. After i heard the voice. “are you going to come sit over here at some point”
“i was having a conversation” i reply.
I slid in. not going for physical contact. avoiding it completely. This is dan, this is natalie. Hello…hello. I was sitting under the velvet mariner’s stare. Come over after this beer. It was all such a blurred watercolor. paint bleeding into smoke. I am wincing. It struck me from above. I am never as alone as I think. The loud lumber peanut gallery. We are suddenly squished by the return of jen from her id excursion. Into the uncomfortable position locking me in. And then it’s finally time to go. I stared at the mariner and dave’s glass heroine eyes. Sucking in the air as if it could provide me some comfort or relief. Off we went. Leaving the rest on warm december night. It was like any walk back to 14th street. The same route is always used.
Arrived at (11 PM). He put a movie on that i couldn’t hear. Don’t be a bitch. I love you. Here all I will say is that I am even more confused than ever. I will use jim’s definition of what the best kind of kiss is because he is entirely right: The perfect kiss is: genuine, long, coming after a long absence or admiration, and one that you didn’t expect to have when you got up that morning. I was asked to stay and at (4 AM) after he had fallen into a drunk coma I decided to walk back. It’s not like i know anything that i didn’t before.
That’s not the end. But I’ll spare you the rest so that your eyes can tear away from the screen. More to come. To be Continued…
