A night at Ag Lago
After a long day of customers begging me to read the backs of supplement bottles as they panic over their mortality and wonder if COQ-10 will help them live forever, and a bus ride filled with loud but undercultivated clairvoyant and clairaudient mediums, I walk through the gate to my house.
Andrew and two friends are on the porch sofas and he jumps up to show me his new milkshake tattoo. I can hear singing from the entryway.
Clay throws a glass of ice on Chris. Chris pouts and whines like a frustrated housewife. Andrew is on the porch showing me his new milkshake tattoo as his best friend lies on our sofa and the tattoo artist works on her to make them a matching pair.
Chris, Patricia and I bitch about our days and group hug while melodramatically wailing and clinging to one another in the kitchen.
Forest walks in and is dance-flipped while Clay breaks a corkscrew trying to open my bottle of wine.
We sit on the porch as Ysanne, Chris, and Forest try to decide which goddess I will be in the pantheon of the Ag Lago house. They decide on Selene the moon goddess and Chris seals it with a drink from his giant chalice of rum and something.
Jimmy is playing flamenco guitar. Carrie is laughing. Chris wants to know if I will be happy in his room and I am escaping to bed.
I am feeling sick. One half of my head is congested.
boy bruised but did not break my heart on the night of the full moon and I'm nursing it back to health, which in its original condition is a torn-up deformity anyhow. Took a long walk in the hot sun from my house to the end of Echo Park and then around the Silverlake reservoir because I like to torture (oh god I am so heat-fried and heartbruisingly dissociated that I had to think about how to spell "torture") myself.
Also my brain is no longer grey matter. It is red. At this moment it is a bright shade of pink.
The upstairs shower is clogged and overflowing. It is hot and my feet are dirty.
Clay and I took a walk to get what he says is better drano. It foams. The foamy stuff works, he says.
We discussed Courtney Love and the art of jaywalking.
I need an aura cleanse and some kombucha, pronto. But first, a good nights sleep and a trip to the shrink in the morning.
Poor wounded heart. She'll be alright. Boys don't know how to be gentle. This is why I ought to only settle for men.
Andrew and two friends are on the porch sofas and he jumps up to show me his new milkshake tattoo. I can hear singing from the entryway.
Clay throws a glass of ice on Chris. Chris pouts and whines like a frustrated housewife. Andrew is on the porch showing me his new milkshake tattoo as his best friend lies on our sofa and the tattoo artist works on her to make them a matching pair.
Chris, Patricia and I bitch about our days and group hug while melodramatically wailing and clinging to one another in the kitchen.
Forest walks in and is dance-flipped while Clay breaks a corkscrew trying to open my bottle of wine.
We sit on the porch as Ysanne, Chris, and Forest try to decide which goddess I will be in the pantheon of the Ag Lago house. They decide on Selene the moon goddess and Chris seals it with a drink from his giant chalice of rum and something.
Jimmy is playing flamenco guitar. Carrie is laughing. Chris wants to know if I will be happy in his room and I am escaping to bed.
I am feeling sick. One half of my head is congested.
boy bruised but did not break my heart on the night of the full moon and I'm nursing it back to health, which in its original condition is a torn-up deformity anyhow. Took a long walk in the hot sun from my house to the end of Echo Park and then around the Silverlake reservoir because I like to torture (oh god I am so heat-fried and heartbruisingly dissociated that I had to think about how to spell "torture") myself.
Also my brain is no longer grey matter. It is red. At this moment it is a bright shade of pink.
The upstairs shower is clogged and overflowing. It is hot and my feet are dirty.
Clay and I took a walk to get what he says is better drano. It foams. The foamy stuff works, he says.
We discussed Courtney Love and the art of jaywalking.
I need an aura cleanse and some kombucha, pronto. But first, a good nights sleep and a trip to the shrink in the morning.
Poor wounded heart. She'll be alright. Boys don't know how to be gentle. This is why I ought to only settle for men.