[[you and i are in for the long haul.]]
dearest faceeater,
this is monday, my eighteenth birthday was two days ago. i turned eighteen, so everything worked out okay. nicholas chatfield-taylor drove me to boston on friday and i reveled in danceyness and the drink and the arms of the boy i love. (all those lofts and in the morning the man in lee's bed had left and so we jumped in. something about the cloud club is like mdma for me.) some delicious diner at breakfest, and i stole the steak sauce. on the way home, jack threw my nalgene out the van and tried to kill me when i bit him too hard on the ear. then he almost died and turned three shades of allergic. the boy was sweet and kind of crazy and bought me food. new york was good, because it is where i want to be all the time. and the night was comfortable and pleasurable and communicable. and happy birthday to me. and i got some of the best presents i've ever gotten including but not limited it, endless postcards from people i hardly know, a beautiful handmade skirt, lollipops, necklaces, chince, a wonder-woman pop up book, the best comic ever, the best card ever, a candycorn non-necklace wall adornment, a ukulele, endless love, lemon juice, a black t-shirt, a comic about a stegosaurus and ralphie, and hope on a rope. sunday morning walking down st.marks might have been the best and most i've ever been. or maybe it was the wine. nikki karam drove me home and i slept almost the whole way, even now a days when she tries hard she is still too good. and YOU KNOW, thank you, for saying happy birthday or for loving me or for driving me long distances or for sending me something or for calling me. because really, you made my day.
yours and his and mine,
emilyn.
this is monday, my eighteenth birthday was two days ago. i turned eighteen, so everything worked out okay. nicholas chatfield-taylor drove me to boston on friday and i reveled in danceyness and the drink and the arms of the boy i love. (all those lofts and in the morning the man in lee's bed had left and so we jumped in. something about the cloud club is like mdma for me.) some delicious diner at breakfest, and i stole the steak sauce. on the way home, jack threw my nalgene out the van and tried to kill me when i bit him too hard on the ear. then he almost died and turned three shades of allergic. the boy was sweet and kind of crazy and bought me food. new york was good, because it is where i want to be all the time. and the night was comfortable and pleasurable and communicable. and happy birthday to me. and i got some of the best presents i've ever gotten including but not limited it, endless postcards from people i hardly know, a beautiful handmade skirt, lollipops, necklaces, chince, a wonder-woman pop up book, the best comic ever, the best card ever, a candycorn non-necklace wall adornment, a ukulele, endless love, lemon juice, a black t-shirt, a comic about a stegosaurus and ralphie, and hope on a rope. sunday morning walking down st.marks might have been the best and most i've ever been. or maybe it was the wine. nikki karam drove me home and i slept almost the whole way, even now a days when she tries hard she is still too good. and YOU KNOW, thank you, for saying happy birthday or for loving me or for driving me long distances or for sending me something or for calling me. because really, you made my day.
yours and his and mine,
emilyn.