(no subject)
III.
The days grow shorter and darker, and you feel more and more dissonance with reality. Slowly, through a diet of doughy Sicilian pizzas and ramen noodles, you’ve regained a semblance of body mass and strength.
At the coffee shop you frequent, you make friends with a mentalist named Scorpio, who has a penchant for bending spoons with an old housekey lashed to a rubberband around his wrist. He wears a miasma of CK1, and if it weren’t for the haze of cigarette smoke in the coffee shop, you might have gagged and vomited on the hardwood. He recently broke up with his girlfriend, under duress of similar, though less egregious circumstances, and you and him; you strike an odd friendship.
“I can make a voodoo doll,” he says through a chuff of his Marlboro Light.
You nod in a sort of hesitant smugness. Nothing, at this point, is much to believe in. There has to be an answer out there somewhere, you think.
You begin dating again, recalibrating your compass, attempting to reconcile a bastion of trust traumatically ruptured by Diane and the baggage. You feel immature and out of step.
You begin dating a lesbian named Jody, though; you don’t realize that she’s a lesbian. And she doesn’t know you are dating.
William Comparetto
© 2008