The breakup. I've been trying to come up with the most elegant ways to describe it, but it doesn't really come out right. It always ends up feeling a couple levels too overdramatic or nonchalant or bitter or bemused. It never really captures the complexity of the situation, how nice it felt, how sweet and tender and reasonable and logical it was, ( Read more... )

Six years, man.

My LJ turned six years old last week. I think six years of doing something-- anything, even something as ridiculously self-aggrandizing as the bitch&wine blogging I'm known for-- with some regularity is worth at least mentioning. Maybe it's because I recognize one of my biggest weaknesses is my penchant for abandoning projects ( Read more... )

I've missed her for a little under three weeks now and I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. I keep opening doors expecting to see her there. My texting has gone up like crazy. I keep writing the first few lines of a letter and backspacing. I am lowkey and taciturn. I am sulking codependent.

And I keep listening to this song

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Man.

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Stumbling out of Flor's house the day after her going away party, the chilly air of the autumn Buenos Aires morning comes on like a shot of hard liquor. The small nagging regrets from the night before have been just about subdued and nearly disassembled by the overall hopefulness and happiness I'm feeling. Still drunk and lethargic, I put on my ( Read more... )

I stumbled out of the fragrant and elegant and loud and obnoxious wedding reception into the pools of bushy darkness that the Saint George school campus had become, calm and quiet and black. Out the ostentatious and exuberant gin-and-cigarettes crowd, away from the yelling over the loud music and awkward attempts at dancing and that goddamn open ( Read more... )

I'm always tempted to start off these entries by commenting on how crazy fast time has gone. But the fact that we're already in March speaks for itself ( Read more... )

Four-armed monster with
four glittering eyes and
two pink mouths and
eight amorous limbs
wrapped around itself
taking up two seats in the subway


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I think so.

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The way we danced was not a dance ( Read more... )

Goddamn it October. Just when I resolve to hate you and curse you and blame my misfortunes on "the month", you turn around and throw me a curveball or three ( Read more... )