My name and other important shit.
Last Saturday, Mary Ellen handed off a table of three or so sexy older couples. The kind of people who still go out and still look great in their late forties, that find Radio especially attractive. Four bottles of cheap Temprenillo in, and they wanted to know my name and what I study and if I have a boyfriend and how long I've worked here and so on. The blond, pretty one with the husband trying to grow a shoddy mustache winced a red wine wince and said "you're too pretty for a Maia." I kind of like my name, actually.
My middle name is Jane, which is my grandmother's name. My grandmother whose husband died a week and a half ago. I think I cried on the phone to Jeff about it from Sara's tub Monday night, but I'm not sure. That could be a constructed memory as I only remember the smallest snatches of what happened past midnight. I was told it involved a lot of crying and puking, some dancing on my bad ankle and more rolling around. I'm sorry.
I talked to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis this morning. They are my parents according to fifty or so Korean, Kazak, and Swiss students. I like the name Lewis, too. My brother's middle name is Townsend, who was a best friend of the grandfather who died. They will be buried in the same military graveyard in D.C. My brother's first name is Jeffrey, who was my dad's closest friend; he died in a car accident that may have involved a lot of alcohol, but my dad doesn't like to talk about it. A boy I went to a high school dance with drown last year and I still haven't cried about it.
I am disappointed in everyone lately. I am both grossly self-involved and self-loathing and I wish anyone cared as much as I do about not being shitty.
My middle name is Jane, which is my grandmother's name. My grandmother whose husband died a week and a half ago. I think I cried on the phone to Jeff about it from Sara's tub Monday night, but I'm not sure. That could be a constructed memory as I only remember the smallest snatches of what happened past midnight. I was told it involved a lot of crying and puking, some dancing on my bad ankle and more rolling around. I'm sorry.
I talked to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis this morning. They are my parents according to fifty or so Korean, Kazak, and Swiss students. I like the name Lewis, too. My brother's middle name is Townsend, who was a best friend of the grandfather who died. They will be buried in the same military graveyard in D.C. My brother's first name is Jeffrey, who was my dad's closest friend; he died in a car accident that may have involved a lot of alcohol, but my dad doesn't like to talk about it. A boy I went to a high school dance with drown last year and I still haven't cried about it.
I am disappointed in everyone lately. I am both grossly self-involved and self-loathing and I wish anyone cared as much as I do about not being shitty.