(no subject)
they gotta hot dog stand set up in downtown augusta. downtown a-town, like me and sam call it. it's that time a year. they have em advertised on the sign out front as "hawt DAWGS" in either regular or chili. you can smell em from a mile away.
i had a dream (purely non-sexual) about hot dogs last night, and woke up this morning cravin one with allllll the fuckin fixings.
matt was already up when i woke up. he'd been up for hours. he was pacing back and forth and wringing his hands and lookin about as bad as i've seen him. and i've seen him in pretty bad shape during the past few weeks. that worried crease where his eyebrows meet has probably gotten 10 times deeper since he's started to get real bad. i hugged him so tight. so tight and i could feel the tension, the fucking fear, running through him.
outta all the deadly diseases and shit out there, i think mental illness takes the motherfucking cake when it comes to pain.
i held his hand the whole time we were drivin to the psychiatric department of the hospital, one hand on the steering wheel. he almost changed his mind a million times. went in with him & stayed til they kicked my sorry ass outta there. he handed me his cell phone, his smokes, and his sweatshirt, and i started cryin. or tryin not to, anyway. (i fucking hate crying. i don't fuckin do it.) by the time we were done squeezin and kissin each other goodbye we both had wet faces and bloodshot eyes.
i scribbled down the visiting hours on a business card (i'm gonna be workin during most of em) with blurry eyes and got the hell out of there like they wanted me to. even in hospitals, people look at you funny when you're walkin down the hall with teary eyes and wet cheeks.
outside i lit a smoke and sat on the hospital steps. thought about matt being stuck there for however long it takes for him to come out stable, about both of us sleepin alone, him in a fucking hospital bed with fluorescent lights and machines and the smell of sick. thought about his brother and the apartment and shit, too. but mostly bout how i wish there was SOME fucking way i could fix his brain, whatever fucked up wiring there is in there, and make him better.
i stopped by sam and sarah's when i left the hospital, and we walked downtown, where i got my first hot dog of the summer. made some sorta hawt-diggety-dawg joke to the vendor, and loaded it with onions and relish and ketchup and mustard and even fucking HOT SAUCE. walked down by the kennebec to eat, sun burnin my puffed up bloodshot eyes, and i swear that thing tasted like a fuckin piece of heaven.
i had a dream (purely non-sexual) about hot dogs last night, and woke up this morning cravin one with allllll the fuckin fixings.
matt was already up when i woke up. he'd been up for hours. he was pacing back and forth and wringing his hands and lookin about as bad as i've seen him. and i've seen him in pretty bad shape during the past few weeks. that worried crease where his eyebrows meet has probably gotten 10 times deeper since he's started to get real bad. i hugged him so tight. so tight and i could feel the tension, the fucking fear, running through him.
outta all the deadly diseases and shit out there, i think mental illness takes the motherfucking cake when it comes to pain.
i held his hand the whole time we were drivin to the psychiatric department of the hospital, one hand on the steering wheel. he almost changed his mind a million times. went in with him & stayed til they kicked my sorry ass outta there. he handed me his cell phone, his smokes, and his sweatshirt, and i started cryin. or tryin not to, anyway. (i fucking hate crying. i don't fuckin do it.) by the time we were done squeezin and kissin each other goodbye we both had wet faces and bloodshot eyes.
i scribbled down the visiting hours on a business card (i'm gonna be workin during most of em) with blurry eyes and got the hell out of there like they wanted me to. even in hospitals, people look at you funny when you're walkin down the hall with teary eyes and wet cheeks.
outside i lit a smoke and sat on the hospital steps. thought about matt being stuck there for however long it takes for him to come out stable, about both of us sleepin alone, him in a fucking hospital bed with fluorescent lights and machines and the smell of sick. thought about his brother and the apartment and shit, too. but mostly bout how i wish there was SOME fucking way i could fix his brain, whatever fucked up wiring there is in there, and make him better.
i stopped by sam and sarah's when i left the hospital, and we walked downtown, where i got my first hot dog of the summer. made some sorta hawt-diggety-dawg joke to the vendor, and loaded it with onions and relish and ketchup and mustard and even fucking HOT SAUCE. walked down by the kennebec to eat, sun burnin my puffed up bloodshot eyes, and i swear that thing tasted like a fuckin piece of heaven.