(no subject)
She is of Italian descent but named after a state that fought for the confederacy, requiring that I roll my eyes. I asked her which is the greater sin-to support slavery or fascism, but she didn’t think the conversation was appropriate or relevant. I agreed that it was an irrelevant question but I demanded that she email me her response within 24 hours. Why? Because I want you to think of me before another lunar cycle. Then I told her about how after excavating the grounds of Shakespeare’s childhood home they discovered a ring worn by the players of the Rose Theatre which read, “Think of me,” in archaic French. So then I just waited for her to be floored; instead, she said, so I could wait 29.5 days before emailing you? Technically. Then I changed the topic to a reality show about models in Miami, and she said that she was aware of the show and used to live 3 blocks from where it is filmed. I thought you might be a model. Then she just rolled her eyes.
** **
We should have spoken on the elevator by now about anything-even sports though I
despise the topic-but instead I studied the cross pattern of gray carpet beneath my feet. A pen was dropped between us, a fantastically large red one, which at first made me think: oh no, a severed finger has just fallen off one of our hands or from the ceiling from all the tension built up. It was just a pen, however, and the descent was over.
** **
Whereas email has ruined my ability to spell correctly, T9 text messaging has sharpened my skills:
tomorrow - decision - rhythm
will never again see: tommorrow - descision - or ryhtm
In fact, the phrase, tomorrow’s decision for rhythm will land like a bald eagle on the sands of Iraq:
confidently - firmly - righteously
** **
I do not design interiors for cabins in the woods, but even I realize that a chandelier made of antlers is a brilliant invention. And while I’m completely against almost any anti-corporate campaign, I wouldn’t mind seeing Caribou Coffee spear Starbucks with a set of horns. They may have fair trade coffee, but I prefer traffickers of creative lighting.
** **
You may order a Sapporo while you are out eating sushi composing this crap, but did you know that they come in 1pt. 6 oz. sizes? That is however many ounces are in a pint plus 6. If you order 2 Sapporos, that’s however many ounces are in 2 pints, plus 12 oz. which is the regular size of beer.
** **
There are 34 tea lights on the 34 tables in this restaurant. Only 6 of these tables are occupied. If I was suspended from ropes-bare chested-18 inches from the remaining 28 lights arranged on the same table, my skin may darken with exposure to heat and soot (the technical name is particulate matter). If I turned my head to the mint green ceiling and yelled, “Not one more!,” I would be making a statement about landmines, or lobsters, or lichens (in this sense I mean werewolves). 5 of the 6 tables in this DC haunt would applaud no matter what cause I was supporting. The left over table would say, this is why I hate living on the east coast: because of all the activism, but they would just go along to get along. Most people would come over to my suspended body to pat me on the back. I’d kinda smile, hoping the sweat falling off my nipples was not putting out the flames. But mostly, I’d be thinking, “how do you buy coke when no one you know does it?
** **
The second night I was in Africa I ordered coffee. This impressed the local men of power who thought I liked heat, so the following day I was assigned to the fields, tending the drought-ridden crop of beats. When I took my shirt off under the midday sun, all the men and women in the fields ran back to town. I was later interrogated about the markings on my back-a tattoo, silly people, of a werewolf consuming a village of African children.
** **
We should have spoken on the elevator by now about anything-even sports though I
despise the topic-but instead I studied the cross pattern of gray carpet beneath my feet. A pen was dropped between us, a fantastically large red one, which at first made me think: oh no, a severed finger has just fallen off one of our hands or from the ceiling from all the tension built up. It was just a pen, however, and the descent was over.
** **
Whereas email has ruined my ability to spell correctly, T9 text messaging has sharpened my skills:
tomorrow - decision - rhythm
will never again see: tommorrow - descision - or ryhtm
In fact, the phrase, tomorrow’s decision for rhythm will land like a bald eagle on the sands of Iraq:
confidently - firmly - righteously
** **
I do not design interiors for cabins in the woods, but even I realize that a chandelier made of antlers is a brilliant invention. And while I’m completely against almost any anti-corporate campaign, I wouldn’t mind seeing Caribou Coffee spear Starbucks with a set of horns. They may have fair trade coffee, but I prefer traffickers of creative lighting.
** **
You may order a Sapporo while you are out eating sushi composing this crap, but did you know that they come in 1pt. 6 oz. sizes? That is however many ounces are in a pint plus 6. If you order 2 Sapporos, that’s however many ounces are in 2 pints, plus 12 oz. which is the regular size of beer.
** **
There are 34 tea lights on the 34 tables in this restaurant. Only 6 of these tables are occupied. If I was suspended from ropes-bare chested-18 inches from the remaining 28 lights arranged on the same table, my skin may darken with exposure to heat and soot (the technical name is particulate matter). If I turned my head to the mint green ceiling and yelled, “Not one more!,” I would be making a statement about landmines, or lobsters, or lichens (in this sense I mean werewolves). 5 of the 6 tables in this DC haunt would applaud no matter what cause I was supporting. The left over table would say, this is why I hate living on the east coast: because of all the activism, but they would just go along to get along. Most people would come over to my suspended body to pat me on the back. I’d kinda smile, hoping the sweat falling off my nipples was not putting out the flames. But mostly, I’d be thinking, “how do you buy coke when no one you know does it?
** **
The second night I was in Africa I ordered coffee. This impressed the local men of power who thought I liked heat, so the following day I was assigned to the fields, tending the drought-ridden crop of beats. When I took my shirt off under the midday sun, all the men and women in the fields ran back to town. I was later interrogated about the markings on my back-a tattoo, silly people, of a werewolf consuming a village of African children.