crushin' on everyone
a storm was brewing: there were pink skies & fireflies, diet cokes & corny jokes. sitting on the long grass of a hill, we watched the storm come, the wind change. lightening lit up a solitary patch of clouds in a way i've never seen before - flashing lightning from above, lighting the clouds from behind. i said it looked like god does in cartoons: throwing around lightning bolts lazily, lollygagging about on top of the cotton-ball clouds. majestic, isolated, mysterious.
on the longest day of the year, i smoked shisha with engineers, drank whiskey in the bathroom of a basement bar & then in an attic apartment when the bar closed. we walked down the backstreets to avoid the brothel & mission house on spadina, walking on our hands & knees, somersaulting & being carried. i slept in someone else's bed with someone else's boy (nobody's in particular, but not mine anymore). the air was thick & the noises of the late night - early morning - seeped through the curtainless window.
the summer solstice & the conclusion of june give me a small feeling of sadness - like it's all downhill from here - but all signs seem to be pointing up! in fifty-two days i will be leaving this continent for one year. my calendar is full up until then with concerts, plays, birthdays, meetings, work events & a trip out east.
there is an interactive map on the website of the american university of paris, showing where the 1000 students come from. there are people from countries that i have never heard of; it's a good thing lauri lent me her lonely planet book which i have been travelling through in alphabetical order. right now i'm in denmark.
on the longest day of the year, i smoked shisha with engineers, drank whiskey in the bathroom of a basement bar & then in an attic apartment when the bar closed. we walked down the backstreets to avoid the brothel & mission house on spadina, walking on our hands & knees, somersaulting & being carried. i slept in someone else's bed with someone else's boy (nobody's in particular, but not mine anymore). the air was thick & the noises of the late night - early morning - seeped through the curtainless window.
the summer solstice & the conclusion of june give me a small feeling of sadness - like it's all downhill from here - but all signs seem to be pointing up! in fifty-two days i will be leaving this continent for one year. my calendar is full up until then with concerts, plays, birthdays, meetings, work events & a trip out east.
there is an interactive map on the website of the american university of paris, showing where the 1000 students come from. there are people from countries that i have never heard of; it's a good thing lauri lent me her lonely planet book which i have been travelling through in alphabetical order. right now i'm in denmark.