- hold on, isn't this track groovy? (...he said)
- (melt. I love my life) yes.
[insert Mr. West and Hova’s ‘who gon stop me’ here]
A week starting with sleeping in, massages, a bar tab of $1.62, and the best damn braided mustache you’ve ever seen.
Followed by running every am, a chance to show off some useless hidden barbering talent, soup cans and scary monsters (with not so scary monsters), a day full of family, ceviche and micheladas til we explode, and - keep my fingers crossed - some more of an old man.
And it won’t even be the weekend yet.
- Thunderstorms and lightning
- Coffee in a mug
- Mr Bruno
- Miss you texts at 6am
- Leather-bound classics. With inscriptions
- A Julietta from Habanas
- Saturday am soccer with dad (I don't even understand)
- Surprise ganster rap on shuffle and NOT being embarrassed
- Three day weekends. All. My. Life.
It’s been too long and every second is short and the same and so different it’s becoming hard to keep up with. Like I race to out do you and win and be better and though I know it’s without saying you race on in my head. And I look over and it’s there and there’s nothing that I feel and I try and invite them in and I lose myself in the family and I look over to you and it is nothing at all. And I think of the other and its lovely to picture it all and the songs and the water and the carpet under my skin and the skin on it all. And he looks through the lenses and I look through to it and there’s nothing, and hes looking and looking and I’m seeing nothing at all. And those hands they remind me of cold rainy days and everyone would die of it all and I’d probably just smile.
- Her: you need to get married so you can wear a fabulous dress
- Me: I wear fabulous dresses on Tuesday's
This weekend will begin with a black eye. Then, I will have my favorite sandwich with my little brother who nearly broke his neck. And then, dinner with an amazing old friend who I haven’t seen in years.
Followed by a trip to a favorite bookstore (I’m all out of classics!!), a street festival of foods, a visit to see dinosaur bones, some historic buildings, some more old friends, and maybe a drink to celebrate new things.
Growing up to be who you really are is actually quite lovely. Boring, if you just read it here, but full of adventure if you make it.
Someone to share the details with. She said it, I listened, it’s true.
I want you to know that you hurt my feelings. I waited for you to be proud of me and show me things, and you never were and you never did.
But the next person will. And I can’t wait.
And whether or not what I learned about you was true, I’m not upset over it. You chose her, no matter how you put it, but that’s ok. I’ll be ok. So don’t you worry.