novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- various miscellaneous dulled down and limber. 00 - being social is good but only when you have time allotted to walk around the giant salt lake a block from your apartment with a cd player you recently fixed attached to your head, blaring the velvet underground. 01 - my pants smell like autistic kid. i don't know how to properly describe such a smell; it is like grandmother or delicatessen. 02 - i am recently wanting someone to cuddle with. to couple with? it feels differently than my sporadic crushes; it is an overall decision my heart has made and clued me into. maybe not my heart but my body and it is a needy frame, i feel lately, needing needing needing. you can't just decide to find someone if you're me. it doesn't work that way. 03 - even bras specifically designed for the chestier ladies do not fit right. DDDs that try to escape do not bode well inside the tried and true methods. there is the underwire and the adjustable straps, all very well and good. but still. and there is the tiny pocket my breasts leave in-between that gathers slight moisture during the day, especially when running after hyper autistic children for eight hours. at night when i take off the bra i feel this pocket and its film, and wonder if i had less chest would i still have centre sweat? 04 - it is very hard to ignore obtuse sounds when trapped in a van with their makers, inches away from your ears. 05 - bowling is especially entertaining when hopped up on caffiene. you can still concentrate, but don't mind the occasional gutterballs. and jenn came after a much bereaved absence. 06 - my tattoo has healed. the banana has peeled and he sits midflight hopefully content. 07 - reminding myself to do something by writing it on the backside of my right hand doesn't make me golden. 08 - angie transferred to my elementary school in the middle of third grade and immediately dominated wall ball. she had long, curly red hair and the frame of a tall twelve year old boy. she wore tube socks and everyone loved her until she transferred out in the middle of fourth grade. i remember sleeping over at her house, which was really her grandmother's; an altered storage space of her mother's childhood and her grandmother's knitting. dust and plastic storage boxes. everything in brown, from sofa to carpet to walls. after christmas she left and i never played wall ball again. 12:20 am - 05.29.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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