novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- all of them see through me the apartment above me, the one heather and i lived in? it's vacant again. prospective renters are stomping around upstairs, speaking in raised voices that echo off the blank walls where lori's photographs hung, where heather nailed her entire collection of bracelets on a towel rack. but it was a ritzy towel rack. brass and whatnot, its odds and ends left in a drawer and we found them when we moved in. i found out something horrible today at work and the person there i most wanted to talk about it with left with another coworker while i was wandering around talking on a cell phone crying. i hate cell phones and i hate dead stares. i hate paper trails and threats and defenseless disabled children getting taken advantage of. i hate that the people above me are moving around so loudly. their footsteps and fuzzy voices are all that i can hear and focus on and it makes me feel perpendicular, like an upside-down upper-case letter T. part of me is dormant and the other is on high alert. 5:46 pm - 05.16.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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