novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I need earplugs and a reduced sexuality Every so often he'll come and stand in the hallway outside my door. Usually when he's had a little to drink. He'll speak in a voice a little louder than he needs to, to roommates down the hall, flitting between bedrooms, downstairs, the bathroom. I'll turn up Bob Dylan and make sure the door is shut as much as it can. As much as it will. The catch inside the knob is broken and it likes to sway open, but if I hang my purse on the inside doorknob usually it gives the illusion of being closed. Usually he'll leave, but sometimes other roommates will tipsily stand with him and talk. And in here I'll be, a thin wall away. Trying to focus, but mostly wishing my bed were actually the entire width of my room so I'd never have to get up out of it. I've dragged my laptop over, propped it up on a pillow. There are kleenex and ginger cookies and chai tea perched on library books. My cell phone, which I never actually answer. Only text messages. 8:05 pm - 02.13.09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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