26 November 2006

how un-characteristic

I see lollipop laughing light little petticoats, giggle giggle giggle and you wear that shirt so well. I see wind in the trees (all leaves, all leaves) and books upon books upon your faded leather jacket. You strut, I know it, I know you, page 576 lets study over drinks. At the risk of being lame, I claim comparative negligence the way you’ve been pulling me, on the pull, not pulling my hair but pulling my cliché. Bottom line, footnote time, you’ve turned my brain to mush and I’m an instant gratification kind of girl.

I was never one to hang on to nothing: I’ve just got to kiss you before Christmas.

11 November 2006

candid curry

We were supposed to be at the restaurant at 7:30, but Sylvia, Lane, and Eugene rolled up to the Plex around 8 to pick me up. I had been watching wheel of fortune and reading Elizabeth Cady Stanton, killing time and not studying.
I had asked Sylvia if she wanted to go out to eat Thursday night, told her I needed some curry in my blood and have you heard of the great Indian place on magazine street? She more than agreed, needed some korma therapy, but said she had to break a date with Eugene to do it. I said ‘tell him you had plans with me and you forgot, invite him along even…’
Sylvia, Eugene and I all have something in common, lack of wheels. Transportation. Vehicle handicapped. I had told her I would meet the two of them at the restaurant by scooter, my Babette. But nights in New Orleans by scooter are chancy-- the potholes could swallow you whole and the drivers and martinis… so I was happy when she called and said Lane was coming and he had a car.
Its like 1950s bohemia, the way we covet the cars.
Lane is blond and curly and has a light southern accent that makes me feel comfortable. I had met him at the barristers ball, I know, but I don’t remember a word I said to him because I had been friends with gin that night, trying to get the most of my $200 dress. Eugene is quick and funny, he’s got a look like a candy cane.
We went to Indian curry and split dishes and talked about the dems taking the house and senate, pedagogy and small southern towns. Weekends. Clubs. Life in excruciating general.
Lane is from Louisiana. Eugene’s from California. Sylvia is from Boston. I’m from Atlanta by way of the world. Afterwards we dropped Eugene off at someone’s house, for him to continue the rest of the night in reckless abandon no doubt. Sylvia just glows. Like always. She is so beautiful. Everyone falls in love with Sylvia. And you can’t even hate her for it, because she is so genuine.
Lane said he has some friends that I could meet. I ask him if they speak a second language. I don’t usually sleep with guys that speak only one language. He asks if this has any connection to me asking him earlier if he remembers any Italian from his year in Florence. I tell him I don’t date law students. He says it isn’t too late for him to drop out.
It’s a good night.

05 November 2006

everyone deserves a twenty-second chance?

late night calls from the ex
I miss you I love you I will always love you I’m sorry

So, what are you wearing?
[ Rinse, repeat. ]