(no subject)
Oct. 8th, 2001 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantit's snowing here! motherfuckers.
last night the b-side with jackie, sharon, clay, christa, jenny & i. clay who works at the d.a.'s office in manhattan. the d.a.'s office! astounding. we talked up a storm, pinched in the corner booth (with xtra-keen waitress jen, blonde spitfire) with jackie and clay pounding back tequila shots. eventually talk got round to kabul, to bombs, to fire and civilians and patriotism and all that rot: jackie talks about beirut, about fear. we all agree. clay's got the glint in his eye, though: he watched it happen. he's got the scar. boston, he keeps saying. boston is so much nicer. so untouched, he means. so unharmed.
before the bar we stopped in at s&j's to meet up and got to meet the second puppy, albert. so tiny and perfect and delicate: proportionate. so unlike edith. albert is nearly feline. edith is a ferret or a fox. edith jumps over my knee as we walk in, albert barely calf-high on his back legs, looking up with perfect little eyes, getting stepped on by spastic edith.
at the harvard platform this morning was a tall man singing in portuguese, slowly, with a guitar. sounding sad and unreachable. i almost cried. warmth coming back into my cheeks after the frozen wait for the bus, with my hood up against the wind. over and over the only word i could understand was mi corazon, corazon, corazon.
r wakes me occasionally with her grinding teeth. i can feel my jaw clenched, too. brave girl stayed home while we went to the bar, reading, writing letters. she leaves this morning with my green sweater. nobody predicts this cold, this biting wind. this unpreventable weather.
tonight will be the first frost.
otherwise i slept well. no dreams.
last night the b-side with jackie, sharon, clay, christa, jenny & i. clay who works at the d.a.'s office in manhattan. the d.a.'s office! astounding. we talked up a storm, pinched in the corner booth (with xtra-keen waitress jen, blonde spitfire) with jackie and clay pounding back tequila shots. eventually talk got round to kabul, to bombs, to fire and civilians and patriotism and all that rot: jackie talks about beirut, about fear. we all agree. clay's got the glint in his eye, though: he watched it happen. he's got the scar. boston, he keeps saying. boston is so much nicer. so untouched, he means. so unharmed.
before the bar we stopped in at s&j's to meet up and got to meet the second puppy, albert. so tiny and perfect and delicate: proportionate. so unlike edith. albert is nearly feline. edith is a ferret or a fox. edith jumps over my knee as we walk in, albert barely calf-high on his back legs, looking up with perfect little eyes, getting stepped on by spastic edith.
at the harvard platform this morning was a tall man singing in portuguese, slowly, with a guitar. sounding sad and unreachable. i almost cried. warmth coming back into my cheeks after the frozen wait for the bus, with my hood up against the wind. over and over the only word i could understand was mi corazon, corazon, corazon.
r wakes me occasionally with her grinding teeth. i can feel my jaw clenched, too. brave girl stayed home while we went to the bar, reading, writing letters. she leaves this morning with my green sweater. nobody predicts this cold, this biting wind. this unpreventable weather.
tonight will be the first frost.
otherwise i slept well. no dreams.
