[hot salvation]
it kind of turns me on when you say call...
and then you don't answer.
kind of...
071607: longest day in history.
i've already run out of things to type.
going to get the notebook...
distance is a perfect reminder.
gave up after four attempts to write a letter.
disappointment after seeing that i only write when i am drunk...
and i can never read those parts.
friday:
get to nyc around 10...
get to brooklyn around 11:30
get to sleep around never...
saturday:
leave for syracuse around 11...
taco bell.. mmm
arrive before 5...
he's not buying it because he knows
nothing would stop me from getting there.
recess with ted for a minute...
i'm not buying it because he doesn't stop smiling.
but i am buying the wine...
he's not buying it because i smile when he's on the phone with his mom.
sleep resides (for him) in the last red drop.
mulder no... mulder yes!
built to spill session...
and he's not buying it because i've already said too much.
he drags me out and orders me more drinks...
i'm not buying it because he's showing affection...
and this is HIS place.
i let them believe i am less drunk than i am...
he's not buying it because i have to pee every four seconds
and i can't look him in the eyes...
we have random conversations over the noise,
he's not buying it because i have to sit down...
stopped caring about what's in the new drink he hands me...
memory failure or not blog worthy...
i am not impressed because the night is MY place...
two thousand something miles is now two hundred something..
every two months is now every two weeks... or less..
it's not what you think, is it now?
["endless" airports, or the "it'll be different this time" nervous approach]
["endless" stay in bed all day theory: the art of "NEVER GET TIRED"]
["endless" as the story continues... theme]
a better version; i learned all i needed to know -
an optical illusion of an emotion impossible to recreate.
could have sworn i heard him say-
fuck it.
not important.
sunday:
...and it was too early to be re-assured, though i was...
re-assured.
and we're not buying it anymore,
but i am buying brunch.
illness begins
"there's a hole in my throat"
"you smoked too many cigarettes last night"
"i don't think that's what it is..."
unknown pleasures session.
i have to leave too soon, but i didn't leave soon enough.
it hits me as we cross the pennsylvania border...
i have the flu..
there is no comfortable position without..
there is no thought other than..
there is no desire other than..
i'm sick and i need sleep.
monday:
sleep finally comes all day like...
illness continues...
i take the trains to chinatown...
i walk for hours with no where to go...
i make another attempt at a letter...
the noise follows me everywhere
or maybe i follow it.
screaming back and forth with eyes..
skull reader,
read your mind
miss you all the time,
but disappear
see, i really don't mind.

taken from attempt #2:
you know what was said.
is your face squishing into confusion?
it doesn't matter exactly.
just all those stupid little words
floating from your stupid little mouth -
i reach out to touch them,
swirl them into my own...
and when i'm gone they follow me
wherever i go... [not unlike the plague]
i wont remind you. [they belong to me now]

my throat's closing
my bones are breaking
my head's caving in
too much walk/thought
none of this really matters except -
i am reaching for the space next to me
that so recently
was full of you.
more than empty

black hole slowly drains every constructive thought in my head.
all i'm left with is... "where the fuck are you?"

and i'm not buying it because:
aaron and angela hit a dead end.
realized i stopped caring when?
i'm about to fall asleep for the next hour and a half on the bus back to philly
phone rings...
i know what he wants to know...
i'm too tired to be nice.
remembering why i gave up the first time,
i decide to tell him-
"there is someone else."
i have been repeating myself for months...
maybe this will work?
small talk, rhetoric.
he's asking questions he doesn't want to know the answers to.
brutal exhaustion = brutal honesty...
i stop caring and i lose service as i'm saying:
"fuck us. fuck everything that ever happened. fuck everything that was ever said-"
i'm more concerned with getting dropped off in north philly and finding my way home.
more walking, more sneezing and coughing, bodies aren't capable of this much tension...
i quietly turn the keys in the door. tip toe up the stairs in the dark.
head straight to my room.
close, lock the door.
throw the clothes from my body and bed.
lie down, find his pillowcase where i had left it...
finally, she sleeps...
tuesday:
she's not buying it because:
"We used to be tough,but I dont even care anymore "
- posted by angela @ 7:17 PM