we must document our love

i just got down on my hands and knees and thanked my cat. as bitchy and superior as cats are, she is always there when i need her. maybe she can smell the thought of tears.

i walked in from trying on hats in the bathroom and found her in the middle of the floor, rolled onto her back with her paws stuck up limp in the air. head lolled to the side, eyes closed. so i knelt down and buried my face into her soft under-fur. surprisingly she didn't seem to mind. i took my thumb and finger and stroked her face and chin, thanked her for being here now, and kissed her on the cheek. sometimes just being here is enough.

i have decided that i am definitely going to buy a motorcycle. if not soon, then sooner than later. if not for myself, to spite everyone who has told me not to. especially those with threats. {if i mute the television, the only sounds in the room are the soft thrumming of the fans, the mechanical heartbeat of their motors, coming and going. the fan of the computer, a digital swallow if it thinks for a second. and with the tv muted, i can watch the pussycat dolls dance without having to listen to them sing.} i have a feeling that my fear of riding one will be my saviour. country roads... a 500 twin sounds nice. not too big or small. or maybe a 350 single. enough room for a frightened girl to ride behind me, digging her fingers into my stomach when we take curves too fast. enough for a backpack and sleeping bag. sleep tangled by a river.

i've been reading... it's too late to come up with motorcycle visions by myself. no, i want a hilke, as well as a clare, and a helen... you get the picture. that's the upside of literature, the characters are as perfect as you like. no dealing with real people. as it is...

someone has found it, somebody is losing it, and i have never it.

oh what a world this is

last weekend, at the beach, there was a girl. i saw her walk out by the pool and sit down on a long chair. took off her top and lay down in her bikini and book. i was standing out on our porch forty yards away, both watching her and pretending i wasn't. i don't even know how old she was, never could tell. for a day or two i would see her sitting with apparent family, guys too old to be involved with her. having a bite to eat in ginger's cafe with my dad, i would spin around on my stool and catch a peek across the pool to their group, lounging out. eventually, she was gone.

i have been listening to too much bright eyes. after dropping my grandmother off at her house wednesday, i took her landboat and slid in lifted, back to 'lets not shit ourselves' and took to the backroads at inappropriate speed. ducking into the left lane to miss potholes and singing to the goddamn fidelity of the speakers... after my mother left i went and plugged myself up into the amp and sat on top, slowly toggling. i always love how much of that wood is butter with your eyes closed. up with the gain, up with the level, up with the master volume. up so the windows shook and i couldn't hear my voice getting muddled in the vibrations. just shitting ourselves over and over again. like a concert when the guitars are so loud you can feel it in front of, behind, and thumping your solid chest, beating the air out of your lungs. when i can feel the floor grumbling below my feet and the beast moaning and shaking with every new sound right below me.

also, i waste a little time online looking to buy a liter of jose but not feeling like figuring out a way to do it without my parents knowing. not really worth it, is it? store it somewhere, get it in something for a party, for my own enjoyment. aren't even allowed to buy a flask, am i? that's no fun. i think it's all in the pursuit finding a mutually drunk friend and seeing what happens. so unlike me...

i was driving kristina home today, my arm out her window. dead ended to the old country highway, a large truck coming in from the right, a random eighties olds or buick slowing from the left, left turn signal on. the van in front of me turns out right with plenty of room. i don't want to wait for the truck and feel the stupid guy-ish need to test the turbo again, so i glance out and, almost without even thinking about it until after i was moving, jabbed the throttle and pulled out left. granted, it was fast, but while fully engulfed by the right lane, i looked up and saw that olds no more than thirty feet away, heading straight towards me. he went and turned back where i came from and i zoomed on into my own lane with the sudden thought: what if he wasn't turning? happens all the time, really, people leave their flashers on... considering the speeds and the fact that he was slowing, if i had wrongly assumed the situation, he would have hit me square in the driver's door. well there's an accident and i blame him for leaving his signals on but... i would be arguing? say i lived, what with the side curtain airbags and steel impact protection in the door... my arm was hanging out the window. i easily lose my left arm, right there. maybe the collision forces my left shoulder out of joint and a dirty broken collarbone. my left knee is crushed against the steering column. i argue over the blinkers, an amputee in a wheelchair. and where does my life go from there? forget ever playing music again. i have difficulty imagining it. my life's still just begun. funny how i could voluntarily end it so quickly.

i have to survive to face my motorcycle...