yeah well, maybe just a little
strangest dream the other night. never kissed you before then. weird but... it was good seeing you.
i don't want the music to go down. i'm in an uncomfortable place again tonight. i don't really feel like talking about it because it makes me sound like such a bastard. when the music goes down, i can hear the shit tv in the other room. it reminds me i'm not alone down here.
tonight at dinner - tk tripp's - i walked to the bathroom to facilitate our food arriving. it came just after i left. in there, i could hear the radio. it sounded familiar but it wasn't until i was in the stall with my belt undone that i recognized the song. brought back memories of late late nights at school listening to it softly over and over again while trying to finish some work. kept me going. i stood there, belt sticking out, listening. when the chorus hit - oh - i danced. i danced down low, all around so nobody could see me. i danced with my fingers and toes, arms and legs and unmentionables. just in place, just to the tune for a while. and when the chorus ended i, well, i sat down. and when i got up again and nobody else was there, before i fastened my belt, i danced to the chorus again and again. happiness is dancing in an empty bathroom.
i need to move out.
i've decided to be a racecar driver. a weekend vintage volvo racecar driver. it would make me happy. fuck what people say. i'd rather die spectacularly flying over a guardrail than with renal failure confined to a bed, 90 years old. where in those years do you live? where do people live anymore? everything is so safe and pre-planned. packaged. boxed. and, to be sure, vintage racing isn't the most dangerous thing out there. but it is classy, it is slightly dangerous, it damn well will be fun, and during my short time here (at least 1/4 gone already...) i'm gonna fucking do something.
our waitress tonight was really quite pretty.
i don't want the music to go down. i'm in an uncomfortable place again tonight. i don't really feel like talking about it because it makes me sound like such a bastard. when the music goes down, i can hear the shit tv in the other room. it reminds me i'm not alone down here.
tonight at dinner - tk tripp's - i walked to the bathroom to facilitate our food arriving. it came just after i left. in there, i could hear the radio. it sounded familiar but it wasn't until i was in the stall with my belt undone that i recognized the song. brought back memories of late late nights at school listening to it softly over and over again while trying to finish some work. kept me going. i stood there, belt sticking out, listening. when the chorus hit - oh - i danced. i danced down low, all around so nobody could see me. i danced with my fingers and toes, arms and legs and unmentionables. just in place, just to the tune for a while. and when the chorus ended i, well, i sat down. and when i got up again and nobody else was there, before i fastened my belt, i danced to the chorus again and again. happiness is dancing in an empty bathroom.
i need to move out.
i've decided to be a racecar driver. a weekend vintage volvo racecar driver. it would make me happy. fuck what people say. i'd rather die spectacularly flying over a guardrail than with renal failure confined to a bed, 90 years old. where in those years do you live? where do people live anymore? everything is so safe and pre-planned. packaged. boxed. and, to be sure, vintage racing isn't the most dangerous thing out there. but it is classy, it is slightly dangerous, it damn well will be fun, and during my short time here (at least 1/4 gone already...) i'm gonna fucking do something.
our waitress tonight was really quite pretty.
posted by sunshine at 11:23 PM
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