yesterday mischka reached across the table & grabbed my hands & wrote on them. he wrote "L" on my right palm and "R" on my left. "
now you're fucked," he said. i just looked down & the letters are still there.
[[[6.56 is too early to be at work.]]]
i've been wanting to write about the construction, the renovation really, that is happening across the street from my apartment, but when i try it always sounds flat & self-indulgent. i think construction is sexy & gorgeous: & so i wonder why construction workers are so often unsexy, when building things is so hott. i sit up in bed, afternoons, & watch the construction guys walking around on this precarious half-finished roof, & wonder if they ever look in at me, & wonder why they don't seem to realize that building things is so hott.
outside they are constructing & i am sitting up in bed, half watching tv half watching them.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:but today my brother is twenty-two years old, & happy birthday hermanito i love you now write me some robot songs.
