it is increasingly difficult to keep from singing along to headphones in public, even if i know how absurd other people look doing the exact same thing. i've taken to singing v.loudly as soon as i come through the door downstairs. i like the echo of my awful voice in the stairs as i approach my apartment.
this is what anyone who was home in apts 4,5,6 heard this afternoon:
but please don't ignore me / that would be / really the end / i just lost a lover / i don't want / to lose a friend / that would be CARELESS / [space for guitar] / BUT I'M NOT STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU
this song & others just as good can be found on torino, by cinerama.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i just noticed that this desk, which was my father's when i was tiny, & which i used to hide in, has a lock (unlocked) in the center drawer.
i wish for a key to it.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:fire inspectors came to the clinic today for a surprise inspection. i walked them around the building & let them into each room. they showed me their ID at the beginning but i couldn't quash this horrible fear|knowledge that they were not from the columbus division of fire, prevention bureau, that they were from some radical blow-up-the-clinics bureau, & that the whole time i was pointing out fire extinguishers & electrical outlets i was doing myself in. in in in in in.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:dear younger brother, please come to visit me. i miss you. it would be fun to sit in the living room, singing.
