me & bean we had us a little vacation & we used it to do things like babysit the weetzie-bat, & spend the christmas money from my mother on impossibly swank clothes, & see crooked fingers (yes bean stood in a bar filled with smoke & indie kids), & watch
sweetie &
the purple rose of cairo, & steal our downstairs neighbors' sunday paper, & weed out boxes & boxes of books & cds & records.
the clothes, they are very swank, i will not shut up about them. among other things there is a backless dress, which necessitates my hosting a cocktail party; among other things there is a shirt the likes of which i have previously protested, because it has crazy indescribable sleeves with giant slits in them, maybe someone who knows about fashion can help me describe the sleeves. & other swank clothes besides. i sat crying in a couple of dressing rooms about the usual things women cry about in dressing rooms, with my own variations such as, if i am six feet tall & models are six feet tall why are there no clothes long enough for me.
i am absolutely serious about having a cocktail party.
yesterday in honor of things-to-be-gotten-over i was going to come home & play dress up & rock out to all the new music that has been piling up with me too busy to listen to it but not too busy to buy more of it. really screaming around your living room to impolitely loud music in your best dresses is probably a very nice way to get over it, but then i thought surely after eight years there's not much left to get over, so i spent most of the afternoon sitting in bed in a t-shirt finishing the light years & then i got sad because i was not rocking out & there would be a war. the war was both in the universe of the books & in my own universe. the clock-radio went off at some preset time & on the radio they were talking about the my-universe war, what else.
i wanted to say about the sky. i work in a building with few windows for very well-reasoned security concerns, so it was a great joy to walk out of the clinic this afternoon with the grotto in my ears, very perfect, & this startling smooth sky waiting for me to walk out into it. at the bus stop i leant against the shelter & closed my eyes so that the rare sun could light up the blood in my eyelids.
