and the afternoon gets just that much more interesting…
E is having the shit TEE est day ever. Big and disgusting amounts of love from me to him in efforts to calm him down.
I texted an old friend of mine asking him if he ever wrote a song about
me, to which he replied that he was disappointed in my non-flirtatious
text, and called me boring because I wasn’t trying to be fun. I
had a question, for crying out loud. He has done a ton of records. I
figured somewhere I might be added in. You were a strong one, an
inspiration because of your strength, but I wrote no songs about you.
Okay, then. Though he did write this one for some 17 year old
he was in love with at 28 or were you 29, Mr. B-d?
Lame. So I wrote back, FUCK YOURSELF,
to that one that said I was boring. And that was it. He sent me a text
asking me if that was my final statement but it’s not worth answering.
Exes. Sometimes a barrel of fun, sometimes a barrel full of
dead monkeys.
Yes, so I am going into the city tonight to see a show sharply at 7:00
pm at the old Acme Underground of someone I fancied well, and who wrote
a song about me. It might be the first time I have ever heard anything
written about me, let alone a song. I have this ridiculous penchant for
writing and immortalizing and pedestalling all of my loves. Yet the ones
who appreciate it the least get the most. Strange isn’t it? The people
who have the capacity to love us the most give it so you feel it,
instead of just imagining it on paper. So many people I have imagined
and painted and constructed and leveled on paper.
