I can't get all this out of my brain just yet
Even in dad's letter he said, "I'll call you before you get this because I miss talking to you."
My car. You know, I own a car.
A 1993 Mazda MX6 named Matilda. That's an Australian name. She's an old spinster.
Just like me.
She's dark green with a sunroof and a standard transmission and a cd-player.
Stickers on the back: Amnesty International, Denison Marrs, Face to Face, Guns'n'Roses, Belle and Sebastian, Forever Bluegrass, I *heart* NY...
I think my brother killed her, though, and so now I just should probably sell her before I leave for school.
My practical side sees this as a benefit: there will be less expense each month without a car.
But my heart longs for Matilda. For her clutch. For skipping fourth gear. For her cozy body that wrapped around mine as we accelerated across the Tennessee Valley.
I drive all the time here, but I never go anywhere.
Matilda and I went places.
So I guess I'll try to get a few hundred dollars from her.
Whatever, though. I didn't sit down here to talk about my car.
I have felt like absolute shit all day today. Physically inept. I could not focus or think... all because of tiny aches everywhere.
Mama used to call this the "can't help its". She's right. I don't have symptoms and I can't tell you where it hurts but goddammit I feel like shit and don't want to move, okay?!
I have a papercut on my thumb that is killing me. I think I got it trying to get a piece of gum for this girl I met at Bright Eyes last night.
She was extremely not very cool, and now I have a nice paper cut to remember her by.
This time a year ago I would have had no trouble finding people to soothe my pain.
Somedays it's so hard to find a friend.
Asit is going to hang out with this guy Ryan this weekend. Out in Mauntauk. Boats.
So I don't have anywhere to sleep while in the City, and NY isn't the sort of place where you just "drink till you don't care".
I did that once.
Slept on the beach.
mmmmmm. saaaaaand.
I want to find a cool gift for my mother (Mother's Day is next Sunday, in case any of you out there are assholes to your mom), and I want to see Pedro the Lion. Who cares, though, right?
I can go in on Sunday morning and come back after the show. Sleep all day Saturday. Deal with stupid kid shit.
I haven't talked to my mother in almost two weeks.
She never calls!
It was I who called her the last few times.
She never visits, either.
I swear if I ever have a kid 1,000 miles away from me, and I didn't have a job, I'd come visit her ass.
"It's just a plane ride away"...
I don't really want to see my mom that much. She'll just figure out some piss-poor job I've done making some decision and then tell me what Dr. Phil would have done.
yeah? well Dr. Phil didn't raise me! YOU did! And I'm doing better than that!
Niko (redniko) is one of my favorite people in the world, for some reason, and he says he will marry me, and even let me keep my name, which is good, since "Michaela Tekosky" sounds shitty, and even an instant-message from him couldn't rouse my better moods. Fortunate for me, he thinks I'm cute when I'm manic.
Is this manic enough for you, darling?
I made barbeque chicken and mac'n'cheese for dinner.
Well, shells and cheese. With smoked Gouda and Mozzarella and Cheddar.
There was no Scrubs tonight. Damnit. The one show that makes me feel like I'm hangin out with my friends.
When can I just chill?
Living room? anyone? Movie night?
I'll cook!
I'll bake!
I'll shave first!
Remember back in the winter time when I had girl friends? Then they all stopped talking to me? (so it's not just the boys who panic and walk away).
Well, one of them emailed and wants to "hang out", so maybe I can stay with her. But she lives in Queens.
Holy *ew*, Batman.
Way the fuck out in Queens, too.
Almost to Woodside.
Or Jordan: who keeps inviting me out for music listening.
He's out the L at the Bushwick stop. Yeah right.
You know why I'm friends with Asit? Because he lives in a cool muthfuckin neighborhood, that's why! 2nd Ave and 1st St. Nothing but love.
I wish someone had had a camera (at first I wrote "coma") last night to film me the moment I heard Conor sing,
if you walk away I'll walk away, first tell me which road you will take, I don't want to risk our paths crossing some day, so you walk that way I'll walk this way
Becuase something happened. I could maybe explain to you, but I didn't get a good look at my face when the music started, so I don't really know for sure.
He's just a kid, right? With a guitar and a prolific pen. With excremental regularity (and no, I don't mean incremental or exponential). Every one loves him. Every one wants both his illness and his drug.
And I guess I'm no better.
The last line of the night, along with the first, just encapsulated the whole concert for me.
besides maybe this time it's different; I mean, I really think you like me
But not for the reading.
For the listening.
For the seeing.
For the feeling.
Somebody misses me, I bet.
You just wait; I'll show you.
Somebody misses me!
