I'm looking for a boy to warm my mother's heart
Friday night I walked into Mars Bar with Asit and his friend and picked out the hottest guy in the joint.
Before I finished my shot of Jaeger he walked up to me to ask for a cigarette.
I was coy and kept telling him I couldn't hear him because I was standing too close to the jukebox. So he got closer and asked my name (his is Matthew: not Matt) and age (?) then told me I was pretty then asked me to go outside to smoke.
I gave Asit and his friend a, "hey, let's make this a double date!" smile as I put my hand on this boy's hip and followed him outside.
Sounds cute, eh?
...then his friends all started leaving so he invited me to a "party" (but he added the disclaimer of, "but I don't know why you WOULD want to come...") and then left.
Not quite ready to re-enter that quickly and deal with the "whathefuc?" looks I lit one more.
"Your wearing Chucks!" someone said. "Those went out in '89."
Then he prodded and poked until we were in an all-out verbal fight on the corner. We drew a crowd, even. He wore a Misfits shirt and steel-toed boots and he railed the buttons I wore, the state I'm from, the shoes on my feet, the cigarettes I smoked, and my age until I grew too thirsty and decided I needed a beer.
FACT:: if you argue with me with words I will always win every time.
You can beat me with wit. You can beat me with facts. You can (maybe) beat me with emotions. But if you want to verbally assault me you will lose 100% of the time.
I got three hours of sleep before taking a bus to Boston. On the bus I listened to Iron and Wine until I fell asleep, then when I woke up I started it again... four times until the trip was over.
My love for that album is a weakness, and not a strength.
Boston gave me Scan and Hapi and sodomy like nobody's business.
hi-5
For my birthday I got a Slowdive album and NKOTB trading cards.
Hapi cooked and Scan played guitar and we released doves.
Saturday night we had beers with Christian and a coupla their other firends who I'd never met before. The other 925,947 people at the joint were coke-sniffing bastards who just by the sight of them made me want to punch them in the side of the head.
You know, the girls with huge tits and ugly faces who go out in groups for the sole purpose of getting fucked.
And the guys who fuck them.
I mean, Crystal, Dan, Christian and I snorted plenty of coke, but not from a bathroom stall, you know?
In Boston I saw MIT and creamed my jeans.
Called dad. Called Tylere.
Picked up a Ted Leo/Pharmacists album and ate (not New York) pizza and I got big hugs that I think I needed. Healthy hugs.
There is a tyrrany in distance, sweetheart, but long distance has a way of making love understandable.
I'm wearing a sundress today, and I got money for buying a laptop.
