It's Saturday so I went to the mall and cruised Liquidation World and some crap made-in-China clothing store for discount sweatpants. Most of my clothes are still elsewhere, for a few days.
There is something wrong with a world where I ended up with: a blazer, boots, a polo, a tank, sweats, a sweater, a dress shirt and two pairs of underwear for $35. As I walked out of the door swinging a plastic bag with a new wardrobe, I wondered how the exploitation making these clothes compared with the levels of exploitation used to make clothes from the other stores there and tried to adjust my guilt accordingly.
My new house has a dog and an extensive liquor cabinet, I like it. Not a little crap dog, either, she's a bull terrier with manners. My new life has many acquaintances but few social commitments and I revel in the quiet, in the anonymity of sidewalks and new places. It contrasts well with work, which is a moving mural of life's collisions and darkest moments, something where redemption is a rarity.
you're too beautiful to f*ck
listening: [kevin drew]
It was the expression on his face that made it easier to leave without any conversations. I had somewhere to be and the best way to go, an early morning taxi. The look on his face, even in the dark, was soft and certain like this was an inevitability and meant to be, and a start instead of an end. His eyes conveyed this simultaneously as they searched for the same answered back. It's funny that everything is blurry now about what happened except that look.
Today he says seriously, come visit, and I partly don't think we should ever talk again.
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