going going going.
this weekend.

saturday my apartment finally feels like home.
hot pink dress.
battle with the MTA.
Max Fish.
Epstein's for the pre2k premiere.
Savala's dance party.

late night phone calls.
turn out to be meaningless.
come morning.

sunday did not go as planned.
hungover, at All Saints drinking for free.
pool party.
DMC (minus the Run)
Doug E. Fresh
Andrew W.K.
Tim Harrington
Snakes Say Hisss
Gucci Mane
Delorean
Dominique Young Unique
pizza.
kickball.
second hangover of the day.

paid $53 for a benefit at town hall.
that i never made it to.

no one else is you.

blurry week.

i quit drinking yesterday, around 4:30am.
on my roof.
waiting for the sun to rise.
watching stars move.
shivering.
and
smiling with wonder bread.

i quit drinking, again, yesterday, at 4pm.
visiting matt at poets.
goofy footed.
eating an apple.
and
watching propaganda.

i quit drinking, again, yesterday, at 9:30pm.
after the chrome opening party.
where jr convinced me i should quit tomorrow.
and justin was tending an open bar.
with john cardiel spinning dub.

i quit drinking, again, yesterday, at 10:30pm.
waiting.
on myrtle ave.
on 3 hours of sleep.
and
a 5 hour energy.

i quit drinking, again, yesterday, at 11pm.
at zebulon.
watching mike bones sing songs about us.

goddamn that song.
and
goddamn long hair.
and
goddamn skateboards.
and
goddamn circle tattoos.
and
goddamn text messages.
and
goddamn secret internet blogs.
and
goddamn bed stuy.
and
goddamn bushwick.
and
goddamn poets.

poem.


fuckfuckfuckfuck.

fuck.


fuck. fuck. fuck.
fuck. fuck.
fuck.
fuck.










fuck.




time to sober up.

drunk.
again.


manny mania skate party under the manhattan bridge.
fight.
rain.
epsteins.

drinking since 2.

raised fist.

etnies showroom.
ipod wars taken to itunes.

invites to other skate events.

max fish.
pizza.

red bull after party at the hotel rivington.
drunk for 8 hours.
roof deck.
boys with long hair speaking other languages.

cab home.

dylan is my constant.

repeat tomorrow night.

yesterday, rick turned 30.
and i sweated out the past weeks worth of alcohol.

orlando slapped a white patch on the inside of my cabinet.
stating, "birth control for roaches".
he said he'd have a mojito for me.
somewhere in mexico.
i hate goddamn mojitos.

i saw a mobile knife sharpening service.
just before i heard bushwick blues.
on washington.
then randomly sang beast of burden.
soulfully.

escaping reality while watching joanna attempt to make gnocchi from scratch.
in the heat of a 3rd floor prospect heights walk up.
college jeopardy is difficult.
dylan and i both left with asparagus pee.

matt invited me to a nike party on the LES.
jason invited me to public assembly.
caroline was at papacitos happy hour waiting for her laundry to dry.
erik with a k was sitting in traffic, his lady friend wants to go peach picking.
mom was worried.

it was the last day of my internship.
i could feel everything that made me happy slip away this week.

wedding tomorrow.

one more month.

Matt is hooking me up with a board on thursday.
i told him that i really need one so that i could get to the bars/subway faster.

he likes how i think.

i had a really great night last night.
when you feel so loved by everyone else,


memories of the past 2 years sting a bit less.

big boobs/big electricity bill.

things happen at night.
in bed.
with all of your clothes.
and
all of your lights.
on.

like unsuspecting words from old friends.
and
plans with new ones.

and

the unwillingness.
to
be turned off.

and

lose the buzz.

surprise.
i'm drunk again.
but
this time.
not willingly.


well, i suppose i did take my dog for a walk to a hole in the wall turkeys nest.

and i do suppose that i ordered one PBR.

but i did not suspect that guy with the weird name and weird belt buckle would buy me another.


i also didn't expect him to leave and return with an order of perogi for me, after i mentioned to him that that was what he should have for dinner.

how sweet of him to have the bacon put on the side.
he said, "i suspected you were a vegetarian".

sweet.

he sat to my left.
while
jason
sat to my right.

and bought my next beer.

jason and dylan bonded madly.

he lives on the UWS. works in the music industry. plays guitar in a band. he had rehearsal tonight in willyb.

his eyes were captivating.
his hair, curly.
long.
sweet.

he knew about art therapy, and asked me questions.

it made me feel so proud.

he watched dylan while i went to the bathroom.
and the other guy left.

walk through mccarren.

surprise drunkard.

Storm.

Wet canvas.
PBR respite.

I should have had dinner.

Thunder.

I feel the train rumble beneath my heavy eyelids.

Mosquitos and bums on bunches under tarps.
Humidity.

Dredded foreigner asks for a smoke. I shake my head and smile. Don't you know there are more important things going on in my head than my goddamn curse to be kind? Fuck off. I am waiting for my heart to be shattered into a million more pieces. Couldn't you hear it when you approached?

I walk to the strand. To read poetry written about me. And about all of the other hers. I somehow can't help to still feel proud seeing his name on the shelf.

Unanswered texts. Game over.

Time for another drink.

i want a skateboard.
i want a farm.

i think that owners of vanity license plates are generally fun people.

or assholes.


there are ashes in my hair.
there is blood on my knees.

lesbian sex.
millionaires.
car wrecks.

laying face down on my mother's kitchen floor.
feeling the pull.

ignoring the push.

18 light gray spots of chipped paint
the germs in the light trying to reach for the ceiling fan

please do not put cat on the piano.

the infiltrating music from the front bar


where am i?

LES. attorney street.

but really, where am i?


i wore too much eye make-up.
because i knew it would keep me from crying.

i hate squatting.

i love him.
with his hair parted on the side.

and his friends with their pill problems and baldness.

one act plays that drag on forever.

i am not strong.

i lay a box full of memories upon my kitchen table.
next to his beer.

this is my proof.

i found your tears beneath my pillow.





liar.

42 more days.

Feeling extinct.
I drove past my exit this morning.
Wish I could have gone to the end of the earth.

Rivers. So apropos.

i woke up at 3:30am.
to puke.

couldn't stop.

the past 5 hours have been somber.

thoughts racing.

thinking.
i already did this.

4 months ago.




drove to work in a daze. through the haze.
in slow motion.

i bought a new dress.
for our special day.
i wore it with abandon.
as i waited.
just like i always waited.
just like i always waited.


and soon enough.
it was covered in tear drops.
and
i was being followed home by a strange man.
and
i was turning down different streets.
and
i got a free slice of pizza.
and


i am forever.
gone.


from love.

forgotten.


it's always been too easy for you.









to forget.

i've almost forgotten the taste of orange gatorade.

the feeling of holding my breath while moving through strange buildings.

my alarm clock goes off at 1800.
but i haven't slept.
because cell phones are the devil.

i have fought the good fight.
the sad fight.
the hopeful fight of all fucking fights.

failing.


trembling in my sheets.
with scents so soothing.
nausea.

thinking about the peace corps.
thinking about car dealerships.
thinking about 2 years.
tomorrow.

i am weak.
coyote blood has killed me.

38 missed calls. 15 messages. Bar owners who have my back.

Poetry is just strung together stolen words.

friday song. for you. and me.

One million giraffes.

dewars makes me evil.


i wish i could go back in time.

do you say "three quarters" or "three fourths"?

everyone is different.
especially when it comes to priorities.
and
making the time.

what does it mean?

it means everything in the present.



newport folk festival yesterday.
sharon jones. avett brothers. richie havens. elvis perkins. marching bands on top of a fort. the swell season. ed sharpe.

near perfect day.

with tropical gangster hand signals.
and
dreaded jacob at lefty's, with his story about peacock feather bouquets for moms to be.

on a blanket in the sun.
with a gigantic straw hat, and a phone that has rung more today than any other day.

from 200 miles away.

there's always next year.