the.best.day.

wake-up.
brunch at cafe royal.
haunted house on humbolt.
doggie costume parade in mcgolrick.
carrol gardens.
cobble hill.
hot chocolate.
window shopping.
trick or treaters.
celebrating families.
brownstones.
brouwerij lane.
tasting.
drinking.
picture taking.
paulie gee's.
nutella pizza.

big smiles.

home.
lambic.
more hot chocolate.
dylan.
sleepy heads.

this is what it's all about.

happy halloween.

wayward are we.


over analyzing everything.

love is not fucking.
love is not musical taste.
love is not the front cover of a book.

there will always be the past.

there will
never be
a
time machine.


but


there
can
always,


always, goddamnit!







be hope.

i will get under both
the blanket
and the
sheet.

and

pretend

to not be completely








devastated.















i am pathetic.
crying.
and
getting so goddamn good at being alone.

you know you're special when you're in my phone contact list as only a first name.

4 letters.

come to brooklyn.

tonight.
i will sit on the same side of the booth as you.
and
eat salad.

tomorrow.
i will not have to blow my nose.

saturday.
i will go there. or there. or there. but, most likely there.

sunday.
we will go to storm king.
and
have a picnic.

monday.
i will wake up.

tuesday playlist

i want to scream from rooftops.
i want to scream out the windows of my car while driving on winding upstate roads.
i want to scream at beauty bar, patiently waiting, being chatted up by a creepy virologist.
i want to scream getting off of the L at Lorimer, for the first time.
i want to scream "you forgot your phone charger!"
i want to scream come back to me.

i want to scream.

i want you closer.

i've never met someone that i've never met before.





i like the way mawnin' sounds in my head.
and
i wake up at ungodly hours to check my phone.
and
i want to smell his hair.





in Union Square.

if i still lived in washington.
i would give you a pear.
and a plum.
and
a handful of baking cherries.

from my front lawn.


when it wasn't buried under 4 feet of snow.
and
forgotten by two last names.
that
almost became one.

i would like to thank tom niko hanks and the power of the internet for this lovely tune.

a guy that can smoke a bowl, then dance his face off.
a guy that takes one look at me in overalls and tells me that he's "making me his girlfriend".
a guy that drinks beer and eats nachos and writes bizarro fiction about salad bars.
a guy that lets me come over to watch HBO, makes me PB & J, and gives me a yoga mat.
a guy that makes his birthday as special for me, as it is for him.
a guy that is an 8 months sober, vegan hipster that built a ramp in his backyard.
a guy that lives in milwaukee.
a guy that smiles at me as he walks by with his weimaraner.
a guy that is taking me buddhist chanting on monday night.

a gal that split the $20 with me that i found on the floor at the bar at the bowery.
a gal that is employed as a case worker doing house calls in scary projects stairwells.
a gal that watches her boyfriend perform on stage and dances her love towards him.
a gal that lives in my old bedroom on top of the spa in bay shore.
a gal that smokes a cigarette outside of the music hall, pretending to be a publicist.
a gal that hit her head 4 times in the same day.
a gal that moved to israel, who i miss dearly.
a gal that has sexy legs, according to erik with a k.
a gal that is lost. then found. then lost. then found. then. just exists.

this week's cast of characters.

no one will ever know.

Friday Song.