Jake, do you remember in high school when we used to stay up ‘til 4am on summer nights writing and reading and listening to music (in our own bedrooms, you know, but we’d talk about it ithe next day) and then wake up at 2 or 3pm and have breakfast and then our next meals we called them “Dinner Number One” and “Dinner Number Two” and how dinner number 2 always involved a lot of dairy: either in the greasy pizza cheese dripping from the firm crusts at Backroom, laid out on rectangular pieces of tin foil or those gooey sloshy milkshakes from Pizza House?
Do you remember at night when we’d lie on our jackets in the back of Josh’s pick-up truck and stare at the stars? And how he cut his hand open at Backroom Pizza so he could get sent home for a day and I thought wow that’s so hard core.
I’ve been working on a book lately, which has taken time. Reading so much, even without the five books I left in the taxi cab, and trying to be smart and creative and always interested.
On Friday, I was shuffled from room to room at the Metropolitan Hospital to see a doctor on the crisp edge of senility who listened to me talk for about five minutes and then diagnosed me with bipolar disorder, which I absolutely do not have. Meanwhile in the waiting room my psycho friend who I’d bene shuffled around with kept repeating:
Doctor, I have a lot of problems. I have a whole lot of problems. Can you see me now, I’m not normal. I used to have a Camaro.
If you want to communicate with Lo or I, I’d reccomend you please go check out the film Pretty Persuasian, so that you will know what we’re talking about when we ask Do You Fuck Dogs? WONDER TWINS!!!
do you fuck dogs?
On Friday night we watched lesbian movies and Lainey made cake that looked like breasts and Tara and I wanted pizza just not enough to move, except Haviland who I just met fast-forwarded to all the sex scenes in DEBS.
On Saturday Lo and I saw Red Light Winter in the west village. The humor was cutting and lovely and it was sad and fantastic, and I felt a bit extra cultured for spending a Saturday afternoon at the theater. Afterwards we had greasy food at the Waverly and in my head, I heard Fiest or maybe just Bob Dylan.
Last week I had Viatnamese and free wine with Krista, who reminds me of things.
I didn’t watch the oscars, I watched The L Word. I saw thirty seconds of The Oscars beforehand, enough for Jake Gyllenhal to remind me that I am at least 50% heterosexual.
Last weekend was cold and tense, this week eventually calmed into submission. I felt like I spent a lot of time on trains this past week, but maybe it’s cause I just spent two hours getting home without The L train. I relaly need to make paece with the JMZ.
There’s an Annie Lennox song from Lo’s new CD stuck in my head.
I fixed the TV and then it broke again.
I’ve started watching Season Five of The West Wing too. So I can be in almost complete denial that our country is going to hell in a handbasket at the promptings of a bone-head.