Dear everyone,
Another month has gone by, so it's time to pay the rent and talk to you. (I really enjoy the conceit that most of the time I'm talking to myself here. It helps me rationalize why so many of you are silent--it's because you're imaginary.)
I spent most of the month of April being sullen, going out too much, and gesturing wildly. I'd intended to start May off right, by being something other than grouchy, but then this morning my hair straightener was broken. As a result, I've spent the day wandering around town all tousled. If there was ever a way to make me feel like 1998 again, it's by giving me no control over this untidy mop, and the fact that everyone else seems to like it is just sort of adding insult to injury.
Today I met a man with only one leg. The reason I know that he was possessed of just one is because he said, "Hey, do you want to see something?" right before rolling up the leg of his pants and handing the prosthesis to me. It's certainly a charmed sort of something I'm living here. I held his leg awkwardly, not sure how one is supposed to handle such things, until it seemed like he felt I had gotten whatever the point was.
The point that I got, by the way, is that false legs are heavy. I don't know how they compare to real legs, never having held a detached one of those, and I'm not sure that's what I was supposed to be understanding anyway.
I'm still restless and cranky and idly considering running off somewhere. There's a chance Caroline and I will make a field trip to LA next month, to see friends and answer questions and be out of town, and Sarah and Jesse have finally bought tickets for their trip out here in July. In between now and then I'm just going to try not to self-destruct and, hopefully, start sleeping again.
love,
me
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