Monday, August 14, 2006

The trouble is that being sad sneaks in like cold around a poorly fit doorframe, and I'm up to my elbows in it before I realize that it's here. I keep hoping that they're going to start handing out subscriptions to butterflies and puppies with my morning coffee, but it hasn't happened yet. And it might be a little bit because everyone is behaving as though the first person anywhere to just be nice is going to be depantsed or something, but it could also be because of too much sun. I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine.

I'm leaving for Florida on Wednesday, and we already know that there are a whole lot of things about that town that make me feel small and mean and twelve-years-old. But there are also whole rooms of people who will obey when I demand that they hug me, a nice boy who will pet me like a kitten without even being asked, and a delicious brand new baby. They might all look at me like I'm some sort of critter they've never seen before and aren't at all sure how to classify, but it's a familiar perplexed look, at the very least.

I've been trying to get over it, but Seattle, you are still freaking my shit out. When I come back you'll invite me over to listen to records and everything will be cool again, ok?

Late night airports are one of the (many) place I imagine myself meeting someone who will elope with me to Coney Island.

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