kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Check Please WARNING: THIS ENTRY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS (OR MY PARENTS WHO WILL SURELY CALL ME TO TELL ME I AM ON AN EXPRESS TRAIN TO HELL) Had lunch yesterday with Birdie and Donuts. I wanted to swallow them up they made me feel so loved. They also told me to get off my ass and start the book. And I have every intention of doing so�this is the perfect time in my life to purge. It�s the perfect time to sit in a coffee shop with a lap top and a head and heart full of words and confusion and hurt and love and loss. I mean how can one be a writer without suffering? They also gave me some advice�it�s time to get mean. It�s time to get honest. It�s time to stop editing. Okay, so you want honesty? Here goes�I fucked the 25-year old last night. And before you go nuts Nicks�don�t worry, I was certain that there was a condom involved. How did it feel? Well�I wish I could say that it was amazing, but considering the five glasses of wine I�d put away with the gals at our wine bar before hand I can�t say that my world actually shook. In fact it didn�t even really rumble. And to do that with someone other than C., well�it was more than a little weird. Woke up this morning and jokingly said to my boy toy, �Did we do anything last night that I should remember?� Ha Ha Ha. He surely thinks I�m insane. He�s probably right. But any-hoo�I feel like I have a little check list of things that will happen in order to wash C. out of my life, and while admittedly this probably should have been a little farther down the list�probably should have checked off the basics like regain ability to eat, regain ability to sleep without booze in my system, set foot in gym again. Oh well. Check! There goes that one. I now have to take a little vacation from the boy toy because the last thing I need right now is some sort of quasi-relationship. But I feel no guilt. I feel rather liberated. So, moving on� I will sober up soon. I will let myself cry. I will do all of this next week�not today, not tomorrow. I am flying home to Vermont on the broken hearted shuttle on Thanksgiving day. Mom will pick me up and then I will cry. I don�t want to cry until I have someone there to hug me whilst I bawl. Moms are the best for that sort of thing. Of course there is also other distractions in Vermont. Mainly my male model man who is always good for a little distraction. We will surely set the little town on it�s ear. If the Caledonian Record had a gossip page (placed right next to postings of hunter�s deer kills and DWI arrests) I would definetely gain headline mention when I blow back into town in the state I�m in. Tonight I have a dinner date and in the interest of catching a whole ration of shit from certain readers I will not mention who the victim is. I promise I�ll fess up after the fact. I am not above selling my soul to the devil himself at this point. But at least after two years of having lost it, I have my soul back. It�s odd�I can�t bring myself to think of C.�s face. I don�t think I looked him in the eyes once on Saturday when we moved my stuff. I can picture other little pieces of him, but not his face, it�s almost as if he never really existed. But like I said, I haven�t gone �there� yet. I think the memories of the past two years of my life are stashed away in a tiny tin storage closet in Chelsea. That�s fine, they can stay there for a bit and I�ll hurl myself through the next month at whatever velocity it takes. La di da. La di da. 2:10 p.m. - 2002-11-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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