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last night was supposed to entail sleek, smooth skin, aromatic hair, and a certain new undergarment all waiting for that middle of the night sexual healing... instead i got kind of maniac around 9pm and began pulling my house apart, starting with the kitchen and bathroom and ending in the living room. imagine it: me and about 200 cds splayed in a U around me, cases open, squirrel nut zippers working me into a frenzy. it took over an hour, but i got all the random cds in their cases, along with the double, sometimes triple, cased cd. i have a lot of music. and i found the old shakespeare's sister tape and put that on. it's short, so then i put in the tape matthew gillespie made for me. have i told y'all about this tape? it's nothing special really. MG graduated with a double BFA in music performance and composition. his exit piece was written for the flute and the piano. it was also written for me (in that friendly kind of way). so, he made a tape of it for me and framed the music sheets so i could have them (only 6 out of the 14). so, i listened to this, trying to wind down. no luck. i headed for the bedroom and stripped the sheets. new sheets, pillow cases and throws later (around 11pm), i decided to fold the laundry. i finally got in the shower around midnight after reading a bit to try to wind down and finding myself tapping my foot. my drain is slow. this is the result of bad plumbing and crazy hair. i spend so much time in the shower, the water is at dangerous heights. i don't get grossed out by this. in fact, i don't even notice it until i'm getting out. it's like my body is on fast forward and my mind is on mute. so, i take out my contacts, spray on some leave-in conditioner, work my community-traded body shop hair stuff through with my fingers (combing wet hair is a NO NO!), rub satsuma lotion all over (feet, elbows, shoulders, ass, you name it), slip into aforementioned new undergarment and slide into fresh sheets. i'm trying to get comfortable and lay so that i won't wake up with crazy bed hair. the time is now 12:45. it's dark and cool with a fresh breeze filtering in from the cracked windows. i fade out. only to be jerked awake sometime later by a slight movement behind me. i pull away and stand up quickly, breath fast and harsh. my eyes narrow in on the movement and it's the boy, doing what he's supposed to do - waking me up. and i'm freaking him out. i'm shaking and breathing fast and freaking him out. so, last night at 1:30 am, the boy and i engaged in our first "horrible experiences" talk. i told him all about it... how a boy i once loved snuck through my sister's window and made his way to my room where i lay sleeping. i tell him how that boy woke me up by kissing me and how i tried to explain to him that i really was tired and really just wanted to go to sleep and couldn't he come back tomorrow or maybe he's tired, here lay down. i explained how that invitation to sleep led to one of the most violating and humilating events in my life. and my boy just listened, my head on his chest, his pulse steady, just listened. i don't cry. and that's good cause i think had i cried, his heart would have broken. but i did spend up all my energy and i was finally exhausted and we curled up together and went to sleep. i think i could tell him anything.
you got something to say?
this is today's 1st entry
playing: electric - daniela mercury
reading: quarashi website White Teeth
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