billybillybilly

Running out of steam to write lately, so I'll just tell you a smaller story.

And maybe this is just an over-share, but I'd like to think I'm good at those.

*

Last night got beautiful after a beer and three or so glasses of wine. It was white, but I can't tell yet if that's a factor in anything.

Walked home, tipsy but none the worse considering.

Neutral Milk Hotel has been playing in my head for days and days. You've no idea. Sometimes it's like someone reached into your heart and ripped words out, spit them down on paper, got really mad at their guitar and turned them into something beautiful... but I digress.

The wind was playing in the streets. Churning up loose scraps and papers, plastic bags and maybe lost jewelry. The corners forgot their people and the people went home to make new memories.

And I walked out to understand something.

Turning the corner around a building in an alley I was strolling through I surveyed a building that looked rather tempting, I was hoping for a fire escape, but it didn't have one. But it had just the right kind of rain gutter. Testing my weight on it, one foot up over the other it was like I didn't have much of a choice. Reached the top and hooked my hands inside the gutter to hold so my foot could reach the last crossbar. Tipsy but steady enough, reached up, body down, roll onto the roof.

Empty inside out ceilings.

Tar paper.

Lightning coursing through the clouds. Clouds puffy like a tarp over the darkness, town lights illuminating their belly.

So I did the only logical thing at that point, which was to masturbate and watch the sky. Finished up, and climbed back down, pulse racing.

But I'm not exactly sure why.