kindasean

Track One went to Maneater by Hall and Oates, which we played while we tied the laces of our shoes together and swung them around until we had strangled ourselves silly and I believe she knew all the words to every Flock of Seagulls song ever not-played on the radio and we made dioramas of the universe in her backyard.

sniffing cement thru broken noses.

Track Two was the intro to Gummo which made me think of having the flu inside the trailer and the heat not working--bundled up beside her and watching our breath freeze when it left our mouths and us using them for ice cube ammunition and rewinding and rewinding watching the little bunny boy piss off the bridge and--

Track Three was a song written about a suicide. It made her question.

Track Four: The White Stripes, or The Black Lips. Color didn't matter so much. We were frozen solid and everything was so dirty--including the table littered with old bread of various color and shape.

Track Five: And we fucked to Run D.M.C.'s Peter Piper on repeat. She came hard when Bo Peep lost her sheep. I really missed the jacuzzi love we made to Sir Mix-A-Lot.

Track Six: Was a piano filler.

Track Seven: I am beginning to tire.

Track Eight: Nipples. Capsize. And the only sounds we could hear were from the television in the other room playing a Vietnam documentary and the crazy Uncle was talking to the trees, swearing at them that they were next. He grabbed his gun, and we never saw him again.

Track Nine: I was on bicycle watch, and I smoked nine cigarettes waiting for something to happen.

Track Ten is to be continued some time later.