pb

goddam it, i'm one bored fucker. journal bomb me with nekkie pics or something.


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this one and only soul to ever hold my sincerest, deepest affections and then cast them aside like so much detritus, my high school sweetheart, my college hang up, my one claim to real love in all my days yet...has somehow inserted herself, after 10 years of blessed silence, thankful disinterest and one marriage--back into my field of vision.

taking a cue from radness i will now refer to this girl as Her. or She.


She. She is nothing to me now. the things She says and pleads are the same things which crawled from Her ten years ago. methinks She's stagnant, still, stationary, marking time, running in place.

Her voice on the phone, states and cultures and levels of maturity away, sounds the same as last decade. i cringe, revisiting those memories and fractured, impossible moments.

"we were so fortunate to have dodged that bullet," the voices in my head say. i tend to agree with them.

how is it then, amid this contempt and indifference and lingering horror at the way She swallowed my soul, that She pervades my thoughts now that She's invaded my reality once again?

fuck Her.

plus, i like sushi and i think i'll get some right frickin' now.




-pb

book: on the road, jack kerouac
music: gillian welch