We interrupt this program

#12: You can tell yourself that 365 somethings will happen.

You can swear against the interruptus that is; hold yourself accountable for future somethings, and nothings, and everythings. In fact, I encourage it. I’ve always had a thing for failure.

For once, I’m just glad my excuse is that I have been living.

Between us chickens, the actual pursuit of life is heady, man. Real heady.

We need glitter bombs and hips

#5: I swear on this, no matter how extensive my current musical elitism:

I saw ‘NSync in concert when I was 15, and when the lighting went crazy, and the girlish pubescence swelled into a frenzy, and JC Chasez (the specter of my wet dreams) threw a janky towel in my direction, I swear–that I had peaked. My heart knew it. My body buzzed with approval.

For a few seconds, I had a lived a fulfilled life.


And later, if a person is wrong about that feeling, after they’ve witnessed the scope of a messy, unpredictable, human existence, I wouldn’t sweat it. Our instinct shouldn’t be to diminish the past in the presence of knowledge or foresight.

One should feel so sure about a moment at least once.

Un peu grande vérité

#2: I miss you, too.

You close your eyes when you laugh. For brief moments, you lean and hunch your shoulders; your arms cross. Your body is so beautifully overwhelmed with life, that it becomes concave. As if its natural response is to contain the expulsion. But why?

A laugh from you is joyful disintegration.

Here’s the thing–

–I’m trying out this new concept based on what we talked about. It’s a little strange. Perhaps, it’s a little too radical for me and the good ole buckle. But today, as I drove from uptown to downtown and back again, I thought about the way honesty fits my skin now and how much I like it–as if my shallow layers have been sloughed off by the old Brillo pads my Mom keeps under the kitchen sink.

Tonight, babe: I’m shiny. I wrote this uninhibited and I’m unveiling all my parts. Tick, tick.

In my brain and at my lips, the mot du jour is revelation.

Or perhaps it’s timing, and in this case, the saltier end. It’s salty when the situation or circumstances aren’t quite right, but they should be. They could. If timing were in our favor, if distance, if parts of you weren’t still bruised, I’d take you out real nice. I would. Because you’re the type that deserves to be woo’d, too, once in a while. You’re worth the Stop-n-Shop flowers AND the pricey teacup dessert. (No, no, I’ll open the door for you.) And when we’re done, let me whisper them smooth jazz words like, “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I’m driving tonight. All night.”

And while I’m dreaming right now in my head, there’s the two of us and the moon–and we like the moon, don’t we? We admire the illumination when we can, but love feeling lost in the places where the beams don’t touch our feet. The moon could help us lose ourselves in an embrace, like that one night.

(You know the night. I do.)

Tonight, they’re strong again, if you’re curious. Diana, the Amazonian Princess, has got nothing on my shit.

Here’s another thing: my feelings oscillate between knowing too little about them and knowing enough to turn away. If you want a transparent answer, I just don’t have it for you right now. But I want to, babe. Honestly, I really do. I don’t know the spectrum of my colors quite yet. For you, my soft parts are less shades of gray and more purple. But tonight, those colors are getting close to what moves through our veins. You know, I think there’s a palette underneath my ribs. I think I’m trying spread out and reach something, reach you, but my hands aren’t deft enough to paint the scene quite yet. For now, that’s okay.

I realize that there’s no feasibility in the distance, or in the way your heart feels right now (how wrenching it open again ain’t worth the sweat and the mess. Them heart guts suck). And me, I can’t seem to massage mine open in a way that hurts the least.

I guess, what’s I’m really asking… what’s hanging on the precipice of this undefined situation, is for a chance to get to know you. For me to be able to show you my shiny parts because the alternative doesn’t suit either one of us.

And for tonight, and maybe the next night, and the night after that–

I want to have you.