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I was so miserable and frustrated that I broke into tears, in a huge crowd of costumed idiots. It must have blended with the fake blood pouring out of my eyes ala johnny depp (not nearly so attractive, though). My two frustrations stood aside- the one who had cried to me before, and the one who wears a happy face to the world in the midst of the worst crisis. Sven, by my side, played parent in a way that I think he has only become capable of by force of knowing me. On the muni some drunk guy in business attire, and a scabbed bottom lip, tried to compliment me on my costume and get me to go on a date with him. "I'll take care of you" he said, in the voice of a drunk who's practiced in sounding sober. Newest boy must have called a thousand times last night trying to figure out how we could meet. Last thing I told him was "well, you can come over but I won't necessarily be awake". I fell asleep to the sounds of sex next door. Dreams of struggles, waking up sweating. Memory of being the disadvantaged one, smaller, but managing to stay in the game. Raking keys over his neck until the kiss of resolution. Something about how we could end the fight with the kiss even though tim armstrong wasn't there to throw his hat on the floor. That brings me to freezing fingers, a kitten on my lap, and the amazingly gross taste of the bottled frappucino my guests brought me last night. Hopefully they have better taste in wine, breakfast of champions.
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