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jane
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my dear bus-wolf,
i'm sitting here, typing with one hand because the other is icing an ear attempting to swell...last night thinking i would save money, i jabbed a safety pin through it to make a fourth hole in my right ear. it took awhile to puncture out the back, & i think this is why it's been red & swollen. now most people don't get a phone call from the person they're going to live with saying they're getting back together with their gorgeous filipino ex girlfriend & then decide to shove a safety pin through their ear (not the first time, either). can't tell you why this seemed like a good idea. the ice is almost melted, but the heat still throbs through my earlobe like my angry blood pumps through my ventricles & capillaries. but my hands are dry with southwestern dust, & the sun has baked my hair one step closer to my natural color.
wrote a poem the other day, i think it's my best so far. i'll send it to you in a different email - don't want it shoved in with inane ramblings, you know. i've been drawing more - tried another self portrait & all the while thought myself conceited. who would call kahlo conceited, but she did mostly self-portraits. i admired her ability to look herself in the face, & i drew a picture of my back. & last night, there i was, thinking about the boys & girls that have peppered my life, & going back to some of them while leaving some behind - always. & i was thinking about you, & how you wrote on that index card i still have, tucked in the cover of my notebook. thinking about how you don't do long distance, & how maybe you were just going to let me decrescendo out of your life like so many do. imagine my surprise when i get not one but two letters from you, both beautiful in their own way like i remember sitting across the table from you, looking down & around because i was so scared of what you might be able to read from my face. & your ability to document. i'm also afraid of the chemicals cruising my veins. five pills a day now, for a girl who refused antihistamines or tylenol for simple saviors. five pills, but most of them biological. theres one for skin, one for stomach, one to prevent children from growing in my womb, one to sleep, and one for happiness. sounds so simple condensed into a singular sentence. i thought i had lost my ability to cry until yesterday. thought i had lost my ability to feel until i thought of piercing through my lobe.
your story warmed me with your feeling of alienation ironically. in a way i found myself connecting to the idea of feeling alone, wanting to leave, even from parties and bars. change is the only constant in the universe, & how else to epitomize this but bar-hopping. fight club's single servings hold nothing to single serving bar conversations. some of the most interesting people i've met were at bars, & i suppose that's why i wanted to go home with them, because i didn't want the night or the conversation to end, & i wanted to keep a piece of them to myself. now, with my memory fading, i realize the inevitability of forgetfulness. they don't remember me anyway. what i do remember are moments where nothing was said, where maybe you handed me something with so much trust, even though we should have felt like strangers. from the moment i began eavesdropping on your advice to jim, i felt like i knew you, or that i wanted to know you. so there that is.
i looked at the pictures from the link you sent me, & thought my favorite set would be from vasmay, because it felt like home a little, when my apartment was rejecting & cold. but my favorites ended up being the a50s. & that one of you, of course. good to see your face again, when you're so distant. i always hated it when people said, "don't be a stranger." i'm not saying that. i'm saying....don't exhale me away; i'll bloom for you.
lauren
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050522
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