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omnia_mutanturit was a very nice birthday.
and i tried to write a narrative post about it, since i feel like narrative's slipping away from me these days, but i couldn't quite seem to pull it off. i hate being this fragile on mondays. but at least the day's going quickly, because work's sucking so amazingly hard. purple and white irises and purple and white tulips, and the satisfaction of giving him a fullbody massage with heated lotion that left him near comatose. a friend on puzzlepirates giving me a sloop for my birthday. light's hands on my face gentling me, reminding me not everything has to be fast and hard and gotten before it's lost to me. gift certificates from my continuingly obsequious mother, old navy and b&n, and i feel like i should find an independent bookstore to frequent, but the big chairs and the 10% discount make me a traitor, and i try to balance my spending there with my spending at raven.
mumbling "your people are asleep, baby" at my cat, and realizing i really meant it, i consider light just as much her person as i consider myself, almond and raspberry wheat pancakes at sylvesters, haymarket with Becoming, and wondering if i could do what she has. i don't think i could, and i'm afraid to think about it. i don't think i have that force of will, that amount of drive. and she's got so much selfconfidence and it's wicked hot, and why do the women i can't sleep with say they will, or they would have? but she told me she'll send me weekly reminders of how cool it is that i've stopped smoking, and she gave me wittgenstein's poker.
Big Fish making me cry against my will, hating to think about reconciliation, hating to think about having to accept that there will never be a one true story. and later, sobbing hysterically but silently into his lap at the restaurant, the overcrowding, and the exhaustion and the low bloodsugar and the decisionmaking, and he takes me home, and for my birthday dinner, we eat garlic and pineapple wheat crust pizza from Pizza Factory out of the box, naked and in my bed, chocolate covered cranberries and happy bunny socks from Wary, and we head to the hottubs, and then home, eating icecream out of the carton, leftover mintchocolatechip for me from History's and my dinner, PhishFood frozen yogurt for him.
lazy days in mornings in bed, and i hope i never grow tired of them and indulgent books at B&N (Blue Sword, Hero&the Crown, Mulengro, The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, Mulengro and Wild Ginger), home to cuddle next to him as he builds the legos he got me, and i instantmessage Junkyard and play puzzlepirates. Cuddling and thai food, and he's probably going to make me a mostly vegetarian, which means i'll have to keep on the iron pills, and he leaves and i fall asleep, staring at the silver tree he got me, tracing its lines with my eyes, and wondering if i could tattoo it on some part of my body.
and i tried to write a narrative post about it, since i feel like narrative's slipping away from me these days, but i couldn't quite seem to pull it off. i hate being this fragile on mondays. but at least the day's going quickly, because work's sucking so amazingly hard. purple and white irises and purple and white tulips, and the satisfaction of giving him a fullbody massage with heated lotion that left him near comatose. a friend on puzzlepirates giving me a sloop for my birthday. light's hands on my face gentling me, reminding me not everything has to be fast and hard and gotten before it's lost to me. gift certificates from my continuingly obsequious mother, old navy and b&n, and i feel like i should find an independent bookstore to frequent, but the big chairs and the 10% discount make me a traitor, and i try to balance my spending there with my spending at raven.
mumbling "your people are asleep, baby" at my cat, and realizing i really meant it, i consider light just as much her person as i consider myself, almond and raspberry wheat pancakes at sylvesters, haymarket with Becoming, and wondering if i could do what she has. i don't think i could, and i'm afraid to think about it. i don't think i have that force of will, that amount of drive. and she's got so much selfconfidence and it's wicked hot, and why do the women i can't sleep with say they will, or they would have? but she told me she'll send me weekly reminders of how cool it is that i've stopped smoking, and she gave me wittgenstein's poker.
Big Fish making me cry against my will, hating to think about reconciliation, hating to think about having to accept that there will never be a one true story. and later, sobbing hysterically but silently into his lap at the restaurant, the overcrowding, and the exhaustion and the low bloodsugar and the decisionmaking, and he takes me home, and for my birthday dinner, we eat garlic and pineapple wheat crust pizza from Pizza Factory out of the box, naked and in my bed, chocolate covered cranberries and happy bunny socks from Wary, and we head to the hottubs, and then home, eating icecream out of the carton, leftover mintchocolatechip for me from History's and my dinner, PhishFood frozen yogurt for him.
lazy days in mornings in bed, and i hope i never grow tired of them and indulgent books at B&N (Blue Sword, Hero&the Crown, Mulengro, The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, Mulengro and Wild Ginger), home to cuddle next to him as he builds the legos he got me, and i instantmessage Junkyard and play puzzlepirates. Cuddling and thai food, and he's probably going to make me a mostly vegetarian, which means i'll have to keep on the iron pills, and he leaves and i fall asleep, staring at the silver tree he got me, tracing its lines with my eyes, and wondering if i could tattoo it on some part of my body.
