i have searched for all your fragrance in the silent dark. is that okay?

a trip roundtrip by train, and everything's changed.

this weekend was the best i've had yet since my arrival. saturday my partner-in-crime was in town, and we + others hopped from bar to bar after 3pm. drunk in daylight is one of my favorite past times. best friends need to visit every weekend. we danced unaccompanied, and dances were made up and performed. we don't really dance for real anymore, it's more like making fun of dancing for the entertainment of ourselves and others. mock dancing, it's our new wave.

i threw up vodka and tequila and salad sunday before i left. i could barely rise from the cold of the bathroom floor. on the way to the flatbush station, the driver asked me if i smoked REEFER [imagine indian accent]. i sat on the high story of the double-decker, reflecting on the narrative i'm cooking up about reflections off objects that pose as mirrors and what it's like when you're so familiar with a living space that you know all its sounds, its growth and sinking, footsteps in the stairwell, in the hallway, in the kitchen. and what you may have learned from all of these. what have you learned? in the reflection off the train window, i saw a hippie woman's nipple after her not-feeding-just-sucking daughter removed her mouth. i visited long island for the first time. after sushi, my fortune read something like today will be better than yesterday. i regret not keeping it. the early commuters couldn't have been more dissimilar from me, from me that at that very moment. i wanted to let them know. i was scolded for talking on the phone, but i could barely keep my mouth shut.

my friends are the best in the world, and i'm falling somewhere. severely.