One Month

One month. Barely, in fact. I knew him for one month and somehow that short amount of time managed to impress me in such a way that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wasn’t in love with him; by no means. It was just the fluidity of his lifestyle. He had no strings, nothing to connect him to anything in the world. All he had was his dog and his bike. Something about that was intriguing. Maybe because it was what I wanted myself.

You know how someone can pass through your life, for a short amount of time yet make such a big impression? That’s what happened. All I had with him were a few nights in the kitchen sipping wine, in the dark, with only a strand of Christmas tree lights blinking along a wall. A few nights curled up on the futon, pretending to watch movies. Chain-smoking on the back patio. And the next thing I knew, I was writing a novel about him.

Stoned

Sascha:
Can i borrow your camera for a few days?

Me:
Sure. which one? Digital or SLR?
I have a roll of b&w currently loaded in the SLR.
I can use it up tonite or you can finish it up if you want.

Sascha:
I think digitial will be good. I'm 2 dumb for SLR.

Me:
Cool.
You are too dumb.

Sascha:
Question... What would be the 'correct' level of dumb?
Please advise

Me:
Stoned.

Sascha:
Goddamnit, I thought at first that it wasn't an answer to my question but
you telling me arbitrarily that you were stoned with just that word.
I nearly peed myself.

(Later)

Me:
I was.

Mayhem

Me:
I just had the best idea in the world! When you come back, let's go around and take pictures of strange things, or maybe just ridiculously banal things, like people's houses, or windows, or their welcome mats, or maybe their cats and then let's get them developed and put them in their mailboxes!!!

Sascha:
Ok, see you at the police station.

Diesel Books Reading

Me:
P.S- Sascha, can I get a ride back with you, afterwards?

Sascha:
Yes, you can get a ride back with me in my car that you broke the window of.

Erin (2)

Erin’s ass was the topic of conversation
One     long     night
To her bow the Orange Blossoms
and to her the Ketchup Blossoms

In my hair
          as I left the next morning
                    a Jaded Rose

Erin (1)

“I never held Erin in my arms,” he says
“I never held her in my arms-”
And yet
No regret
About me and my wit
Or me and my charms
“I think you’re really pretty,” he says