Monday Night = Alright.
the hash arrived from amsterdam today, wrapped in a blanket of vinyl fetish fisting porn.
my housemates really accept me. it’s a nice feeling.

I walked home from the bus today, bummin’.
listening to melancholy music on my md.

thinking to myself about Mondays.
when hugo is usually over.
this Monday I don’t have to think about
what I might cook us for dinner.

I don’t have much of an appetite at all.
or at least I didn’t today.

and I was thinking, with just me again, my grocery bills will
go down again!

(go. down..)

so I thought, mac and cheese? ramen noodles with tofu and miso paste?
nachos?

with these thoughts in mind
singing plaintively along with the only stevie
nicks song I can stand
I walk through the open door of my house
where the tv is on, people abound
I am being passed a freshly lit joint.
everyone is smiling at me.

my housemate who sent me (from amsterdam) me my standard european requests:

euro-porn with fetish and anal penetration
hash
apple mentos

said, Maybe you should go look in your room.

So I open the door to my room and there on my bed is a flat brown paper bag.
within it, a copy of lady anita f. the international unlimited bizarre magazine.
on the cover it has a label: Warning: Extremely Nasty.

And it is. Coupled with the newest, freshest issue of Tight,
a new eighth, a newly rearranged room, a busy work schedule,
a girlfriend asleep in my bed, and a tummy full from
spaghetti
garlic bread
strawberries soaked in peppermint schnapps
red wine
margarita
10 kinds of shake joint with 3 kinds Amsterdam hash,
I am not complaining at this moment about my life.

I try not to think about him, where he is right now, what he’s doing.

I know I’ll feel worse eventually.
I know we’ll still fight
I know there’s more crying to come.

Some force is devouring me from the inside out.
Taking over the controls of my consciousness.
internal impetus propelling me forward.
like I don’t even have a choice now.

Object in Motion.