we jumped into the van at 14th and, hollering and hugging, immediately had drink poured down our throats and pills pressed onto our tongues as the vehicle pulled side to side around streetcorners. and then in a small alleyway in almost-south-philly we dragged bicycles from off the top of the car, and we rode through the night to the water's edge. to shove one another and climb on things, throw things, push into things. i rode up and down the pathway with jessie and dished alittle. its beautiful but my fingers itch for saturday and i want to fall asleep to make the morning come faster, which eventually happens, but not until 5. and the hours hurry by then, and suddenly its the afternoon, and even more suddenly i am sitting in the back of the truck drinking champagne and watching car crashes and even more sudddenly than that except not exactly suddenly we're hiding in boxes and we've got glass shards in our elbows and hair and its not so surprising really
i have half a black eye, and its luke's fault, i mean my own fault. i have a prison style tattoo of a paper airplane on my wrist and its peter corrie's fault, i mean my own fault, i think. i have a bright blinding daylightfaced mania over the future and its everyone's fault and i mean it this time. dear this weekend: + + + + +. sincerely, anda L.
yours, amanda L. at 11:38 PM [+]
| |
1. i'm trying Haloscan.
2. and i want to marry Blogger.
anda gail lewis 2005. stop crying every day.
