Liability. Late night walks in the city lights. Late night cruising in humid air. Catcalls and cross arms and closed faces. Tortillas with peas and eggs and cheddar, stacks and stacks of Ritz. Banana pancake things in soft grey mornings. Jiggling jammed bike locks. Perfect, glowy skin save for a large and gently swelling pimple under the left nostril. Two hour conversations with HJ on a thin blanket, looking at the sky: “I like when you describe to me your people watching.” Slightly sore thighs. Daily morning crochet patterns pressed into the skin. Books in the grass and a breeze. “BUY ZHONGZI,” in a monotone whine on the corner of Christie and Hester. Soft wet hair and white eyes in a steamy mirror at 1am.
– exuberant bodies
This weekend, I had so many invitations I didn’t know what to do with them.
I’ve magically become friends with MC, and after meeting her friends for a weekend, I remember now what it’s like to have a group of people genuinely want to get to know you, who value you. I realize that perhaps although I don’t know for sure if they are my people — it’s only been one night — I enjoy time with them so much more than I do with my other friend group, or with AM’s friends, who somehow always leave me feeling inferior. With MC’s friends, I feel loved, accepted; I’m funny, smart, and fun.
Somehow, I’ve also become close with BI, who is quite close to an ideal person. I was surprised and pleased that he so clearly wanted to be friends.
It’s been a good semester of branching out, far more than I did last semester. And unlike freshman year, I think I’ve branched out into the correct crowd.
1/3/17, 11:35am, sitting on the beach a bit north of k–‘s place
nine pelicans in a row, doing a wave of sorts, movements starting from the first and rippling down to the last as each hits that break or lift in the wind. it’s cubism in nature: several instants, all at once; simultaneity of time. the last straggling pelican reminds me to be less pretentious.
rocky, gritty, breaking human voices over clean, clear, smoothness
Frank Ocean over and over and over and teary eyes and emotionsss at 1am
Living indeliberately and random interests. Scraping by on nuts and popcorn and prunes. Lonely dingle life. No conditioner.
(because I love snapshots and I haven’t done one in quite a while)
Sticky skin, sweat drops off of my chin, hair, nose. Sweat mustache. Praising the invention of the fan. Thick air. Alternating between the freezing AC and the boiling outdoors in 15 minute bursts.
Troye Sivan and Lion King loopers. Flippy purple-ish ponytails. Ironic humor. Armpit hair and leg hair and pubic hair and free the nipple and careless appearances and the obviousness need for feminism.
Melted dark chocolate Reeses. Takeout lunch on the dining hall steps and vicious squirrels. Moving the contents of my table onto my bed because of ants. Slipping in my wet flip flops. Teva sandals and online thrift shopping.
Late nights and jam sessions at the tRaP house, under the arch, in the dorm.