wandering through a sunny sunday, i decided that 'please' is the sexiest word in the english language. the way one's mouth has to move to form it, the vulnerability it offers... obviously, context like 'please fuck off'' or 'please get your fat ass out of my bed' notwithstanding. the lyrics of 'i'm your man' are perhaps the most alluring example. that whole song... sheesh... first time i heard it i was about 13, in my friend's parent's chevy suburban, and i wanted very much to have someone howl at my beauty like a dog in heat.
walked downtown, through crowds of sunburned shoulders and fannypacked tourists. watched a girl tap dance outside the market. watched someone else taking a picture of a lipringed woman glaring into space at the fruit/ristra booth- a gorgeous onslaught of color, and surely one that will be passed around the picture-takers' hometown as the Quintessential Seattle Photograph. sampled an elixir of orange, pineapple, rosemary and sage and was told by its creator, an intense-eyed man, that i must be healthy because i can 'taste the kick.' went into the listening booth in the subterranean vinyl shop (entrance off a reeking alley) and blared 'la rossa.' thought about spenard. listened to a woman from iowa shrilly berate her spouse for missing the bus stop to their hotel. walked around upper queen anne, past homes selling for $597k- read a story in this morning's paper that to qualify for a 30-year, 20% mortgage in queen anne, one must have an income of at least $120k. feel like a fucking imposter for soon living there again. sprawled on a lawn beside a building with "danger! hydrochloric acid!" signs affixed to it, the lawn covered with tiny daisies, and wrote in my journal, covered with aphids by the time i stood up. on the bus back to my current lair i sat behind a man who loudly counseled another guy on how to remain sober.
i do nothing but walk, watch, and listen. or so it seems.
with all this valuable (i guess) Me Time, i came to this realization in my journal: "i want a man who is self-destructive and self-aware. i want him to call me hideously inebriated in the middle of the night and tell me that he needs me. i want to be the one who tells HIM 'it's going to be okay.'"
:a lack of personal restraint. does that make me a sadist or a masochist?
why am i even fucking admitting this?
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