high and tight

i am fucking freaked out.
some things are too personal to even get into.
i have ordered a glass of wine. this is officially my first entry written whilst drinking alcohol. i am 1/2" into the glass. it is tasty. the girl at the counter struggled mightily with the cork. i wanted to snatch the bottle away and do it myself.
i keep my oeuvre so debilitatingly finite. what i want right now: to meet someone vivacious and happy and articulate and alive, to feel our skin touch, to feel home. i was looking out the grimy bus window as it inched through the u-district today, and in a patch of sunny grass right next to the sidewalk a couple was laying in an entangled embrace, his leg over hers, both of their faces obscured. i stared openly because obviously, they were too occupied to be offended. and i thought "i have done that. i have been that girl." and i was fucking smug as shit even as it was happening. at least i appreciated the rarity of such moments.
this has been a good day overall. crackers dipped in sorbet. the issaquah library. $1.99 clearance cordoroys. a free energy drink handed out by corporate shills. new magazines. lawns laden with flowers. timing everything perfectly without intending to. hwy 99 in sunset languor, white light/white heat very loud. uwajimaya. the dentist office: "Fiddler on the Tooth." (BEST. DENTAL OFFICE. NAME. EVER.) the carefully coiffed boy with the "don't fuck my butt" t-shirt, and the smirk it still induces as i type it seven hours later.
yesterday i passed a bus shelter at 92nd and sandpoint, painted by schoolchildren. on the north side is an absolutely maniacal portrait of george washington. i laughed audibly when i saw it. i often wish i had some camera-apparatus that could capture such glories. there are so many pockets of weirdness here, everywhere, things one must stumble upon by pure chance. like the 10+ pairs of shoes tossed over a wire on a random residential street in tacoma (discovered whilst making a let-me-finish-my-cigarette detour en route to the 7-11 on a taquito run for my white-trash coworkers). or coming home earlier this evening to a FUCKING ENORMOUS FIBERGLASS PIG sitting in front of my kitchen window. with a blue sheet draped over its back. what the fuck? why is there a huge fiberglass pig in front of my apartment? (the thing comes up to my tits. it's large.) is there going to be a pig-themed soiree in the building? is it all in my head? will its eyes glow outside my bedroom window in the dead of night?
(i fucking hate bruce springsteen. 'pink cadillac', quite possibly the worst song ever created, is playing. guys seem to like springsteen. they can "relate". yes, to my chagrin, i will sing along to 'i'm on fire.' but everything else, no. and this song in particular, all one-note of it, is the shit of karaoke purgatory.)
or the "inFARMation" hotline sign alongside i-5 in skagit county.
i am running out of wit. or i ran out a while ago and am only just becoming aware of it.