This weekend I’m going to Townsville for 3 days. Next week my friend is here from Montreal. The week after that, I’m off to Melbourne for 4 days. I get back to Sydney on the Sunday, fly back on down on the Thursday and then road trip to Merimbula, stay for the week then drive back to Sydney.
What the actual fuck. 10 weeks ago, I had no plans.
movie theaters are actually really cute like a bunch of strangers come together to watch a movie together with snacks and candy and laughing and crying aw good job movie theaters i see what you did there
Late night conversations with my ex Paddy. We broke up almost two years ago now and we went through a lot, but we still get on so well. We just chatted for an hour about everything, laughing our asses off the whole time. It’s funny, we were reliving some classic moments — one being the time he left me a ready made pizza in the fridge whilst he went to work. All I had to do was put it in the oven. I burnt it. I burnt it so good he had to bring me home food. Classic Sam.
Last night at dinner, Jack and I were all over each other as usual. We were talking about how screwed we were considering how into each other we are. Then he mentioned something, he said I was a game changer. I think that’s one of the coolest things anyone has ever said to me. I’m in big trouble now. All in. Definitely all in.
“I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.”—An Almost Made Up Poem - Charles Bukowski