because i was two hours ago and we seem to be going round or possibly making this habit or of course maybe it's that the only way to travel, the only way to get myself on that plane and go willingly more or less into the nexus of my distress is to be hungover and eating hash browns.
because there is nothing like being horrifically drunk on jameson and ginger soda with friends you can be an asshole with and who will put you to bed so you can get a two-hour nap before driving in the rain to the airport, and my god, everywhere i go these days i am afraid i will see someone i know. this town is getting too small for the both of us, you know. in my head we agreed to me on the east side and you the west but i don't trust you that much, i just can't, you've got all that fame and fortune now and has it gotten into your brain yet, have you become what you hate? or maybe i am seeing shadows from a past life, shadows of the dead, my own dead face mirrored back at me in the glare of the sun, in these long dawn shadows that make my step unsteady and half-dead.
well. it's eight days starting now. i have the appropriate pills and aloofness, i have the appropriate excuses. i am properly coldhearted.
do not tell me i have a body. i am trying to maintain the illusion.
shall we just pretend, then? ignore my anger and my spiteful jabbing words, shall we pretend i had too much sugar or pills or caffeine or what have you, ignore my disjointedness? it's what we're best at, you know. you and your booze, the way you see right through me, all our west coast secrets illuminated by this harsh southern sun. i won't tell if you won't tell but you know i have more to lose.
i am full of lies and half-truths that tumble out together because i cannot bear that quiet look you give me across the table. you know it but it's the only way i can keep you guessing. shall we never admit that we live in different realms though we were born kin? almost-brother and yet i was raised in a house of secrecy that even you cannot penetrate.
at least you can look at me and feel all right with your mild malaise. i am useful for comparisons. i am useful in being the one worse off, the rogue, the hopeless one. and there is that, i guess.
