She came home from the grocery store, put her backpack and the rest of the on the linolium kitchen floor. She opened the fridge and sat in fornt of it on her knees.
They double the plastic bags when they pack the groceries in them for some reason.
Are the bags not produced for this purpose? Are they malmanufactured?
She took an outer layer plastic bag and started to clean the old food out: a bunch of dried jalopeno peppers inside one of the vegetable drawers, the piece of paper towel laying at the bottom of the drawer and crumbles of veggies on top of it; an empty jar of basil pesto, bad milk (she had to put the cheese-yogurt milk down the drain first); and two old lemons. Bag: full.
She put the bag in the trash can. She is all about recycling but not to the point where she has to wash smelly unrecognizable refrigerator residents off them.
She sat back in front of the refrigerator and unpacked the greens first. Green letucce, iceberg letucce, parsley, cilantro, thyme and leeks went on the bottom shelf above the drawers. Then came the roma tomatoes, grape tomatoes and carrots; thy went inside the drawers. A chicken, ground beef, milk, a jar of horseradish dip, butter, slices of turkey, smoked gouda and provolone, cream cheese with chives and finally coffe in a brown paper bag all found their places in there. Potatoes, garlic, onions, lemons and limes went in the basked on top of the fridge.
This feeeeels goooood.
And then she heard the faintest moaning, repeatedly, coming from a mouse stuck on a sticky trap, trying to get away. Oh BABY! He was as quiet as he could be.
She had stepped on that same trap twice by accident when drunk and it was a pain to get it out, both times.
She turned away, toured around the apartment twice. When she came back to check on the mouse, she still didn’t know what to do about the situation, but he was already gone.
It’s probably for the best.
Poor little sloth, thinking she isn’t wounded, not bleeding, not a sloth, making music not in her head and in her head only. She thinks every one else can hear the music. No way dude, it’s only you who can hear that.
Oh, how non-elevator kind that is.
silence x 2
The girl looks out the fire escape. A person with a shopping cart is hitting a chair back and forth on the dumpster straight ahead of her. She is sitting on the couch with the dog. It’s the chair that she took out earlier in the day with an electric grill and a slow cooker on top of it. The grill and the slow cooker got taken away within twenty minutes.
She is irritated by this unfamiliar person’s ferocious noise making activity. She feels threatened and moves away from the fire escape fast fast fast-but the door is still open. So now the dog wonders, what the hell is this noise. (Her comprehending is a little bit on the slow side.) She gets up and starts watching the banging on the dumpster person. The girl panics, because what if the dog gets shot in the head, so she says, “Come here, Nala. Come, Here. Right, Now.” The dog comes to her as commanded, and lies down.
The girl is curious. Very. She sneaks up fast fast fast and maneuvers to shut the door but leaves it ajar and spies on the banging on the dumpster person. Banging on the dumpster person looks high as shit. He is taking the chair apart in order to fit it in the shopping cart, but the cart is empty to begin with. And it’s late at night, he probably won’t be collecting much more, so why make all that sound? Then, she thinks, oh, this feels just like animal planet all over again, except, this time its not with rats, it’s with one of her own kind.
She steps back and sits back on the couch. She decides to watch a fake soap opera that takes place in an ikea store without the people in charge of the store having any idea-at all. It’s a new discovery, very exciting.
A few minutes in to the first episode, the dog climbs back up on the couch. She sits next to the girl. The girl grabs the dog’s elbow and massages it, then realizes how flexible the skin around the elbow is.
She says, (Not-out-loud) “Oh, this is why we have a special bond, Nala. It’s because we both have flexible skin around the elbow area. We are of the same kind.”
They both hear the banging on the dumpster person roll away with his shopping cart and the dog climbs back down the couch and sleeps on the floor.
Time to drink some orange juice.
Where should I go? Where should I go?? I am totally lost. Crap… I have to get rid of these fucking eggs right now. Fuck me, what am I doing here, I don’t even know what this place is. Shit. Shit. Shit. Merde…
A very confused moth lays her eggs, somewhere she will never be able to come back to, because she won’t remember the exact spot. It is very dark and everything looks the same anyway. She doesn’t remember who the father was anyway.
She sneaks out, not to come back.
The young boy who lives by himself and barely leaves his apartment except for groceries, beers and cigarettes gets out of shower at midnight, he turns Gloria Gaynor on high and sits on his bed. He smokes but makes sure that he never smells like an ashtray. He also likes to cover his entire body with cocoa butter. He’s been loyal to this brand of lotion for the past four years, but recently, he found this new almond cream which has a thicker texture and a more intense aroma, that he started to use on his feet, knees and elbows. He smirks at the smoothness of his knee caps.
He goes back into the bathroom. One minute, the room is still, the next, when the lights are turned on, the spotless white walls and celilings are covered with brown wings. Hundreds of non-butterfly beings are worshipping the light for the first time in their lives by winging at it.
It’s blinding for both the newborns and the boy-it’s an explosion of life. Life emerges from all the holes and cracks. Except, there are no holes and cracks here and yet, it’s still happening. It’s a moment to share.
The boy doesn’t have anyone but the moths to share this moment with.
It was a summer night. Two boys in their early twenties with baseball hats were walking down a Baltimore alley while a girl wearing an off white crocheted blouse and tiny white shorts was sitting on her fire escape. There were baby tomato plants hanging off the side of the fire escape. She was singing along to a song about a rainy morning in Istanbul. It was a sad song. Thinking of you with songs will not bring you to me, it said, and she sang along.
The boys took little spray paint bottles out of their pockets and started tagging all over the dumpster. They often stopped to look around, suspicious of anyone spotting them. They were quick. They wanted to get out of there fast.
Boy number one was done and was leaving, he looked up and got a glimpse of the girl on the fire escape. The other boy was working on tagging a tall piece of polished plywood. A beautiful shiny piece of wood and grey spray paint on it. The girl on the fire escape had left that out there, it used to be her desk.
Boy number one took another glance up in the girl’s direction. She was smiling and waving at him. He liked it.
Boy number two got done with the plywood and he took a glance up in the girl’s direction as well. She was still smiling. He liked it too.
They didn’t say anything to each other.
Remember when I told you about people hiring architects to design their interiors?
Good thing you just texted me, I fell asleep.
I found some Facebook pictures of someone in my family visiting another one. The one being visited has a designed house. I have to show them to you.
Sick. You can’t send them through our super technology things.
No, I can’t.
When do you want to get this drink? I just woke up and it’s all dark out and I’m confused.
Oh, I’m so sorry, that’s the worst feeling.
Although it’s been super dark for the whole day..
Rather excited to try again tomorrow.
But there was a happy ending.
Yes, it was stunning.
That’s the best part about gloomy summer days. There is always a happy ending.
It was a spectacular light as I fell asleep, so pink.
Korean good is tasty
korean food is tasty
Poor boy is stoned
stones are tasty
time is struggling
Whose ass is this? Oh, is this David?
Of course it’s David.
Of course it’s David’s ass. I guess it’s a pretty well known one.
Studies I have been running in my apartment for over a year prove that Michaelangelo’s David has the world’s fastest recognizable and tightest ass. Find a picture of the sculpture, cut the ass part out and pin it up on a wall. It’s amazing that not one person fails to recognize where it belongs. Plus, it’s a conversation starter.
The world’s most famous ass is in marble, not in flesh. JLo’s can’t even come close.