Saturday, August 7, 2010

The most important parts are the parts you loved.

Those emails you exchanged with an 'electronic-lithograph' when you were barely 18.


He said when his girlfriend left the room, he would inspect the beds, and there would be these brown ... signs.

Roll eyes and proceed. Try not to get your woman to crap all over, eh?

Remember sleeping with you, and I was stupid because I did not take advantage of you.


The other part I really loved was me and her, walking up a street in Chinatown. She sees a kid drop a toy, or puffy item or something. She immediately goes and picks it up. (I am following her, amazed).

We reach these people with their dropping child and gormless gait -- and she quietly gives the baby his toy.

The child looks back and totally incinerates her kindliness. Like, "Why the fuck are you holding my toy?" Like Damien, from the Omen.

The parents see what has transpired, and they choose not to acknowledge. They just walk on.

I pull her back, and inform her of her miracle. How amazing she is. How beautiful and totally ... total she is. She is was total between Mott St. and Canal.


This is condensed.

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