do sneak cigarettes late at night

they pulled my hair at charm school.

they stole my guestbook during rolecall.

given up the ghost that haunts your family + 2004-08-15 = 6:01 p.m.

+

Hot muggy city. Subway smells like Maybelline make-up in the early morning. Late nights are for taxicabs, bars with no names & men making kissing noises at the back of my head. Eat dinners in outdoor courtyards on mismatched china. Climb skinny unstable ladders to rooftops of apartments belonging to old friends. No new friends yet - so I read. Carry around The Lover (the gold lame' shoes, the old silk dress), Mary McCarthy's Intellectual Memoirs, The Tipping Point (given to me by new bosses so that I may understand the genius of trends).

In Manhattan at American Apparel I am offered a free Pabst at time of sale. Ben and I search out Dish on Allen St so that we can choose a crazy concoction from their extensive cocktail menu, but when we get there the waitresses are drinking wine with the cooks.

Everything is so compressed and happening quickly. A few very bad days where everything tastes bad, smells awful & brings me to the brink of tears. One rainy Wednesday night I have a hard time admitting I can't parallel park in the city. Parking garages = $big bank$. Yesterday on E 11th St I sit on stoop of some stranger's brownstone crying into my arms. Certain bars yield gigantic water bugs scurrying along the walls. Songs on Ben's new EP still fuck with me (in a good way) even though their electronic backbone has been altered slightly.

Tomorrow night = festive work event on West 26th St. I will air kiss anyone who dares to show up and introduce themselves...

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ghosts!