PICS
Last night I heard from my agent. MY AGENT, it feels so good to say that. She’s very interested in Bound To Die Young, a semi-autobiographical novel, which I am sending to her once she has returned from Germany.
This is something else I’m working on, Boys Town. It’s semi-autobiographical, too, whatever the hell that means. Its fiction. No it’s not.
(November. It May Never Go Away)
It’s so cold that friends I know with nowhere else to go are trying to get arrested. It’s not that hard. Beet-faced cops are jolly to help out. Lately they’ve been hounding a few kids hanging out at ‘punkin doughnuts’ in front of the Alley.
Jack calls it the old nightstick oppression.
Tonight we can’t go back to my place. My sister has banned Jack from our home because he has pneumonia. He is yellow, as if dusted by a fine layer of pollen. He doesn’t want to stay at the shelter. He says there’s an outbreak of scabies. We could spend the night at the flower shop where I work but it has roaches and Sara, this freckled faced Australian lady I work for, just sighs when I bring it up.
“What can ya do? It’s Chi-Town, it’s a filthy city.”
Filth normally begins with laziness but I leave it alone.
I don’t want to be without Jack. He is all I know of love. He makes me feel safe. He smells like the sun because it has been his only shelter for so long.
I make five dollars an hour. Its 1996, that’s minimum wage. I have my way of making ends meet. Eventually the day will come when I leave for my lunch break and never return. I’ll pretend I’m still working. I’ll lie to my sister and spend eight hours a day at a coffee shop pressing my fingers against sticky sugar stains on a warn wooden table, waiting until the lie is over. It never is. Eventually I’ll shed of any hope until I’m living like Jack, with no where to sleep. With insomnia anyway. With antidepressants clogging my blood because therapists keep their advice in a bottle now.
Fuck. It’s cold.
I’d kill to be able to switch over to a dream therapist. I’d kill to be able to dream.
"gonna live forever.........."
DEC 14, 2005 12:59 PM
Few thoughts:
1) your writing..is genuinely good. I dont mean that in a dismissive way. A lot of people think chucking in some flashy words constitutes becoming a good writer but your writing was convincing. I like the little flourish "because therapists..", that was the equivilant of a nice little guitar-riff. Turn it into a screenplay, make it into a film, stick an Interpol song on the soundtrack and credit me in the film credits. Deal?
2) People will surely be distracted that you mentioned you were reading naked.. 
3) Do friends try and get you to base characters around them...?
DEC 14, 2005 11:47 PM
I love your writings my dear. Really. They're wonderful.
Your rump is looking lightly toasted, yes. How bitchy of me to produce a warm and toasty image in this Arctic climate, eh?
Well you can definitely be of any help if you just kept your ears cracked is all. It's not for a while anyway but you never know what comes up or what you hear! 
I'm excited at the thought! 
And I'm comin' soon! 
Yeesh, finally. 
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