mei

i watched a woman today as she walked to the bus stop. her lank ashy hair barely fluttered as the cars drove by. she was one of those people that look like they might or might not be pregnant. grey and sackish, her tank top clung to her shoulders. i watched her mouth move, and the young student to whom she spoke checked his watch, striking a male model pose with a hand on a hip as his head tipped. she nodded slightly, and scratched absently at her nipple. i don't understand that phenomenon. i've heard it in books before, but the idea of scratching absently at such a sensitive place is just foreign to me. like adjusting one's thong underwear, sometimes it happens, but it's always thoughtful, requiring a little bit of a look around to make sure nobody is watching. she looked at me, and stopped. her gaze was far more accusing than embarassed. she turned away, and her hand, looking like a huge disembodied spider, crawled up the side of her shirt to resume scratching. her bus came. she and the young student-type left. they didn't sit next to one another.

across the street, a cat tried to figure out the doorknob. it was a huge, black cat, and she stretched and batted at the door handle. she paced for a moment, but nobody came. a truck rumbled by, and she was gone.

i need to start moving my stuff away. borrow a pickup truck, bundle it all up in boxes. try to throw things away. so many things i have - and i don't need them. many of them i don't even like that much - but packrat me can't get rid of them.

i need to sleep, so i can get up early tomorrow. so the entry is cut off. sharp scissors, like at the fabric store. sharp enough that they don't have to close, they just slide like knives, making a soft szzzzzzzt noise instead of a repetitive snick, snick, snick.