Blizzard Buzz

Thank god we get to pick what ad we watch on TV now! What ever happened to real TV Dinners?!!!!

Averyl’s muttering Blackbird to herself for no reason. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see….Blackbird fly / Blackbird fly….well actually there is a reason; we sit next to each other at work so you can infer why.

I’m drawing hearts in the margins of my purple notebook as I sit in class. The notebook was free, the hearts sprouted from the complete novels of Jane Austen. I’m drawing the same god awfully uneven hearts I did when I was seven, and, ten, and, thirteen, and sixteen, and nineteen, only it’s a different book, a different classroom, a different mercury in retrograde, but same old doodling that’s impossible to shake during focus. The ingrained muscle memory of the hand and pen marriage haunts us like the scars our skin has repaired itself around. Or I reckon I’m just really easily distracted.

Charli xcx says she’s seeing things that are not there. But you know the absent summer light reflecting above your desk is not an illusion; just because you can’t see something it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

Sometimes the train is so quiet you can hear the sound of someone else’s thought loop and that’s unnerving enough to make you change cars or wait for another train or maybe just walk.

There’s something about a stinky train that just boils my blood, bursts my bubble, the absolute opposite of tickling my fancy but then you’ll see an older man stumbling on the platform as the train pulls into the station and he’s mumbling about Jesus. I wonder when they’ll tell him the news.

I ran up the escalator on the left as it goes and a man on my right (left to pass, right to pause), imitated the clank of MY heels, turning his body to face a mere passerby like me running up the stairs, yelling CLONK CLONK in my face as I swooshed past or I guess clanked past. I laughed all the way to work, on the 6 (my next train), up the subway stairs and the walk to my office.

Sometimes when you’re drinking your spicy margarita at the bar, licking the tajin rim trying not to make eye contact with the man next to you in a weird way, but in a chill way, you’ll look away for a split second to see your friends on the other side of the bar dying laughing and moving their hands in big ways like an Italian grandfather at his pizza shop because they can see right through your failed performance and are trying to help. They motion to you now to stop doing that, mouthing “what are you doing?” You’ll tell yourself the tajin rim wasn’t worth that fumble but you’ll order a skinny spicy margarita (Kaylie-influenced) again a few days later, with extra tajin.

Don’t know if we on Substack would be the type to watch the news or swipe through Insta, but if you haven’t heard there was a masssssive blizzard that hit NYC…so I’m going outside for the first time today to see the snow. Hibernation season is on her last chapter…..maybe?

Cheers xXXXX

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