permit me to paint you this picture:
i am sitting on my ikea loveseat. it is "natural" in color, with a blue velour blanket covering stains from red wine spills, CB's dried up spittle and dried-up spaghetti sauce. a new one will cost me $19.99, but i don't think i want this color again. if i decide to get red, i have to shell out nearly 70 bucks. fuck it, even the couch isn't worth that much.
the tv is on channel 60. bravo. law and order: criminal intent is on. love that show. i can never seem to follow the storylines - don't pay enough attention. but i like looking up just when the crook has been discovered, to listen to vincent d'onofrio sermonizing and trying to rile him/her up. can't remember the last time the criminal was female though. what's up with that? women aren't smart enough to plan the perfect not-so-perfect crime?
i'm in my favorite pink fluffy robe. it's warm as hell and makes up for the lack of heating in my basement digs during the winter. spring is sort of creeping into the city now, but i still wear it. it's pale, a sharp contrast to the hot pink fluffy slippers i constantly wear, no matter the weather. my hair is in rollers: the grey ones are smaller than the white ones. an oversized pair of purple aviator sunglasses balances on the tip of my nose, there's a menthol hanging from my lips. it's unlit. can't remember the last time i smoked a fag. but i enjoy the way the mint makes my lip burn and tingle, so it's staying.
i'm getting in character.
today, i got all dressed up and went to the beauty shop to buy these rollers. i wore yellow sandals with weak soles that i had to re-glue last summer because i didn't want to buy new ones. waste of money, i thought. but now it hurts to walk in them. all my shoes hurt. i wear them anyway. i probably deserve it.
i wore a sexy t-shirt that reminds me of sailing, even though i've never sailed. unless that one boat ride to my mother's funeral counts, but that was a motorboat. not quite as sophisticated. and it wasn't a festive occasion - sails would probably have been inappropriate.
the rollers cost me less than $5. the zipcar cost me around $10. all in all, a badly planned excursion. but it got me out of the house, which i was grateful for. on the way back, the man at sweet mango with the gold tooth stopped me again, to ask me why i didn't come to his party last night. i said i was busy, even though i wasn't. i was watching family guy with CB and his 19-year-old cousin visiting from connecticut. he's thinking about moving here because he's bored. can't blame the kid. i just hope he learns to be responsible. right now, he's calling himself a rapper, writer and producer. he made me/let me listen to one of his songs. it was disgusting, explicitly all about fucking some broad - while i tried not to listen to it, i had to scramble for something positive to say so that when i took off the headphones, he wouldn't be disappointed. but i couldn't bring myself to bop my head while i listened. that would have taken my deceit too far.
i promised the man with the gold tooth that i'd come to his next party. maybe he'll give me free patties whenever i pop round with no cash and an unwillingness to spend $10 just so i can use my debit card.
CB is at work. i realize with a sinking feeling that i haven't seen anyone except him for several weeks now. not in general: obviously, i see the folks at work and some of the same commuters on the train. but i have no friends. nonetheless, i don't go out of my way to find anyone: they don't answer their phones anyway. i alternate between sitting and lying down on this uncomfortable loveseat, flicking between lifetime, bravo, oxygen and tlc. there's this new show on (at least, new to me) called candy girls that i get pretty engrossed with. but mostly, i'm bored. my brain is turning to mush, and though i'm trying not to admit it to myself, i'm just biding time until CB is off work so i can have someone to talk to.
finally a text comes in from him. my phone is on the kitchen counter so i can't see it, but i know it's him. and i'm right. i half-run, half-shuffle to the counter, pretending to myself that i'm not excited to know he's coming home. but he tells me he stopped at the sports bar to catch the game and asks me how i am. i type back, fine. roll my eyes, and go back to the couch. waste of my damn time. but then i remember it's not his fault i have no life, so i tell him that i wish i could come, but i've got rollers in my hair so i can't. then i put the rollers in my hair. and i turn the tv to bravo and absentmindedly watch law and order.
he text me a few minutes ago to say he was coming over. i couldn't allow that to happen without conditions. he expects them now. so i say don't come if you're drunk or smelling of booze. he says he's sober but smells like cigarettes because he's with K and K has been smoking in the car. i say that's cool.
then i get into character, so i can give him a good laugh when he walks in the door and so he'll think i'm nuts and worth all the drama.
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5 comments:
nice.
simple.
I love the pictures that u continually paint...its brooding as well as satirical..I like!
Getting into character? Kulutempa, you are a character!
Everything has been accounted for, I think, except for the spittel and aviator sunglasses. I don't even want to know how CB's spittel and your blanket became intimate, but you can tell me anyway. And why were you wearing sunglasses indoors, or was that necessary for you to get into character?
You are something else! Keep it coming please.
The scene came to life in my head, reading. You are something else! lol @ ur deceit. I sure hope u gave an outstanding performance :-0
your love reads so strong.
So you have a snuggie? The one criminal D'Onofrio could not put away, his arch-nemesis, was a woman. Her character spanned two seasons, she was a psychoanalyst that would strike a cord when she talked about his mother.
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