Champagne Synesthesia

September 5 2008.

Yes, I am actually sitting here at my desk in my fastfood-printed underwear, listening to t.A.T.u., opening that can of French vanilla coffee mix with my teeth. spent this entire day naked in bed, air conditioning on my back, curled into green and blue blankets. My room is a disaster, I need caution tape. I moved all the furniture on a two-hour whim, and then never followed through with the rest of my shit.

I told everyone at the party last night that I was in love with Christmas lights. I told everyone I was in love with lights, I said I liked a girl, I liked two girls, I said Happy Birthday three times. Morgan texted me earlier to say she’d made a bento box lunch, which made me so unbelievably happy and wistful and everything all together.

When we left, strolling along streets, I realized I’d left my handbag. Kevin sprinted back into the party to get it, and returned almost naked, draped in a long, redvelvet curtain that trailed the ground behind him. All the weirdness of the night was exquisite. It was up there with the foamparty, where we ended up swaying in front of overlit photographs at the art opening, and everyone realized together- my arms were covered in someone else’s blood.

And I woke up with a boy and we both couldn’t remember how we got home.

I’m pretty sure I told you something inappropriately awful in someone else’s kitchen last night. I only remember you awkwardly holding the neck of that glass bottle and looking with open, sad eyes, and I forgot everything and I’m sorry.

My fingers smell like nicotine. I love those three syllables, they roll sharply off my tongue. I bought a box of junior mints yesterday, and ate them all at once: they were comforting for some many reasons and so many memories.

The French boy with the crazy name, who will be famous one day, just came to my room and asked me for a quarter. I had to put on clothes to answer the door, something I will be too lazy to do in future, and he said,
Oh, your room is so well-decorated, it’s like you’ve been here for years, this is your home, oh, look! What are your passions, what drives you? What is your passion?
And left before I could respond.