i remember walking outside and my skin shivered in the sun.
ali and i braved the downtown alleys, garbage dumpster and stagnant puddles. while we photographed sixth street urban america, corporate america met the underground in a mingling of sxsw. it was bright, shading eyes with hands and sunglasses. and as we passed the benches of people waiting for buses, we became the ones followed. ali and i must be getting sexy in our non-single status b/c new mexico's mistletoe followed us to ask for directions a block after the pursuit began.
mellow and i kept you in the bedroom. your face in mood lighting and i've got the giggles. like i said, "rollercoaster of emotion", a three hundred and sixty degree spin. i'm eating that damn chocolate pie and getting crumbs all over the bed. i like when pirates pillage the booty. sorry (sort of) that i kept you to myself. and i hope you could tolerate the "crass" remarks during star wars.
yesterday, we took our money and went for snowcones. pink lemonade and sweet tea with lime drenching the powdery ice. pack it on the spoon and it melts in your mouth. we watched the kites fly from the rock in zilker park. the breeze whips hair around and emily makes funny comments. tash spits her listerine (see tongue ring care) out with pizazz and stink complains of a flip flop tan. if you didn't wear them all the time, professor, you wouldn't get tans like that. now on congress, store hopping. terra toys with playmobil obsession. tash's wet dream. stink and i anticipate when the two ladies come out of the dressing rooms wearing fancy pants vintage dresses. lovely day. blame the nasties on the sxsw people infiltrating the city. i got my chimichanga alright.
the air to moist with humidity and the wind to quick for lit matches. we took sparklers to the foundation and danced with the crackling explosions of color.
when the three of us get together ali questions what people would think if they saw us. i have to admit the genie dances and the stories told behind closed doors could give others the willies. pretzels with honey and strawberry preserves, crazy sludge juice, and spinach balls.
thank you for coming over late, pretty face. we went to the foundation also. the city with a tint of halogen and neon trapped by the cloudy sky. the wind runs like water, crickets chirp and the music from below wafts up to our ears. i'm busy focusing on my own words and watching you think like an emo boy (haha). there are two sparklers that i lit with stolen matches, one for you and one for me. i like to sit with you. people have been here before leaving their marks...beer cans and papers and graffiti'd poetry. and i talk about the beach. rolling hills surrounding the van with trees and it's quiet with elliott smith. and then we juxtapose this with the pastels and brights of taco cabana. eatin' queso with my main squeeze says concubine.
i'm horrible with good-byes, and you know it b/c of stubborn stalling. i wish the last ten minutes weren't timed. and then we could sleep together, side by side.
the conscious and the dream become intertwined when i stay up late or wake up early. did you say you had changed your mind or was that in my sleep?
the car is being loaded with forms of entertainment and the trailer with sleeping bags and a tent. away we will drive from the concrete city. the beachin all its' glory. once a year with jessica, fires and dances in the moonlight and surf. gone until sunday.
currently spinning: convocation of...: recognize