.d.
.latest.
.older.
.tell.me.
.sell.me.
.dirt.
.mylove.
.c'mon.
.me.

.sponsor me.
.PLEASE.

2002-11-04 - 12:35 a.m.

i thought maybe i had evolved away from the cocteau twins. not that i don't love them. nor do i forget how elizabeth frazier is quite possibly an alien from the planet of unbelievable singing voices. but i stopped feeling saved while listening. until tonight. it was some remix i think. it was a four-song cd. it had caught up to my evolution, surpassed me, and for certain, i was saved again.

explaning electronic music is like like describing how a color makes me feel. it is more abstract than languange and yet i am always up for the challenge. too much yellow in a modern day outfit makes me feel like your fashion peak was in the '80s. too little gray, and you do not understand minimalism. too bright a red, you will eat at the hard rock cafe. any green other than military, you will pretend you understand me.

i caught the 33 bus, grazie a dio. before i do, rico and his wife walk over while i wait. she sits and he comes closer, telling me why he lost his $500, that crack whore he growls incoherently about some woman who punches him where he is now displaying his red collar bone. his cigarette trail is wafting toward me and i make him walk away. i can not deal with his smoking mumbles and requests for compassion. but he offers some of his own, and a smoke. and a sip of his and his wife's coffee. uh, no. but he likes me anyway. he introduces himself and his wife. he likes my name. he reaches out his hand to shake mine and i am in a momentary time warp of slow-motion. i am thinking all this in a millisecond [oh yuck i don't wanna but if i do not touch his hand, how will i say it without dehumanizing this toothless, nerve-damaged and therefore fidgety, scabbed fingered, skin-scratching, jaw grinding, homeless man. will i be one of those classist, dissociated comfortable women too good to see soul ]. so more worried about theoretical saintitude than hepatitis, my hand ejects itself from my pocket. i am surprised to find his hand soft and i know k-fly would be infuriated. she works in a mental institution where people DO have hep a, b, and c. she has even grown accustomed to opening doors with her elbows. you should see her impression of it. hilarious. she's right. i made a choice. so when i got home, i washed my hands.

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