dicks, planes, marbles and love

At $chool trying to do work, mostly drifting in and out of consciousness.

Today I started to think of my hangover as a precious feeling that I carry around in my head. It's like a symbol that I drank too much tequila last night, smoked some shitty pot that I allowed some guy to sell me in the Lower East Side, and sleeping five hours last night, if you count the hour I fell asleep on the train and rode all the way to 211 Street. I've kicked myself out of my apartment to make room for couchsurfers and have been crashing at Neighbor's place while she is out of town. Her futon is basically rock hard and it's unbelievable how well I sleep on it. Like I'm dead.

I got up to meet a visiting friend from San Francisco whom I haven't seen or spoken to since January. It was nice to see him, and I ate the most delicious eggs florentine with spinach and tomatoes and potatoes and smoked salmon and drank about four cups of coffee.

I am wearing a ridiculously short skirt today in the hopes that I would run into New Crush at school. I love having a new crush at school, because it makes my comings and goings so much more multifaceted. I don't know anything really about New Crush, except that I fell in love with him last week. Let me tell you about it.

I went outside to smoke a cigarette and he was outside doing the same. I sat down and babbled in hopes of distracting him with my speech away from how shitty I looked. While I was babbling, I interrupted myself because I was distracted by a shiny object on the ground that looked like a luminous little bubble. When I pointed it out to him, he reached over and picked it up--it wasn't a bubble after all, but a glass marble. Then he placed the marble in my hand.

At that moment I fell in love with him. I've been thinking about it for days, what it meant. What I've managed to understand is that in that moment, so many things crystallized--all my vague feelings about the delicacy of existence and sanity and how I find it all so beautiful and terrifyingly fragile, and how at that moment he turned all that I fear into something concrete and unbreakable, a source of strength rather than weakness, and put it, literally, in the palm of my hand.

Ever since then, I've been obsessively seeking him out at school, and glimmering whenever he alights across my path. Today I saw him and I was so happy and said hi but didn't stop to talk to him. I am feeling fuzzy. I want to go home and sleep and I know I should but I also think I'm going to end up in Brooklyn tonight because Joe is playing a show and I know he will sing me my favorite song and I will feel all happy and blissed out when he does and then I will sleep with him and all will be well and good in the world and I will forget how tweaked out I feel until tomorrow morning when I wake up naked and confused and zone out on the ride back, wondering why I always feel like this.

Last night at the bar an old dude was looking at this astrology chart he had, and he said to me that things will calm down and simplify soon: am I ready? He said that there are many men right now, but that I am the one in control. He said I have to be mean: in a pointed way, and not drag things out. Then he said, "You have the dick. You're the one flying the plane. You know? You're in control." He repeated it about four times: You have the dick. You're the one flying the plane.

I have the dick. I'm flying the plane.

I just don't know where I'm going or how I'm going to land.