TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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01.16.03, thursday afternoon
In the 2 days and 2 nights that we have been apart because I yelled at you while flipping you off and that means we really need to be alone to think about things and that makes me so sad because it is so sudden and new, this not-us, not-you in my lonely bed at 18th between Jefferson and MLK.:
Unplugged the bathroom sink drain with tweezers, scraping out a glutinous collection of snot, coagulated soap fragments, black and auburn skeins of hair. Cleaned the bathtub with Ajax I bought at Walgreen's, where I also bought the film I will use to record the days post-giddiness, because I regret not taking any photos when we were still giddy and young to us, this idea of "PS + JR 4eva". Discovered the floor of my room after hanging the clothes I never bothered to hang after doing the laundry with you on Sunday night. Had breakfast with roommate Joanna for the first time since I've met you, at the place just above Colonial Donuts on 17th, where a carefully coiffed Korean woman serves coffee and English muffins with eggs, cheese, and/or sausage. Read Index: For Free Expression (on "Home & Away: Diaspora Voices") and Colors edition on slavery, which I bought at de Lauer's because 1) I love the smell of print 2) the topics interest me and 3) I didn't want to go home and not be preoccupied, so occupied that no memory of you would tyrannize my so-lonely and unfamiliar realm.