thank you
for letting me stay here
thank you for taking me in
thank you
for the beer and the food
thank you
for loaning me bus fare
thank you for showing me around
that was a very kind thing to do
thank you
for the use of the clean towel
thank you for half of your bed
we can sleep here like brother and sister,
you said
but you changed the rules
in an hour or two
and I don't know what you
and your sisters do
but please don't
please stop
this is not my obligation
what does my body have to do
with my gratitude?
look at you
little white lying
for the purpose of justifying
what you're trying to do
I know that you feel my resistance
I know that you heard what I said
otherwise you wouldn't need the excuse
thank you
for letting me stay here
thank you for taking me in
I don't know where else
I would have turned
but I don't come and go
like a pop song
that you can play incessantly
and then foget when it's gone
you can't write me off
and you don't turn me on
so don't change the rules
in an hour or two
I don't know what you and your
sisters do
but please don't
please stop
this is not my obligation
what does my body have to do
with my gratitude?

grazie ani d.

What I wouldn't have done to know this song a few years ago.
Meantime, today has been brought to you by Ani's new live version of Rock Paper Scissors. It's pouring and the palm trees feel like they're somewhere more southeasterly... I could do with a hurricane. After 6-7ish tomorrow, of course. Wouldn't want you getting stuck on I-4.
Too tired to throw up and shake, too restless and scared to eat any more, here in my egg. Think I'll go dance in the rain. Are you home?

It's Constitution Day. Why not send John Ashcroft a little note to thank him for his hard work?

Oh! Oh oh!
Who wants to come?
[heeheehee]

Humbaba the evil. Humaba the tempter. Humbaba the not-really-threatening.

It's good to come back.

The night still confuses me
We’d all get tired and have to sleep eventually
Regardless of the sun’s demands
Regardless if it made much sense
You moved so far (that I know how far)
And then you got so sad that I bought a car
Yes I’ll come get you
And I will bring you home

You won't catch me behind the wheel of a Chrysler ever again...
It's worse than it seems if I'm listening to T&S and liking it.
All song lyrics!
and Gilgamesh.
and Ani.
Lend little miss listless a little bit of Christmas?
Doomed to a life of spinsterly clutter, vinyl and silk all full of kitty mess.
and unpaid bills.
Did I mention? Collections. Ow, socialized medicine! I'd rather work my fingers to the bone than owe them to else.
snrrrrr.
So many letters... I owe you and you and you and so many of you letters... or at least a loving... I just miss. You.

Too late, I find my student ID staring me in the face where I'd be able to ignore it best.

We should know; we've done this before.

No solicitors.
No trespassing.
No parking.
Officers on duty.
A lavender building hidden behind a white steel spike fence, almost unnoticed behind gas station dumpster pawn shop fast food, parking lot empty with a few inconspicuous old models and broken bottles. Two tired women smoking, scuffing white nurses' shoes on second shifts. No signs on the lot today.
No purses or handbags.
No backpacks.
Please show proper ID.
Only one partner or support person.
Support person must also present ID.
No children beyond waiting room.
Bulletproof glass warps the receptionist's smile and makes her eyes disappear behind her reading glasses. Eight forms, two-sided. Mirrors on the sides of the desk. Racks of magazines but we sit with our hands in our laps, listening to the news, whispering to the woman across the row of chairs to the right. Shushing children. Touching up lipstick. Carla reads her bible silently next to the television, holding the hand of the girl next to her who can't be more than sixteen and doesn't want to be here but has nowhere else to go. Roshanda, here with her friend and her friend's seven-year-old son, Roshanda who is tired of being sick but really doesn't know what this will be like, just knows it's the closest to what she wants. We tell her all we know, and she is reassured. We hope it lasts - we think it might. This room holds more hopefuls than any Miss America anteroom.

Friday. A warm summer evening. We are strong, determined, sure of ourselves and our places in the world. This lobby is almost like a nunnery or a girl's camp, full of cameraderie and wishes of good luck god bless be well. By wednesday we will be weaker, sick to our stomachs, but by next Friday we will know for certain the direction of our lives from here and now.

It is not a thing to be taken lightly.