A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || February 4, 2007 || 1:59 am

Fuck this shit, I’m going back to Set Point Angry.

He compliments my vest. It is ridiculous and poofy and gold -shiny, shiiiiny gold– and has a hood. But it’s warm. And it’s gold. It’s being shadowed by a ribbed turtleneck that sort of feels like a happy hug: Stretchy and with sleeves that cover my hands up to my knuckles.

I am one of those shmucks that likes –nay, loves– the too-long sleeves that the clothing industry is busy foisting on us; I like the way they feel, my hands, half-cocooned in random textiles, warm and just barely peeking out like comfortable, tentative animals.

He likes my vest. It’s strange how most of my best friends are men yet I sometimes manage to forget how to talk when it involves the random male. Innocuous, non-threatening and self-affacing random males. What the hell?

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

“You have an uncanny knack for telling people ‘You are very, very stupid.‘ without saying those words. You know exactly how to cut swift and deep.” This is earlier in the day. Tess is matter-of-factly dissecting my behavior after a phone call from my bank. The woman on the phone sounded very imperious, and rather than be patient with her, I saw her imperiousness and raised it with scalding. She folded, I win.

“It’s brilliant to watch sometimes and painful to watch mostimes.”

“I don’t always mean to, you know.”

She is tender now, “I know.

“I’ve never really seen you do it to someone who didn’t deserve it. But I have seen you do it too quickly.”

“I try to rein myself in.”

“Yeah, I know that too. You stay exhausted from it.”

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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