February 20, 1999 |
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Hey! All Kitchens (just like the chef in you.) Then on the back: Thank You I am now carrying this packet around to remind me of you. My SugarPacket. Here's an analysis of what the major function of my senses are: My sense of sight is reserved for art. This means work, leisure, or just art appreciation. What I see is art to me. My sense of taste is reserved for food. What else would I want to taste? (Cum is considered food) My sense of touch is reserved for sex. If I can feel it on my skin, it's going to make me think of sex. My sense of hearing is reserved for learning. Whether it's my favorite high school teacher, or my mom's advice, or the lyrics to that old song- it's all learning to me. And my sense of smell is reserved to trigger memories. What's the point of learning anything if I don't remember it? So, I guess that's all my basic instinct: Art, food, sex, learning and memories. And then there is that phantom 6th sense I keep hearing about. Maybe that sense is reserved for style. But I wanted to write to you to tell you how cool it is to be in love. It's so damn weird, you know? I thought it would be hard to do, be in love. Like you had to work at it all the time or something. But I just keep doing what I am doing for my own sake. Then Alabama just fits there all nice and snug into my agenda. Alabama is so damn good for me right now. I couldn't have asked for anyone better. I even like his music! It was 6 in the morning, and Al and I crept into the morning by our cars. I think it's so cool that he can just pop out of bed, like me. That guy I slept with last week, shit. I forget his name.... FUCK. It's kind of embarrassing that I fucked someone I can't remember the name to. So anyway, Mr. X. We fucked for a long time both on the floor and in my tent. In the morning it kind of pissed me off that he was lying there like a sick cow. Not Alabama though. That boy has to work outside with his hands all day. Tells me about how cold it was being rained on, and then when work was over, he was driving his friends across the 520 floating bridge, and he phased out listening to his friends. He was in one of those non-talk, daydreaming type of moods. I get into those too. I don't want to relate to ANYONE sometimes. It's like other people CAN be a distraction. So Al goes on and tells me about how he imagined being a drop of rain falling from the sky. And the last thing you would see before the windshield wipers smeared you away, was a couple of lazy humans bumping around in a pickup truck trying to ignore you. Cool, huh? That's like she WE would talk about. He appreciates every little thing I do. He's not to forward, yet not too far away either. I have already told him all my darkest secrets, and he lets me fuck around! He even wants to hear about it! He actually wants to go to Wisconsin with me. (Him and Josie) He makes me more creative. There's where love is encouragement. Damn, I was so excited about writing him that little bedtime story. I left him a copy of A Moonface for Sugar on his nightstand along with the box of condoms I brought from my medicine cabinet. I swear to god I love him. They said I would just KNOW when I was in love. Shit, man. I waited around 5 YEARS for love to happen between Barron and I. I toiled away, taking all of Barron's SHIT for 5 FUCKING YEARS just so I could have a basis of comparison for Alabama. I would never know to appreciate Alabama's life if I didn't live the dead for 5 years. The worst that can happen is either confinement or death. Barron killed my spirit and confined my body. I might as well been dead. But I am making up my life now with all my new friends. Especially Alabama. Because man, do I love him. I mean, I fucking LOVE him. By the way, you should have seen me cut off this stupid hotwheels car today! That car was so UGLY! I cut him off like a bitch just because the spoiler looked like Elvis hair. |
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