Your hats rumpled and slanted on your cowlicked head.
Your sandwiches behind the wheel of your truck.
Your worn leather loafers.
Your standing at the sink for long drinks of water.
Your radio on in the garage.
Your knee-bouncing piano-playing from the basement.
Your polaroid self portraits.
Your hammered, often bruised fingernails.
Your keeping of bottle rockets in the junk drawer.
at 4:11 PM
And boy it's making people lose their minds.
I awoke on Tuesday to the blood-boiling-banshee screams of a neighbor. I thought she was being stabbed but quickly came to understand that it was a lovers' tiff. Imagine every swear word you know peppered with "AREN'T WE HAVING FUN NOW?" I didn't think it sounded like fun but kept my own mouth closed. Lucky for me, she eventually sobbed herself to sleep...
And yesterday I ran smack into the middle of two women fist fighting outside of Whole Foods, one of whom had a baby waiting for her in a stroller...
Instead of spitting words or throwing punches, Keith and I are headed out tomorrow to enjoy the moon's fullness in Montauk.
at 2:56 PM
at 1:23 PM