I bumped my head the night we met and never saw things the same way again.
The second day I saw him, we walked down a boardwalk along a salt-scented Brooklyn coastline. He wore sweatpants and a baseball hat and we talked about him being first generation and me having left for a decade. We comment on the different shades of green blossoms in each other’s eyes. He kisses me at Cony Island, on the subway and all other kinds of pubic places. Continue reading
Now that I’m finished sooking for five or ten minutes, there are many other more interesting and entertaining things that have occurred in between.
For example, I field-tripped to Brooklyn a few days ago. There was live music and an eventual dance party in my living room. The evening concluded with nachos on the sidewalk around 1am.
Oh and laughter. There was a lot of joy and laughter that day.
Also, I recently roamed the Bowery in the summer rain; sipped a pomegranate martini in a dimly lit Russian vodka lounge; gazed into paintings at MoMA until my eyes rolled out of my head and onto each canvas; and woke up the next day with a pair of boots on my carpet that do not belong to me.
Big picture speaking, I know I seriously have nothing to complain about. Continue reading