I live on North St. in Allentown and there is some sort of white haze blanketing the sky/buildings! I haven't heard any fire trucks or noticed any big commotion, but it's super bad towards the city.
Does anyone have any idea what this is? I checked the Buffalo News thus far and no word.
If you were a snake (a brightly colored orange and yellow creamsicle corn snake, to be exact.. I mean hypothetically..), where THE FUCK would you hide?
My mind raced as each word left his mouth. "You've still got those eyes," he slurred in between drags of cheap cigarettes, "you and your sister.. the kind of sparkling eyes you get lost in." I bit my tongue, nearly tasting the blood of words I shouldn't say. What's appropriate- "Go back to your girlfriend, she looks annoyed." or maybe the less harsh "Fuck You." No, think insincere and aloof. "Well, thanks," I managed amidst a genuine shoulder shrug. Too little, too late. Rather too much and much too late. I thought back to when things were too little. When we danced to that dumb Eric Clapton song in your living room. When I oh, so desperately wanted you to believe all the great things my mother always insisted were true about my adolescent self. I was a wreck over you back then, and here you are.. a wreck over grown up little ol' me. Satisfaction isn't the correct word. Too vindictive, too self-promoting. More of an "I told you so" glance that can't be duplicated, as I casually and thoughtlessly buy another round of PBR for the group. I told you I'd be something. I'm not sure what I am now, but I'm sure I am something.
When the vomiting subsided, I managed to peel myself off the bathroom floor, gingerly placing my hands from toilet seat to sink, from sink to sides of mirror. Glossy and redness aside, I noticed what must have been quietly hiding all along.. they sure do still sparkle, but you'll never get lost in them.
Even if I decide to leave here, the memories I've made so far are sufficiently heartwarming. It's funny that most of these "wish you were here" postcard moments contain old hearts from an old town. Old hearts that haven't succumbed to stiff upper lips and more so, stale air. An indescribable togetherness and comfortable state cannot be made more apparent than when we are together. A weird bond from growing up in a small town with small minds, yet somehow ours have flourished separately and together and in ways beyond city limits and town jurisdictions. Sanity amongst green beers, clarity amongst shots of Crown. A burn that is all too familiar, yet still has a bit of mystery and intrigue pulsing within. Trainwrecks doesn't sound so bad, especially trainwrecks within pleasant company.
Sometimes I make myself nervous thinking that the rest of my life is going to be me sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette, watching Roseanne with Pete constantly and consistently by my side.
I don't know why I'm scared of this, because it doesn't sound half bad.. ? (minus the whole couch, Roseanne, and rest of my life aspect)
I just want that infamous Buffalo spring breeze so I can open up the windows as wide as they can go and enjoy! And go up on the roof and spin around in circles, realizing why I am staying here!
"Come on, you know how the winter is up there.." she unconvincingly sighed, realizing there was no true optimism in that statement. To me, it sounded like more of a depressing question, rather than a solid explanation as to why my blues have gotten so.. navy. My brutally honest answer - "without you? Dismal and unforgiving." The obvious lack of sunlight must have affected more than the melanin content in my skin, must have gone deeper. "I'm going to buy a week at the tanning bed, I need some light in my life." A moments pause and a rebuttal I more than expected, "You know those cause.. cancer.. right?" My silence must have spoke volumes, along with the exaggerated noise of a deep inhale from a Camel Light. Cancer, hah, right. "Well, at least you'll look thinner."
Though my room was well-lit, I still awoke grabbing and feeling frantically throughout my covers. Nothing, merely a dream. Waking up in the haze of tangled, old legs was neither familiar nor welcome. It had been multiple years since I felt those cold legs intertwine with my own, and unfortunately I was by no means prepared for the vivid imagery. Valid question, was I ever truly prepared? A hurricaine of emotions is all I can manage to briefly remember.. Memories I've tucked, taped up, and stowed away ever so carefully in the back of my mind. Concealed only because foolish youths are just that - young and foolish. Absolutely nothing to be devastatingly ashamed of, but, admittedly, legs I would not like to find myself tangled up in again. How random, how lucid, how intrusive.
Nontranslucent curtains should be on my shopping list.
I wish my life was an Eric Carle illustration. Who knows, maybe it is and I just haven't found the correct image to portray 22 years of ups, downs and inbetweens.
I feel a sickness invading my body again. I actually begged the illness gods to let me be healthy because Stephanie is heading back home in a little less than two days. (more like one day and 8 hours) I cannot wait! The raging, the _______ ______ subs, the love love love love looove!
Silly illness.. nothing some Wegmans Veggis Chili, Sex and the City DVDs and a few forehead kisses can't cure.
For hours, I watched cars of various shapes and sizes get completely stuck in the snowbank outside of the Ambassador. Once the squealing of the tires and flying of the snow commenced, Nick, Peterbilt and I would rush to the couch, tear open the blinds and giggle until we couldn't breathe. All the while, some poor soul would be huffing and puffing, swearing and shaking fists until their little compact Toyota would wiggle out of the giant pile of mucky snow. As if karma couldn't rear its ugly head any worse.. an hour after our voyeristic ways, Nick's car foolishly gets stuck in the back parking lot. Although we did have an immeasurable amount of fun tying his car to mine and acting like real manly men pulling the car from it's embedded spot, I feel like karma is on the prowl.
