FUCK

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love

a few more things.

1. i am considering reinstating the great platonic cuddling moratorium of 2005. if i'm going to get used i should at least get kissed.

2. sleep alone, sleep at home is official mantra for the summer. this in conjunction with re-upping on the platonic cuddling moratorium should ensure that i will have a long lonely summer. the only solace will be that it will be on my own terms.

3. goodbye, disappointment. the first few weeks of knowing you were nice. fuck everything after the first week of december.

4. coming soon...tour of heartbreak '09 presents the unrequited love diet. love is not a verb. it's a sickness.

5. she don't love you if she wouldn't gut you and hang you with your lower intestine, or at least threaten it.


-lfm

i'm considering accepting a dowry of health insurance and a dishwasher.

this summer is better than last.
a conversation i had on goodreads.com with a total stranger from last summer:
(start at the bottom)

	you said to Paddy: i am officially a mess. strep throat and a new cast that goes past my elbow. distract me from pitying myself. please.	07/03/2008 07:32PM view | delete
	Paddy said to you: ha ha, sounds like a great deal! Have you been inundated with offers?! Sorry to hear about the gangrene. hope you're well otherwise! P	06/29/2008 03:42AM view | save | trash
	you said to Paddy: achy and not so pleasant smelling. i'm considering accepting a dowry of health insurance and a dishwasher.	06/28/2008 01:30AM view | delete
	Paddy said to you: how's the wrist this week? are the dishes piling up?!	06/27/2008 03:01AM view | save | trash
	you said to Paddy: no, it doesn't hurt - just annoying. and, at least i have an excuse for not doing the dishes.	06/18/2008 12:07PM view | delete
	Paddy said to you: gosh, I'm sorry to hear that, hope it doesn't hurt too much. 10 hours?! fuck, that's **unbelievable**! I hope you're OK now.	06/16/2008 05:27AM view | save | trash
	you said to Paddy: stereotypes. what fun! i did indeed break my wrist. the best part was waiting for 10 hours at the hospital for care (no health insurance). to answer the why, I fell off a building trying to be cool. in my defense, it was slippery.	06/15/2008 11:55PM view | delete
	Paddy said to you: he he, you American girls are so direct... How did you hurt your wrist? Cracking the whip?! P	06/13/2008 07:17AM view | unsave | trash
	you said to Paddy: um, i expect more from an author.... although you are english and rumor has it you're into formalities. imma chicagoan so we don't really do that. i am sorta well, although i am pretty sure i broke my wrist, which is better than dying i suppose, but pretty uncomfortable. be good. samantha	06/13/2008 01:20AM view | delete
	Paddy said to you: Hi Raiza, thanks for the add, great to be in touch! Hope you're well, Paddy

the beginning of "the big break-up"

i left my tongue in st. louis knotted 'round my ex's finger
with a diamond-shaped tumor six-carat dead ringer
year later i’m a drinker whiskey while the sad songs play
and you don’t love her if you never wanted to punch her fiancé


-lfm

1. the only strange women i talk to these days are bartenders. scale behind my back weighing her truths against her craft. the flash of teeth, rehearsed, yet fluently coy. aroused only by the pull of tips.

2. i have nothing honest to say that doesn't sound desperate.

3. today it's my turn to confuse the sweat we made for love.

4. when a woman who has neither kissed nor slept with you uses the word "sweet" to describe you or something you've done it can be read as the backhanded acceptance of a compliment. equal parts cute and pathetic.

-lfm

Ode to Chicago

I live in Chicago. City of grey. Sooty snow. Flattened parking lots and gangways. Concrete, quarter chip bags, and street cats. When you wait for the bus you have to stand close to someone just to catch some warmth. I have a car now. I like singing in it, but mostly when the windows are up. The city looks like shit from a car and makes me feel autonomous. Like I’m watching it on tv. I am going through a lot of anti-freeze. That color makes me think it’s not very safe. I have to use it though because I’ve been avoiding potholes like landmines.

It would be asking too much for warm weather because this is what makes us us.

The lake is a wasteland and the sky, grey almost always, and even when sunny, the wind burning my face as I stretch to feel it over my cheeks. Infinity’s existence seems covered in a film of smog that can’t protect me from all my little problems. I feel big and this seems like it’s it. The pressure builds. But I stay. It’s what makes me me. They’re too laid back in California. There is no reason to be laid back here. Where? My front porch is covered in ice and plastic grocery bags whirl around my door. I turn off the space heater to use the microwave or blow a fuse. I turn the heat down when I leave. I miss my neighbors.

First break of heat with last years little kids now big on my block. Barbeque in the air and police driving opposite down the one way. My neighbors sit on the porch and share any alcohol they have. Laugh that I’m the only one not a cousin. We talk about the neighborhood cats and which one is having a litter.

In the park, I wish I didn’t have to wear headphones to pretend that I don’t hear the little boys telling me something about myself, something that they might even think is sweet. Something that many girls think is sweet too. Something about how they (I) look.

And so, I like it when women smile at me on the street or say hello. But they usually look down even when I say hi first. Or we’re both wearing headphones or pretending to talk on our phones.

Youth and age, race, gender, class. All that makes us incapable of connecting as our true selves. The little boys who holler are mostly sweet and fucked up from their daddies just like me and most everyone else, but they watch tv and have piece of shit uncles and play Grand Theft Auto and no one tells them different. And they’re powerless anyway so why not take it where you can get it.
-samantha