Sinister: "i'm addicted to cold turkey"

[Kirsten Kenyon]

  it seems that every time i resolve to spend a quiet night inside, 
someone calls.  i shouldn't say i mind, because i don't really.  it 
was just raining and cold and i didn't feel like driving....well.  it 
was a pleasant enough evening, anyway, sitting in a shiny red diner 
full of giant candy canes, flashing stars and dangling santa heads 
that looked quite rosy and intoxicated.  sitting with the red-haired 
violinist, with our backs against the cold window and our legs 
stretched over the vinyl seats.  she talked about the southwest, and 
about warm evenings spent on the roof of a car in the middle of 
nowhere, staring at the desert.  about the tranquility of horizontal 
lines.  i said i'd like to go sometime.  that to sit that way, 
slightly denting the top of a car, leaning back on your hands and 
staring so long that you almost can see the curvature of the 
earth...it could only be the sort of moment when it feels as though 
everything is just as it should be.  
   a few of us went to colorado just after we graduated from high 
school.  we were doing some volunteer work in a tiny town, and had to 
take a plane with one row of seats to an airport with one terminal, 
and also had to spend one day without our baggage because it was 
stuck in colorado springs.  it was really hot there.  my skin turned 
very brown, and my hair turned very blonde.  we climbed a mountain 
and ate sandwiches at the top, and i slipped on some snow and skinned 
my knees.  a couple of people got ill from overindulging at the 
russell stover factory outlet.  melissa and i shared a bed, and every 
night we would just lie there and laugh and laugh until we were 
exhausted, and then we'd fall asleep.  i don't think we were really 
laughing at anything.  or we were each laughing at the other's 
laugh.  we were staying with an elderly couple...dick and helen.  
they were sweet, and apparently didn't mind the stifled snorts and 
giggles escaping our room in the wee hours of the morning.  on the 
last night, knowing we had to get up at the crack of dawn to take the 
scary tiny plane to denver, we stayed up all night on top of a hill 
overlooking the town.  the town was nothing.  looking down, there was 
a cemetery, and there were a few sad-looking bars and a gas station.  
looking up, there were more stars than i'd ever seen in my life.  and 
straight ahead....mountains.  a few people cried that night, and 
there was an awful lot of hugging, and everyone got angry at me 
because i wasn't feeling sentimental and i kept saying creepy things 
about giants.
    i don't know why.  it just seemed like a good time to talk 
about...giants.  yeah.
    anyway...that was one of those nights, i think.  
    this was much longer than it needed to be.  
    goodnight
  
   kirsten


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