Sinister: well happy birthday anyway

[baker,baker]

i don't belong here.

it's absurd, how people expect you to come home the same person,
after a weekend like this one.  i'm not the same person; my home
feels like it belongs to someone else, my clothes don't fit me
right, and my friends all look like strangers.  i probably don't
like the same foods anymore, even.  i'll have to find a new
secret ingredient for my mac 'n' cheese.  i'll have to get new
shoes.  i'll have to accessorize.

it was one of those weekends.  i saw belle and sebastian, yes. 
and yes, they were incredible.  just like last time -- which
goes to show it doesn't take 4,000 miles of earth and oceans to
make a kid feel completely alone.  just a napkin, a pen, and a
bowl of bad grits.

i wrote down my favorite line:
"so how about it?  show me please
how I will look in twenty years. and let me please
interpret history in every line and scar that's painted 
there in front of me..."

& when i got home, i shaved my head.

a bit later, there was a girl who saw me crying.  and then there
was that other girl, who was crying herself, and who came over
and hugged me, before launching into an unintelligible mess of
words.  i heard her say she was sorry, and that she didn't want
to be hated.  she said she had lied.

i have also lied.  i'm not sorry.

but those lies were not told this weekend.  this weekend i was
honest, brutal and afraid.  i was smitten, i was burned, maybe
even a bit forgotten.  i made someone very mad.  i made someone
scared.  i even think i made someone happy for awhile.  i left a
mark.

i'm definitely not sorry.


my friend shaun asked me why i shaved my head.  i wasn't sure, i
said, but i told him that something had changed, and i didn't
feel quite right about myself until i'd gotten rid of my hair. 
and then i still didn't feel right, but thought better of
cutting off limbs.  i went outside.

so shaun thinks i'm 'purifying,' and that this is a healthy
behavior.  i didn't disagree with him, but i did made a little
pretend gun with my hand, and i pointed my index finger at my
heart.  and i let my thumb drop.  i must be exhausted.  shaun
didn't ask me any more questions after that. 

when i first started thinking about this post, i was getting off
the el.  i had wanted to say that i felt like one of those baby
elephants you see on the discovery channel, running the end of
her trunk back and forth over the bones of her mother.  i had
wanted to say that i felt like an iceberg, broken off from the
antarctic ice shelf, drifting north into the loneliness of some
tropical paradise, only to be nibbled down into nothing by
hungry algae.  i had wanted to say my heart was broken.

but that's dumb.  and when i showed shaun how i'd been shot, he
probably didn't understand.  because when you get shot in the
heart, but it's done softly, and with only an imaginary gun,
you're really not so bad off.  my heart got a bit of exercise,
and it's still out of breath.  but i definitely feel okay.



love,
baker,baker

















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