my social calendar has been abuzz as of late, the noise of queer feet twisting to the shangri-las in narrow clubs that are most likely not earthquake ready or my old oven blowing its loose door open with a burst of heat and fire scaring the whiskey from the rim of my friend’s tea cup or drunken afternoon gossip on our backs on unnaturally warm days in the park that ring of carpe diem and global warming.
so last night it was a pleasant surprise to find myself with no plans or deadlines. i filled the time with vegan cooking for one and heaps and heaps of owen pallett/final fantasy. listening to his music, i feel that dizzy ache of falling in love or lust with someone you can’t have. the straight stoner who shockingly remembers your name at your favorite lunch spot. the dream boat who sleeps with his back to a different ocean. the sensitive violinist you will never meet. some might think this sensation something dreadful, but, with over a decade of practice under my belt, it feels comforting in a way, like opening your front door after a long time away and for a split second catching that elusive personal scent and dropping your bags and being home again.
