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Saturday, Dec. 14, 2002 / 4:35 p.m. ~Potato Whore~ Last night I was talking to one of the Whos from Whoville, the one with the beard that acts as a smile under his face, and he had the sweetest breath. I leaned in to him speaking so softly, looking into his eyes that were blue and dancing, smiling eyes, and wanted to inhale his breath deeply, make it my own. He said Washington feels the need to go to war quickly because of the weather. Something about Rommel, deserts. I hadn't thought of that before, Bush only has a few months to get this thing going. "Hence the push", said I, "Hence the push", said he. Ahhhhh. Inhale...... I would like to kiss you, if I could. I don't think anyone even noticed I was flirting. I flirt with great subtlety, you must pay close attention. I am so cold. Is it that cold in here? Gladys is sitting next to her Bill Clinton, her giant mouse, staring at me. I asked her why and she said, "Have you seen the time?" No, is it time? I'm meeting Sandy for a movie in a bit. I don't think he saw me get a pen and write down my email address for the young man with the French name. Instead, he waited to walk out with me, and should I have stayed? I like to leave early, I like to make an impression and walk away. I hope I hear from him, now I'm thinking I'd like to attend a play with him. I'd like to hear him tell me I'm beautiful one more time, and no, you can't call me, I don't use my phone. Except to call Sandy to set up the time, and to tell him details of my sister's murder, the recurring theme dreams I have in the mornings when I wake over and over, the extra rooms, the house I lived in, but not the "I love you" dream, I'm not telling him about that one. I said, "Why am I telling you all of this, we're supposed to just be deciding on a movie?", and he said, "Because I asked". So do I have to be such an open fucking book? Or is it fucking open book? Stop staring at me with the feline death stare, that CAN YOU FEEL ME STARING AT YOU?! stare. I got it, you crazy cat. I know what time it is, there's a clock on the task bar. CNN is blaring, and I don't know why, I don't trust them at all. Last night was fun, did I mention that? I loved looking, listening, talking. I loved the one being into me. He and his friend came over to buy Sandy's books, but they didn't have money, or one did, one didn't, and Sandy gave the one who didn't a book anyway. He said, "Cool, this book is tight!", and he folded it into a tube, like a magazine. I cringed. I revere books.... Shivering cold, it's not that cold, is it? What happened to Autumn? How did we get to low 40s every day? Every day is cloudy, rainy, cold. Every day. I'm getting really tired of it. Of being cold. But I awoke warm today, warm and sensual, sensate, filled with sensation, and I let it go. I'm still repressing. Sandy knows now. I realize he knows too much, and he surprises me when he remembers. We're going to see "Far From Heaven". I'm almost caught up on reading diaries, I fell very far behind. I think it's almost Christmas, but I haven't paid much attention. Cards, sent, received. They're trickling in. And I'm intrigued, I have an online crush, maybe two, or three. I like crushes, but they're infuriating in their unrequited nature. What if someone had a crush on me and I had a crush on him at the same time? That would be the best. We could crush each other happily. I just got an email to vote for a new Lay's potato chip flavor. Must go vote now!!! I'm a whore for potatoes. Cost of the War in Iraq
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