i forgot to tell you about my days in the community theater scene. just bit parts here and there. hanging out with closeted lesbian stage managers, smoking cloves. spending friday nights making mix tapes with one too many bernadette peters song on them. hooking up with sixty year old men in parked cars behind grocery stores. going home with another stain on the pet shop boys tshirt i found at the thrift store. some things haven't changed. but some things have.
you know about craig. he was the skinny straight boy who needed the sensitivity of a skinny gay boy, which he got whenever he wanted. the years have passed and we are no longer skinny. i try to reproduce our relationship any chance i get. but you know all about that. you know about how i like boys who are unavailable. that's very common though. yeah, yeah.
i remember talking to becky on the phone a long time ago. she said that she couldn't get her apartment clean enough. she felt like she cleaned and cleaned with bleach and toxic chemicals that gave her a headache and it just wasn't clean enough. she said the only thing left to do, the only thing that could make it clean enough was to just burn it. take a fucking flamethrower to it. change the fucking molecular structure of the shit. that's how i feel now. i just want to torch out my life. i'm not talking arson. i just want it to be clean, you know? i'm not mad at you i'm mad at the dirt- right?
god, i have so much to tell you. let's just get into bed for a week and watch movies and order in food and have sex until we're sick of each other. sounds like a plan to me.
remember when we went to great america and it rained all day? we took ephedrine and we both felt like we were going to have heart attacks so we didn't go on any rides, we just drank cokes and chain smoked. that's how i feel right now. god i miss you.
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