7:40PM: under blankets. propped body on pillows. want to drive to washington d.c., maybe. i could see a movie or something. i might do that. yeah. walking around washington d.c. alone tonight, why not. i like driving there. the george washington parkway is pretty but it’ll be too dark to see tonight. excited for warm weather, reliving idyllic 2007 drives to d.c. fully reliving idyllic-ness would require the company of another person who i could joke and have sex and be in love with like i was with the person in 2007. man i am tired of that ‘we get excited about each other and…’ routine. i don’t know. have felt so hopeful so many times. old woman rickets over here.

10:50PM: have been looking at internet and listening to ‘last days of disco’ by yo la tengo. responded to ex-boyfriend’s g-chats. our lease expires in 11 days. he showed me this song. last night he said:

‘honeychile

ive been pronouncing the ultimate E as a long E

member when we walked over that bridge’

the bridge lead to atlantic city, i think. maybe we just ended up in atlantic city later that night. i had started living in the apartment again. this was during the ‘less arguing than joking but usually one or the other, before it got sad’ time. sometimes i’d want to talk about why we broke up or what we were doing together if we weren’t together anymore. then we’d talk more and i’d remember why.

typed this in phone the morning after ‘bridge day:’

‘Light moving through windows seemed fast, flickery/sparkly, Z’s face smiling, the thing I said or read: people’s faces when they’re sleeping or just waking are always honest

Remembering walking over bridge and how clear and expansive and low to the ground sky was, wanting to hold onto that memory and in that memory how much I wanted to hold onto Z, all yesterday feeling his presence as a kind of absence that must be urgently protected, like when all of a sudden I know I’m dreaming and the dream becomes about how to prevent waking, simultaneously touching and missing him, how easy it was to talk until the drive home from AC, it was almost perfect, then things we’ve done to hurt each other seemed louder and more present than the music, scenery, my hand on his thigh, etc.

Watching shadows of branches making the light move fast and smelling how he smells, thinking “none of this will stay,” watching his eyeballs move under his eyelids while he slept like they were looking at fast moving things too, finding spaces in his body for my body to fit even though it was uncomfortably sweaty, now im gone in a car with nothing to hold onto

Now merging onto 95n, a feeling of ghostly temporary deafness/blindness in right side of face, like right now in a parallel universe I’m having a stroke’