end infinite: 02.2011

2.17.2011

rebo and gingy, gypsy row, new orleans.

peace pipe artifact, skies house, new orleans.

sassafras, new orleans.

industry beyond field, sorrento, louisiana.

new era, prarieville, louisiana.

rustling, columbia house, tennessee.

men watching football in church,
mission house, new orleans.

boricua, the dog park, new orleans.

have a happy new years, iSpys house, new orleans.

spazter, spazs house, new orleans.

2.07.2011

halfway house,
dragons den,
new orleans.

techx lighting a blunt from my cupcake,
cadets grandmas house, new orleans.

my current state of mind.

smoked out, cadets grandmas house, new orleans.

slihm, city park, new orleans.

slihm is someone I admire greatly. not only is she a beautiful creature physically, but she has drive and aspiration, she has the ammunition to fire it all from cannons... or should I say from nikons?

one night at neeners recently, after a beautiful coagulation of perfect people and blunts and acrylics, everyone had gone and neeners and I were left watching south park in her living room full of furniture that she doesn't own. I was sitting in slihms papasan, curled like a G, internally relishing the new quiet, replaying scenes from the night in my mind and giving directors commentary on it all. Letting my thoughts course amok, a captured image of slihm with half lit whiskey eyes slid into the weave and I had a sudden warmth shoot throughout my body.

I knew what it was instantly.

I jolted, and was taken back to reality, back to neeners living room, back to tangible fluff and smoke. I did not want to recognise this feeling, much less acknowledge it and embrace it. closing my eyes to try and relocate my conscious to a more sane space, more and more memories of slihm kept cropping up and this time they were mingled with imaginary thoughts of brushing my lips against her neck. finger-tipping her hips. making her smile contort into open mouthed gasps.

god... damn it.

I opened my eyes. the air around me swirled and I caught her scent for an instant. maybe I was imagining it. but it is her papasan that I was balled into, so perhaps it really was her? her papasan, me in it's white and comfortable concave cushion... I let the metaphor linger in my mind for a moment. ha, no.

neeners was absorbed in southpark. I told her shortly that I had a dilemma. I wanted to ask slihm - slihm, the girl who just lost it last summer, the girl who thumped bibles harder than a judge strikes a gavel, the girl whose perspective on so many things is skewed but so fucking clear - I wanted to ask slihm on a date.

"like... a lesbian date?"

ha.

yes, neeners. like a lesbian date.

"she'd say yes because she's really polite, but uh - "

HA.

I don't want to her to say yes to be polite. I think she is beautiful.

...

and the conversation was over.

the next night, another gathering was had at neeners house, and this time it included our friend squeeze.

squeeze is a genuinely intelligent guy who is semi-attractive in a gingery, well fed country-boy way. squeeze and I made out for one night and that was more than enough. he's a good guy with a good heart and a really fucking patronizing and condescending attitude. after having made out that one night [in the back of neeners car because he would not let up, how fucking gauche], I never wanted that heavy and darting tongue ever again, so I told him that I was not relationship ready but that he was a really great guy etc etc, and he tells me I'm "too free" and that I'll "never settle because I don't know what I want." I do know exactly what I want which is why I wasn't settling for him, but that's another story entirely.

everyone at neener's house is having a great time. squeeze is getting handsy with slihm. this is in his nature, I think nothing of it until slihm starts responding towards it in a not-so negative way.

ok, I think. I can't be mad. I can't be mad. I can't be mad.

neeners looks at me as if I am a timed bomb on 0:06.

squeeze and slihm hold hands.

I can't be mad. I can't be irrationally mad. I can't be illogically mad.

squeeze and slihm kiss.

I can't be fucking mad. this is driving me fucking mad. I can't be so fucking mad.

0:00.

I breathe, and I get the fuck over it. c'est la vie; I'd rather her be happy than see her so sunken all the time.

the night went well; we tye-dyed and our shirts and towels came out dope. I leave, going home with bitter thoughts. she'll get over it - I think. no one in our group can handle seeing squeeze more than once a month and hopefully this stigma will be retained by him and it will startle her when she realizes how aggravating he is - I think.

I go over to neener's the next day for morning yoga. I knock, neeners opens. the first thing I see is neeners mouth, agape, and then her eyes rolled towards the papasan behind her - where slihm and squeeze sit intertwined. he hadn't left. she hadn't left. they had shared the same bed.

I wanted to vomit.