10.14.2005

Gifts, Presents, etc.

As the leaves begin to fall, we are reminded that it is officially time for:
(drumroll, please. PLEASE. PLEASE!! GODDAMNIT!!! Ah fuck, dude, just forget it.)

EVERYONES BIRTHDAY!!
I will now distribute your gifts.

David Hodson (Oct 13)
I love you more than you know, I think. Know that I wanted to call, but was to drunk to operate a cell phone. I'm going to a house party tonight at the famed Page and Webster house, and I will not only toast to you, but will also consider it your west-coast birthday party. Oh, I will also drink alchohol and beers.
On a side note, I have been wrapped up in a "relationship" of sorts lately. Okay, for a month. Dating a poet is, I think, not my steez--my writing is suffering and I feel like I'm always competing with him in the wordsmith circuit. There is also a filmaker that has resurfaced. I was thinking that sometimes whispers need to remain whispers. This poets unfortunately did not, which is why this is even more trying; it's like: okay. So now I know this thing about you and your character, and how you feel about me, and what do I plan on doing with this information? LEAVE YOU. Yeah, that's right--everyone look at me. I'm such a bitch.
The point of this is, I think I finally know what this means. Maybe.
Only by a handful of people has the I.L.Y. been said to me in bed and this one, I think, has been the most jarring. I think the one you gave me (however platonically) was the best. Playing couple was meant for us, not for me and some poet who has naievely thought it was real.
Oh right!! Your gift:

For one week, I will be your girlfriend, and we can pine over each other and the tragedy of our distance via cell phones and e-mails. It'll be awesome. I can casually slip into conversation things like "Oh, yeah. My boyfriend in Manhattan would like that" and "..sorry, my boyfriend's on the other line, I gotta go." Then you can go into a bar by yourself and walk up to some beautiful woman and be like all "Yeah, it's really hard. My girlfriend lives in San Francisco, and, you know, it's just so far, and sometimes I just feel like we just need a clean break, you know? God, I don't know, I just need someone to hold me." Then said beautiful woman will hold you. Works every time. Happy birthday.

Thao Nguyen (Oct 14)
Oh my dear Thao. You have given us all so much in the form of witty humor and rediculous links, what does little old me have to offer you? Well, e-mail me your address, and you shall soon find out. Well, as soon as a small package can be sent from California to Melbourne. Tee-Hee. Happy birthday, kiddo.

and finally...
Clifford Wayne Anderson (Oct 15)
You are a beautiful poet. Happy birthday, I'm breaking up with you.

[suddenly realizing I am worse than Satan, Hitler, and Bush combined. the only defense I have planned is: "I warned you", which I did. but what choice do i have if i'm unhappy, right? well if you don't, my boyfriend in manhattan agrees. note to readers: this is not actually a break up by blog.]
--M

3 comments:

Thaozee said...

Damn, I thought it was a break up by blog. Wow, your harsh. Breaking up with him on his birthday. Did you moonwalk out the door after you broke up with him? Because that would be awesome and cruel. Thanks for the birthday props!

~PhoenixRising said...

My dearest GF;
This distance, the strain of trying to call at the right time, time differences and all, it is just, well, it is just too much. I do not know how we go on, but yet we do. Your drunken phone call the other night left me to expect your immenent arrival in NYC, but alas it was simple drunkeness. My poor heart cannot take these things...

Yeah, I think that's the ticket. I'll talk to you later.

D

charles.bukowski.costanza said...

damn. sounds like mrs. box needs some space.

thanks for that, yo. is hilarious.