Am I 'going for real' now?

Or is this really supposed to stay a 'story'?

Ultimately, it's all the same to me:
once I resign the words to paper
(or, stranger still: whatever nebulous locale this text inhabits now
among the ethers—a vague haze, boundless)

It's got a life of its own

I felt I was barely living mine
when Dirk arrived, 10 something-or-other-a.m. warming up Friday
the second of May, 2008

He was early; I was late

Sleep-deprived and bleary-eyed,
we barely made the plane
(or rather, I...)

(books are good food, by the way)

one transfer, two klonipin
later

(There's this thing I have about flying:
I'm not afraid of dying, just hope it's swift—
but the oxygen?

I'm claustro, and just KNOW there's not enough of it)

it
was such a relief:
stumbling from a taxi
into our hotel

Sleep swept us over us in currents:
till sometime the following afternoon
I was drowning in it

Dirk lost in its undertow.



and we tried playing it mad cazh for a hot minute, but

Everybody wanted to check out

where
soon

we'd discover
who the curators

linked
us to.

I've gotta admit: I was--and am--pretty stoked:

whereas



No one seems to remember the names paired with them,
though I think Jared's is Bob Coachellasomething.

Bonus points for any of y'all who might know...?

Hrmm.

Linda's parallel was/(is) Nico, which she was far from bummed about—

However, that cute little Cory Kennedy?
Well, let's talk about the wall she was granted to display her art instead:

Once my own fears were allayed,

the picture was clear; the DVD actually played
and, well: I finally believed it was happening

all happening—
and how!



Dirk's photograph was mounted
(Mssr. 'Fingers Crossed' discovered he had a wall of his own—
or, rather: through August 31st
still does, that is...)


though unfortunately, at this moment
my sepia-toned tinge
is bleeding into black static...

I HATE TO DO THIS, BUT
PLEASE CHECK BACK FOR THE REST

soon. SOON. soon. SOON.

I

P
R
O
M
I
S
E
!

--thank you--