I don’t want the small talk
I don’t want a fucking coffee
you should know by now that I don’t drink it anyway
You know me better than this
I don’t need you to fix
I want your bloody forsaken heart
I want your face between my legs
I want your tears before a closed door
and do it again.
Photo Credit: Thina Desancic
The Lower East Side is the center of my universe. Orchard St. being the aorta, that is, if I only had a heart.
I have exactly 2 weeks left in my most beloved neighbourhood. So if you’d like to hop on some wheels and make me a deal, do it now.
It could be our last chance at
true romance or our
first dance with
So if you’re calling,
Call, don’t text
and remember to
Call, to say, I love you.
I went home to Toronto for a few days and found myself making plans with too many people and then only following through with a few. Morty‘s one of ’em. I’ve known him for a decade. It’s always comforting to be around those who’ve been around before you’ve been around the block. Before the banal, before the baggage, before the blogs.
This vine on his ceiling has been growing for five years and we’ve only just met. Last time I saw anything dangling in his bedroom it was two ladies eclipsed by a closed door.
Now he uses his boyish good looks and Upper Canadian charm to coax salad from seeds. He fed me a kale leaf plucked from the ancient Chinese clay and tilapia rig he’s got because he’s the G.O.A.T.
Know what else is great?
The fact that he gives out free unadultered advice to weirdos.
And since I hear he’s single, maybe he just needs the right one to call.
Crossing that bridge cuz I got there
I don’t check my emails
I do what I want and I been about you and I’m still about you
I’m blogging again
I’ll be fine
If someone says my heart belongs to someone else
You’re supposed to say I’m a strong independent medium beige woman who don’t need no man
If someone says pack up your shit n GTFO
You’re supposed to go peace out see ya wouldn’t wanna be ya
But if you’re me you gotta keep it real wit chyer selfie
and take it one day at the time cuz pretending it’s all gravy sure ain’t easy
This entry was written by Food, Friends, Joey Ng, Los Angeles, Photos and tagged Commissary, Ilirjana Aлусхај, Koreatown, The Line Hotel, Thina Desancic. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink., posted on April 6, 2015 at 11:05 am, filed under