my first habit experience is greeted by brick walls, a magazine board, white chalk on green.
everything is a fit, aesthetically.

I am wearing Huntington Bay, and a reference to Rocky Horror Picture Show is made. we do not know it, and subsequently, the reference is lost on us.
The most beautiful London Fogs we have ever had are being made and presented to us with pictures in the foam. the creamiest. we agree on this.

it all sounds and looks good until i realize that this place makes me realize that i don't know what i want. with an obelisk tattooed on the neck of a mutely dressed man and a yellow flower in my pocket, I recognize that although this place is everything that i want and think looks good, it's alienating and significantly intimidating.

but the record spinning and the low buzz of conversation allows me to somehow, find comfort.


tears for fears.

there was this one night that i couldn't sleep.
it happens a lot i think. but just when you think you can't stand it anymore, you're gone.

music music.

Besides my lovers new mixes...I've been listening to the crusades of Longshanks. he spun for four hours that i wished to hear the other night. we couldn't find him. he was on the balcony but there were no stairs.

instead we were waited on at an exclusive event. mandatory dress code. the guest list. our friends took care of us. gave us their whiskey and ice cold water bottles. we spoke of children, family fights, and outfit choices. hers had to be stichted together last minute...but she looked good.

.. ..... . . ................ . . ...

what I really wanted to write was about my night: late and conscious.

rejection and praise. comfort and a series of bad dreams. missing the old touch. falling asleep at peace. no more thinking about laundry and poor listening skills. (i don't always listen either.) lights. lamps. the night falling too late these days. more dinner ideas. more, and better music, or more of the music i love.
more creativity and a space for it. no more fucking comparisons and judgement. counting more minutes on the machine. or stop counting altogether. better handwriting. more money. (or just less worry.) the desire for good things, not harm. having friends around. more laughter.

all of him, all the time.

no more television, less internet. more people in my life to give me compassion, no more guilt. happy parents. no more misunderstandings. dirt. cleanliness. equal standards.

more conversation, less self-loathing. more black and white. new colours. more patience. more true love for myself. for G-d. black. green. gold. the good things. more of them.

barbeques and wine. less summer and shame. more autumn and comfort.

more surprises. no more ruining the earth. more idealism. making it work. less models and more reality. chipped fingernails and dry skin. oily faces and cellulite.

better, purer, more consistency in relationships. more music. for free. more resources that will not run out. better cooking skills and foot that won't expire.

fairness. mutual love. faith in more than myself and him. reading faster and more. safer cities.


have you ever gotten sex advice from your parents?
preeeeeeeety funny.