.

notes to peter hilton

i was thinking about you today. because
today i finished my first zine. and that
had more to do with you than i thought.
because of that book you made me read,
and the other one you gave me, and the CD


with the pianos. and i think about you a
lot. i dont know if i am allowed to or
not. actually i am pretty sure i am not,
seeing as you wanted to be brutally
honest with me. seeing as how you wanted
to break me worse than i broke you so
that you could feel better. but i say hi
to you whenever i see you because i think
about you. and i remember how i thought


we were going to be friends for a really
long time. and how we became friends over
this mutual dislike of this really
moronic person. i dont know if i am
allowed to talk about that or not. or if


i am allowed to talk about her or you.
but i am because i think about you a lot,
but i dont talk to you a lot, so maybe i
should talk about you, a lot. i dont


worry so much about you anymore and maybe
that is why i disappeared. i dont know
why i left you and i dont know why i
leave anyone and i dont know why we
arent friends anymore. and i cannot make
it right or okay or apologize anymore,
because i dont think it matters to you.


well, obviously it matters to you, but in
a way where you just want me gone and
wish i had never been. or maybe it
matters to you for reals or maybe youre
just scared of me the way you always
were. because maybe i am just scary. and
maybe you are so new jersey and i am so


not. and maybe you are such a musician
and i am not. and maybe you are so
literary and smart and focused and i am

not. but i made you think i was or
something. or maybe i just drink a lot;

do you still drink a lot? do you still
watch Stella? do you still dress up like
a fag and walk around sleepy close minded
quiet towns and get stared at and take
silly pictures? do you still get overly
excited to show me things? no, i suppose
you dont. do you still lay on your bed
all night awake waiting? listening to
your record player, because you brought

your record player, because it was
quality, and your crates and crates of
records that you had to bring 2575 miles


in order to hear. because its about
quality with you, right? not the look. or
something. i dont know what i am trying
to say about you because i dont know you
anymore. you dont wear your green hat
anymore. and so therefore i cannot tease

you and tell you to take it off and stop
hiding. maybe you just dont hide
anymore? and maybe i do? is that it? i
never knew you liked me because i liked
you, and you didnt like me. and suddenly


i think you did, but i never knew. i am
stupid. but i dont think it matters
anyway. do you? do you think it matters?
was something supposed to be different?


are we supposed to still talk? can i stay
up all night with you and analyze you?
actually no, can you just tell me all
your secrets? because i dont think i am
good at playing that guessing game with
you anymore. because if i was i would
know what you were thinking when you see
me and i shout out hello awkwardly and so
like me. and if i knew you so well i
would know exactly the words to say so
that you understood and forgave me
and you said hi back. i wish i hadnt
deconstructed you and then not followed
through. i wish you hadnt thought that i

knew shit, because i am the first to
admit that i dont, even when i do, or i
did.

maybe i just want you to wear your
green hat and say hi to me when you see
me and tell me to come down you to your room
and tell me about your girlfriend and
your job and the book youre reading

right now and your favorite Bukowski poem
and some really great CD you just bought
and tell me to slow down and speak slowly
because run-on sentences are obvious,
especially when its me.

.

september is here


i mean seriously, how could you not know
how in love with you i am? how can you

not remember swinging in your backyard
with huge cups of water we had to keep
refilling because if i wasnt talking i
was drinking, drinking you in? do you
remember when i wrote "text msgs while
im driving. because im thirsty. for
knowledge. of you. of me..."? text messages
while i was driving. do you understand

what those are? i am serious about loving
you, i am serious about needing you, i am
serious about wanting you, and wanting to

live in a mobile trailer piece of metal
that creaks when the wind blows down by
the beach and ill cook you pasta and

youll live in the ocean and ill be the
housewife i have always wanted to be. you
taught me how to climb trees, you taught

me how to love myself, when he didnt.
you taught me. you are the smart one you
stupid girl. i am the stupid one who sees
the big picture. will you please start
seeing the big picture with me? ten years
from now, seventeen years from now, thirtyfour years
from now, i will still love you, i will
still know you. and we may never have

traveled across state lines or country
boundaries, or even the ten hour Greyhound
bus ride to Ojai, but that doesnt mean i

dont love you. i just dont understand
how you could not know how in love with

you i completely am. do you remember that
one time, way back in the day, when we
played Kings, and you had short hair, and
you said you got off alone in your room,
and all i was thinking was thank god?

probably not, because you didnt know
what i was thinking, but i pursued you. i
pursued you. you didnt pursue me, you
didnt say to yourself, "i must have her.
she must be my friend." i did. do you
understand? i dont know what else to say
to you. i dont want to piss you off but

(when i go back and tell
people i live in California i)
i am always pissing you off because you
wont just fucking accept me for who i
am. accept me for who i am, and be in
love with me in the everlasting way that
i am in love with you, and see me in
three weeks back home, and give me a hug,
okay?
(too many palm trees and
too much smog and i
had to come here, to
California, to appreciate
seasonal changes, snow,
home, real trees, and
clearer air.)

.

you know i know, so why dont you just say so?


you can hide all you want behind that wry smile,
but i know youre watching me all the while.
did you know im scared to look at you too
because speechless is something i rarely do.

instead i tend to run a muck
dodging and diving, im just like a duck
there goes my head back into the sand
again and again and again and again.

so hey little boy whom i knew so well
when you realize youre stuck under the bell
just like me all those times before
it will be okay to come knocking at my door.

i have an orange peel surrounding my heart
and if your hands are steady, you can start
illl let you begin to pull from one end,
and i can unravel crying next to you again.

because the air is fresh between the leaves
and my stomach no longer aches and heaves
i can stay up all night hugging my knees
and we can run away like thieves.

.

guard your heart like treasure


my foot is asleep like my calve is asleep like my
knee is asleep like my stomache is asleep like my
heart is asleep like my mind is asleep.

i sit here and type and hope the words sound right and
maybe you will understand and they will make
sense and you will be interested and you will like
me. my speakers push the notes into the air and
this voice sings some silly lyric to me about if
you still care at all and if you love me at all and
boring stupid unoriginal emotional bullshit.

because if you love me at all you will call. and i
am waiting to not study and to not clean and to
not socialize but to go stare at a screen and
pretend that makes these people my friends.

pictures of sunshine and summer adorn my
walls and my feet remind me of summer and
warmth and home and what it used to be and
how it could be and how i always try to be.

but i
never am how i always try to be.
i always fall short.
i am tired of falling short.
i want to be big
and tall and strong like an elephant.
and an
elephant never forgets and neither do i.
neither
do
i.