i have mustard and a sausage, coffee, lemonade, a banana cream  pie, rhubarb and vanilla ice cream.  i read impressions of africa. african women compete to make the loudest belch in a dance. “little by little, the dance grew more lively and assumed a fantastic quality while the frequency and volume of the noises increased in a powerful crescendo. there was a moment of impressive climax, during which harsh deafening sounds marked the rhytm of a diabolic sarabande; the feverish ballerinas, dishevelled and racked by their terrible belching as if by blows, crossed and followed one another, and twisted themselves in every sort of contortion, as if overcome by a a vertiginous delirium.” it is written by a white frenchman. i find it disheartening. they compare him to proust.
j thinks i’m into him. i am into him but not how he thinks. i think he has been reading my blog. i doubt anyone reads it. it’s not easy to know what my
motivation is or what his motivation is. he can’t be seen talking to me when he works.
my mother used to read proust in french, i said.
to you?, he said.
no to herself, i said.
i don’t want j to think he’s superior or that i obsess over him.
i have nothing to do. i eavesdrop.
we are playing at valentines, the pretty young man said.
you’re retarded, the pretty young man said. did he just use the word retard?
the brat dominates the conversation.
my dad used to beat the shit out of me, the pretty young man proudly said. i told him to shut up and he slammed my head.
the four talk really really fast.
i’m taking my wedding ring off, the pretty young woman said.
i don’t think i’m a dick, the pretty young man said. i think kelsey, i think liar.
the girl with the long pig tail is the talker. the girl with the long hair is a mute.
i want too much candy, the pretty young man said. i’m going to get diabetes.
the philippino girl in my class is in aa. she asks me to go to aa. that’s like going to church. i would turn on fire. i like responsibility as an employee. we both agreed weekly. see how the work load goes.
gotcha, said the young man with a red blond mustache.
the brat still dominates the conversation. i want to fuck him senseless.
he’s always been good to me, said the pretty young man. he’s going to write a novel.
about what?, said the young man with the infallible mustache.
i haven’t asked, said the pretty young man. my goal in life is to make more money than my father
the woman with the long pig tails disappears to the bathroom for fifteen minutes.
i’m used to living off my father, the pretty young man said.
the pigtails returns from the bathroom. she has a wide grin.
you look like a normal person, said the pretty young man. you looked like a freak before. now you look like a wet freak.
is freddie going to kill me, the pretty young man said.
i don’t think so darling, said the young woman with long pig tails.
their dynamic is disgusting, the pretty young man said.
are you fucking kidding me dude, the pretty young man said. i think that if you were to hit somebody you would have to be careful not to kill them. i was telling elena, before i almost called you elena, how i couldn’t move my arm for weeks after you punched it.
he’s a gentle person, said the young man with the red blond mustache. just clumsy and unfortunate.
jack in the box, said the pretty young man. we don’t know if it it’s a bang bang bang, said the pretty young man. we all have to bring 50 bucks each and spend it. the last time we partied alone. i don’t remember. we were going for black out drunk.
i saw my ex there, the young woman with the long pigtails said. we went to star bar.