h has a rose on each thigh. i like how thin and tall she is. i think she feels adequate.
she has her life. she thinks about it like any other person has to to keep it in line. she’s not unfamiliar with confusion, dread, and suffering. it hurt me to see her smoke. i think i would be less lonely and horny if i smoked.
i think they can tell i spend my time alone. they think i have social issues. i don’t know what they think or feel. i’m not supposed to tell them what they feel. amanda was irate when i said she was sad. you don’t tell me how i feel, she said. yes, i said.
i felt loved when she redressed me. amanda likes the idea that she is with someone different. she isn’t sure if i can be in her life on a regular basis. i don’t know what you do with your day, amanda said. i don’t know what i do with my day, i said. she repeats the words infinite and cosmic. they are meaningful to her. she travels the same day she sucks on my finger and tongue. her breath is like the wind at plaza blanca in new mexico. the stone and the light reflected our image when we were there. sometimes, i can feel what someone else feels and they get angry when i talk about it, had i not said anything they would not have been angry. my mother used to analyze me in front of her friend. it was an affectation she had. she would talk about a person’s weakness when they weren’t prepared to have it addressed. i thought it was amusing but sometimes it backfired and her victim was insulted or hurt. i think she mean’t well. it was how she coped. she wanted to be helpful.
women hold grudges unlike men, amanda said.
you make them sound like sociopaths, i said.
i don’t have the free time to spend time with her, amanda said. if i did i don’t necessarily want to.
when i’m not with amanda i’m not thinking about her nor am i thinking about anyone else. i think this means that i’m happy.
amanda likes movies that have violence in small spaces.
my salary depends on how much i fundraise, amanda said.
life is tough and humiliating. i write this stupid thought in my notebook with a red papermate pen.
i think about n because my therapist said her name in place of amanda. n has a nice looking boy friend. i doubt he’s the one for her. he has an overweening masculinity. she has less confidence than him. she wants to have a baby and a family. she likes me sexually, i think, but doesn’t approve of my character. n moulds and bakes cakes. they sell them wholesale. i get to see her in her cut off levi jeans and white van sneakers. she didn’t look me in the eye when she gave me a refill. i remember someone like her when i see her.
antibiotics pigs pork manure lagoon break down seasonal changing diets
super bugs are some of the words i remember when i saw amanda.
i’m not sure if you want me to introduce you or not, amanda said.
i don’t get to see you, i said. i like your attention when i do.
i’ll see you on sunday, amanda said.
amanda is anxious about having to write a plan for a cider thing. she has an assistant who helps.
a financial dude in a white shirt and pants talked with amanda. i mirrored his smile and goodbye.
i remember black and white creature feature film stills when i talk to amanda about superbugs and antibiotics.
amanda texted me a link to a youtube video of a dude using a drone to record a a pig farm and a large brown cesspool of manure.