5406 Lexington

We were over at The Roost.

He hadn’t been there
in years.

A couple of pretty, natural, tall
petticoats
walked in
with some meager-non-fox swain
that cheaped out
and ordered them three Pabst.

And then I looked over at the fox
with me
and thought, ‘great, he knows all of my secrets.’

Well that’s boring.

Couple home after a night out with friends. Both in the kitchen. Both intoxicated.

Him. What, are you going to eat all that cake?
She. (Laughs) I’m making you toast. You need some toast.
Him. Want me to go home?
She. Maybe.
Him. Should I eat that stupid cake or come fuck with you? Baby? I’m sorry. I should leave you alone. All right. I’ll go eat the cake.

(The Boogie Kings come on Pandora with “When She Touches Me.”)

Him. (Takes his shirt off and throws it at her) You hate me?
She. Kinda’
Him. I hate you too. (Pause) Baby, come here.

(She moves over to a chair, and sits down with a notebook writing this all down. He moves into the bed.)

Him. Baby?
She. Uh huh?
Him. You gonna’ chill down there for a bit? You having fun writing in your little notebook?
She. Uh huh.
Him. I’m just gonna’ keep chasing you.
She. Why?
Him. (Sighs) I don’t know.
Him. Baby, come here!
She. No.
Him. Why?
She. Cause’
Him. Mmm… cause’ I bug you?
She. No.

(Long pause)

She. Babe. Baby?
Him. Yeah? Uh huh?
She. Go to sleep.
Him. Shenanigans! You just said that to fuck with me.
She. (Ignores)
Him. Come kiss me and be nice. (Pause) When you’re done writing?
She. Yeah.
Him. Babe? What’s going on? (Pause) Can you come here or just writing?
She. Just writing.
Him. (Sighs)
She. I have to go brush my teeth.
Him. No you don’t. Come here and let me kiss your face. Brush them in the morning.

(Long pause)

Him. (To the dog)  Come here. Yeah, you’re a good dog. Come here. I know. Oh Bailey. Your mom is a wild stone.

(He passes out)

It was July. And the whole night had been hot. Too hot to hold each other like rope.

It had only been a few weeks since this whole thing had started; so we still felt like something very new coming out of a very used box. We woke up in a sweat. Each of us had nothing concrete to do, for the day, but both of us had a long list of self-imposed artistic chores that we hoped would validate us. Maybe because of the sweat, or the heat, or the need to touch each other, we both decided to get in my car and head to Malibu—instead.

And so we left towards a beach he hadn’t been to before where he would wear his underwear and I would wear my bathing suit, but feel uncomfortable in my body—with too much shape.

In the sand he told me stories about doing shrooms with his two Indian friends—back in San Francisco—and how they almost got eaten up, right off a pile of rocks, by the bay. As he spoke, his arms flailed about like a conductor and I remember thinking how much I loved this brokenness he carried around with him.

But I hated his ex-girlfriend. I hated the idea of her. His idea of her. That would be something I’d never get passed.

We sweat majority of the summer: In the car ride, during the talking, on the sand, and through our whole relationship—except for that day in the water. He usually hated the water. But that day he didn’t mind. Not for a little bit.

That would be the first, and last time we ever went in the water.

A few rad dudes, Ryan Snow, James Cerasani, and Doug LaCombe just launched their very own L.A. based art magazine titled DEBACLE. This quartly art book  features local L.A. artist’s paintings, stories, poems, photography, and more. Check out the first issue, “Isolation.” Inside you will find my story, “Le Petit.”

Submit your work and subscribe!

It’s rare that I write about things to do or places to go; however, I find two things worthy of entering into your iCal. I won’t gush on and on but I suggest that everyone of you get up tomorrow, recover from previous night’s hangover, and make your way to:

OPEN STUDIOS

A group of amazing artists are opening up their studios, in their RAD downtown building, to host a daytime gathering.

(And to my understanding, “The Taco Guys” who frequently cook outside Thirsty Crow and, the famous, “Bacon-Wrapped-Hotdog-Lady of Silverlake” will be stationed there).

…

VILLAINS  TAVERN

Next Thursday Night—GO.

Authentic drinks, southern-voodoo-esque atmosphere, and a band called “The LA Hootenanny” perform on Thursdays. Trust. You’ll feel completely immersed in an episode of True Blood. As described perfectly last night, “It’s a little slice of amazingness.”

…

please don’t answer
please don’t answer
please don’t answer

(voicemail)

success

We got there at 4 a.m.
Lying in bed I said,
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

We never sat on the beach
We never went to the Boardwalk
We never took photos
We never looked around, all at once, and fell in love with the time

“Come on now.
You’re just stoned,”
You said. Then you paused to give it some thought.
“We’re just four really self-absorbed people,”

We did drink like fish
We did two grams of coke until all the powder ran dry (poof gone)
We did accuse one another of stealing majority of the coke
We did meet new friends and old friends met us there

Gladly we jumped into the car to come home
And you said, “Santa Cruz kicked my ass.”
Then I corrected, “I think you kicked Santa Cruz’s ass.”

We all never gave one another a chance

Looking back,
I had been walking out since I walked in.
You hadn’t.
I had, I said.

It took you a long time
But you arrived.
I waited, like a dog by the window (to be walked),
For months.

Now

It seems that there is nothing left but dust.
And it will settle.
Eventually.