2000-09-22

friday.

tired.

hung out with joey last night.

man, that boy can talk.

he has lots of stories about bouncing about from household to household in his youth... he has lots of stories about good friends from bad neighborhoods who found the right way into the wrong fates... he has lots of gripes about a particular girlfriend of five years, who was "the love of his life"... he has lots of stories about when he was addicted to heroin.

i listen to him, and nod, and wonder at the disparity between our lives.

he has a large personality, long smooth fingers and the best tattoos on his back that i have ever seen.

he is also missing one of his front teeth.

he has a tendency to talk in his sleep.

last night he woke me up when he had half sat-up, pointed his finger in the air and yelled :

MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD, YOU ARE SOOOO ON MY SHIT LIST!

"i have demons, jenn," he says to me this morning, "they haunt me when i sleep."

i want to write stories about him, but he says he wants to write his own stories. i don't blame him.

he brought his dog over to my house last night. we laid about on my bed, me drinking beer, him smoking weed, and with everything put together, i felt very calm and very not lonely, for a night.

it was very very nice.