Dark Matters

"I wear black on the outside, because black is how I feel on the inside." -Morrissey Unlovable

Surreal Moment of the week: I'm at this Memorial Weekend party with JR and BJ, when this punk-fabulous chick asks me: "Are you Courtney Love?" I feign humility and accept the title. Oh YouTube, whatever has become of me?

There's a blue moon on the horizon and I'm thinking of casting a spell. I recently picked up Paulo Coelho's The Witch of Portobello, so I'm in that frame of mind right now. I'm in need of a little escapism, especially in light of what Mitch told me he did to celebrate the long weekend.

"I smoked crystal meth and got gangbanged by a bunch of strangers in Silverlake," he said, matter-of-factly, as we sipped our morning tea. I scanned his face, desperate that he was joking, but he remained deadly serious.

"That was really stupid, Mitch. You probably caught some horrible disease."

"Nah, JR gave me some anti-biotics. I'm cool. Besides, how often do you get to pretend your Jennifer Connelly in Requiem for a Dream while getting double-fucked by multiple partners?" I didn't have a answer for that and was beginning to wish my imaginary friend was a better person. He's had moments of enlightenment, but seems to descend into very dark places all too often. I must admit that I'm jealous of Mitch, not the double penetration/gangbang thing, but of his ability to live a life free of consequences. He's like PG-13 violence, all show with no blood. This is what we teach our children. This is how we dig our graves.

I don't know yet what my Blue Moon spell will be for. Perhaps, I'll wish to put these dark matters behind me, while Mitch's bruises fade. I'm ready for a day so bright, I have to wear sunglasses all the time- like a celebrity or a cop. I'm ready for my close up.
Read me my Miranda...
Let's go.