Summer Mix

Yep. Now it's official. Everybody's life seems much more interesting than mine. No. That's a lie. Everybody seems much better at talking about it. Or else I just read too much Francesca Lia Block in high school, and anyone who sounds like they're living it is magic.

I always forget how to spell "magic".

The boys hae farmers tans. Not Eric, because he works at a desk and only wears his spring berak shirts in the house. Not Sam either, but I cannot picture Sammy with a tan of any kind. Liam's is the worst. Or best, depending which way you look at it. I have the tan which only appears when you stick my arm next to people who live in urban caves.

I keep trying to make a summer mix. I keep forgetting all the songs I think of. The only song I can always remember is "America", Simon and Garfunkel. That's probably because it usually makes me cry.

I watched "Almost Famous" again the other day, laying on Suzie's floor, on top of her body pillow, trying to forget my hangover and turning up the air conditioner. Probably every 20 minutes of that movie made me cry. Especially the part when they play "America", which is what reminded me of the song. God that movie is so good.

I remember, when I was in high school I talked about making a "mix tape", and my much cooler friend turned to me, and informed me in a very stern voice, that they are always called "comp tapes", or "compillations", but never, EVER are they called "mix tapes", unless you don't know what you're talking about. Some lessons can never be learned.

A bad idea is to go through your old emails which you have saved from people you thought would always be important. Some doors are meant never to be opened again, or, if they are, don't open them with the expecation that whatever you find won't matter. Time passed glorifies everything.

I'm trying to work on posture again. My mom always said that if you slouch, one day you'll stick that way, and I saw an old woman in Brooklyn with a hunched back so bad it made me terrified, and I realized that every time I sit I am too lazy to sit up straight, and I don't want to become 40 and realize that my shoulder blades are rotating outwards and my spine is overtaking my back like an angry snake and have nothing I can do about it. So I keep reminding myself. Sit up. How are you sitting? Sit up more.


Sometimes I realize I am living in moments that will be nostalgic later on. I'm never sure exactly what to do in those moments.
I love this house. I love these people. I love drinking mexican beers, and playing two dollar poker, and trying to spoon a dog who doesn't care, and chasing roaches, and sitting in the alley, and having computer parties, and always finding someone in the living room, and watching how everyone hugs eachother goodbye before they leave, and getting advice and listening to advice and giving advice, and eating weird George Foreman burgers together, and playing TekkenTag and God of War, and listening to Sammy's songs for the 900th time, and doing all the dishes and feeling like the stay-at-home housewife, and being sweaty, and napping in the King's Chair, and taking the train en mass, and knowing that it's still only the middle of July. One day, though, this summer is going to end.

I write so much on the internet and so little on my own. Something to try.