: Now it’s five of us including A. and I run around looking for Star Beach. The sign is a blue tower, entrance dark and boisterous. Karaoke, the boys swing around to talk. Love is a losing game. Molested like my body was my jacket and someone searched for my wallet. That tightly wrapped desire, like radiation, encased in concrete, dumped in the ocean, and it’ll still find its way to the surface. Can’t find my pillow. Exhausted.
* * *
Left the kerosene heater on, burning 18 degrees through the night. Might still be drunk. A downloading frenzy. The day whirs forward and the creeper creeps. Maybe this isn’t worth it. Alcohol depression is the most depressing. I know what I should do. Y. calls from Osaka Airport, “It’s boring here,” he said. “Flight leaves in half an hour,” “Did you speak with T.? I told her about the movie,” I don’t know what this could mean. Am I in for it? And why do I care so much? The Office, The Mentalist, Damages, Battlestar Galactica.
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