i just found out one of my oldest and dearest friends (and one of my first female lovers) just killed herself. oh god.
update: okay, talking to friends I haven’t spoken with in years and making plans for friday’s memorial. not crying and shaking so much anymore; going out to see the SFSI crew later for hugs, drinks, kisses.
image: I miss you, I love you.
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I’ll try to confine my blogging-as-coping-mechanism to this one post.
when I met her in 1994 she worked at my home-away-from-home cafe in upper haight (the blue front; fuck I might have to go tell them, argh). I worked at buffalo exchange where I honed my hate for corporations and learned to steal better. she was that hot goth girl; we became friends fast. she had a laugh that made everyone laugh too, and I modeled my laugh after hers. we found out we both had a crush on the cute skater boy that worked at the video store across the street (into video). her and I were crushed out on each other, too. I was drawing and painting a lot then. sometimes at night she’d come over after her shift at the cafe, take off her clothes and I’d draw her. I never wanted her to put her clothes back on, and she never wanted to go home.
she helped out at the SRL shop during the 1998 under the overpass show.
through all of our many life changes, she’d sometimes come over and take her clothes off for me. I’d send away whatever boyfriend I had at the time because I didn’t want to share her with anyone. I never liked her boyfriends, and she always liked mine. after a hard night at work once, she came over and took her clothes off. I put handcuffs on her. she was beauty; in handcuffs I put my arms around her hips and pressed my face into the soft place between her hips. her sigh sounded like “home”.
I called the skater boy and we spoke for the first time in many years. I just got an email from him saying that he’s coming (from LA) for the weekend, and he’ll be staying with/going to the memorial with me. I’m so glad, I can’t imagine going to the memorial friday without him.
thank you all for your emails, and know that even if my reply is quick it’s sincere.
I’m wondering how many times my heart can be broken this month. I guess I’ll know when this hateful fucking month is over.
