Thursday, July 28, 2016

Petit monstre

I'm slowly gathering my thoughts behind closed blinds and sheer curtains. They help me keep my bedroom cool so I can sleep through these melting summer nights. I wear too much clothes in bed and drink too many bottles of wine in the mornings, but it's the only way I have of staying sane (or something close to it).

I'm replaying dinner with the neighbors in my mind, how they looked at me when I came in, wondering if I wore that pink underwear set underneath my bone white halter neck dress like they asked me to. "He wants to fuck you" she said, "and I will let him as long as I can watch".

I have to go back home soon but the thought of LA and Silver Lake scares me more than the dark woods between the sea and the mountains along this innocent coastline. I haven't seen mother in years now, she calls me sometimes but I ignore her and the voicemails she records. I have a feeling she just wants me to tell her that everything will be just fine.


Monday, July 4, 2016

Hollywood youth

I've been writing and rewriting this post a million times but I'm struggling to find the right words (or any words at all). I've been anxious my whole life but this nagging feeling is something new. I'm afraid of the dark and the light, of shadows and sunshine. Of them and of myself.

I drink far too much thinking I'll be able to sleep but it doesn't work, not for more than an hour or two anyway. Instead I keep waking up unable to breathe, not knowing if it's night or day. I'd ask for help but I don't know what to tell them, other than to make it go away.

It might have been a dream but I think I talked to S and she told me to come back to LA. Maybe I have to, maybe it couldn't hurt, maybe it's what I'll eventually do as soon as I find a way out of this whirlwind.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Behind enemy lines

She knocks on my door at 6 PM, far less distinctively than I thought she would. I haven't seen her in days, just him in his bone white linen pants and Paisley shirt, hiding those subtle glances behind a pair of shades from the early 70's.

She keeps her arms crossed in front of her while she speaks with her tenderly French accent. "Avy" she says (how does she know my name?), "we were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner on Friday. We're making Moules". I know it's a trap but I'm walking straight in to it just to see what she's capable of doing to me.

She nods absently as if to add something to my confirmation but instead starts walking slowly back to their apartment. Just as I'm about to close the door behind me she turns around, a hint of a smile on her fairytale face and in her voice. "Oh, and we'd love it if you wore that underwear set, the pink one. It's so fucking adorable".




Monday, June 6, 2016

I like you a lot

I rented a car and went away for a while, looking for something I hadn't already seen. Story of my life I guess. I found nothing and came back unmoved to the house and the young French couple and my afternoon hours in the sun.

The height of summer is coming closer, days are longer and warmer and the colors of the houses along the coastline somehow seem a shade brighter. They passed by me earlier today, on their way to the beach, on my patio in my underwear like before I left (some things never change). I dozed off in the sun and woke up in his shadow, kneeling behind me with his hands on my shoulders and his whispering voice sharply in my ear: "I need to know what your pussy tastes like".

It's exactly what I asked for but I never thought he'd actually do it. This could turn in to a fun week after all.













Saturday, May 7, 2016

Falling down

Even though we're on the edge of the ocean I'm the only one here that never goes swimming. It's not that I'm afraid of the currents or the waves, I just don't trust myself. When I was little in LA, even before my father died, I would go as far out toward the horizon as I could, just to feel what it would be like to never come back.

I did it with Chloe too, later, almost like a game we played in the dark when everyone else had gone home. Gin and medication made it even easier, we would hold hands under the surface and watch the moonlight in each others eyes until we were warm enough to swim back to the shore and the sand and the city.

Last night I woke up early and went down to that little stretch of beach just beneath the house. I stepped out of my shoes and walked slowly in to the ocean as if in a dream, so far I had to hold my summer dress up over my thighs, the cold water touching me between my legs like a skillful tongue. I've learned that nothing really compares to being just inches away from letting go completely.





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