hot night in brooklyn

at the urging of my high school boyfriend, a blog is born. what the fuck?

this is the first night i can remember that i'm glad to be laying on my mattress and boxspring, with a thriftstore sheet and an open window, here in north brooklyn.

maybe it's the prospect of leaving this sweatlodge-with-the-seat-up and moving into a breezy 4th floor apt and leaving this fridgeless boy-pad behind. or maybe it was the three nights spent in my most recent hometown of Portland Maine, with the closest thing i'd had to a home life in weeks, salad, fresh stirfry, familiar faces, cats, tea, naps and giggles. or the evening beers and the confidence that comes with having scored good seats at the bar before it got crowded, then finding my way back home like a pro on the foreign streets and subways.

i'm living out of suitcases. for a few months anyway, to see if i can follow through on a recent promise i made to myself to always be in a place where I am proud of myself and moving forward.

whose going to read this anyway?