At penn state I started my mornings with smoke – two long cigarettes and a few coughing tokes from a poorly rolled j – I think the only way to cope with a climate that’s damp, gray and cold in a body that’s already feeling too old to scam on girls in uggs and leggings (no pants). A shame that my concept of what romance demands stems from black-and-white photos and Algonquin club quotes. If Dorothy Parker were my age, she’d take a blade to her throat and then bleed on her keyboard and last page of notes written with a touch that is lost to the ages – the elegant curves, the delicate ways it moves over the page (it more dances than lays) and of course, not the least – but the things she was saying.

Penn state was vodka and football and stuff.

~ by perfectionatrix on January 6, 2011.

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