hannah, i hate you don't leave me.

so, i'm riding in the yellow school bus on the way to our class field trip tonight, thinking about blogging. (jesus. this is mamie, by the way. this blog is like the best/worst three-legged race.) and then, i'm thinking that i'm on the school bus thinking about blogging. thank god i deleted mespace, or else i'd never get any of that real writing i occasionally do done.
in all seriousness, i was looking for a way to embarrass hannah (what with her posting "sentance" so early). then i remembered that she has this picture of me where i look like a deranged carrot top. she says, "i'll do it. i'll post it at any time." really, then, the only stuff i can use is that which incriminates us both. on top of this, the district sleeps alone (tonight) has been in my head--i'm not kidding--for close to three weeks (we can all thank one mac leaphart for that.)segue.
i often eat at the bars of restaurants alone. grading papers. reading larry levis and trying not to sob. so i go into O tonight and the bartender's like, "a glass of such and such and a cheese plate?" i'm mortified. i pretend to have no clue what he's talking about. i order the opposite, whatever that is, out of sheer shock. i feel like the old couple who eats dinner at 5:15 every night. so i open a book and can't read...like when you're really hungover trying to read marquez and you read page 11 a dozen times before turning the page.
i call hannah, which is what i do when a) i can't read or b)the bartender tries to play get-to-know-each-other games. like this is what i want on a monday. so, it's like we're having dinner together. alone. which brings me to:
we have no pictures together, other than the one posted where she looks like a portuguese gangsta and i look dominant and exhausted. i hate this feeling, like our life never happened. this happened once before when morgan moved to brooklyn and there was nothing left of us. not her cat or the ford focus or our walks about the neighborhood holding mixed drinks in solo cups. it's like when you see an old boyfriend/girlfriend at a bar and merely tip your budweisers at each other. your life together never happened.
which is all to say, that was hannah talking about counting crows "across the wire." jesus. i would never admit to such a thing. although, best opening to a song ever is mrs. potter's lullabye: well i woke up midafternoon. that's when it all hurts the most...