We ate at the Indian restaurant last night. It was a reward for just having the idea. There's a look Josh and I give each other. We put on our shoes. We close the blinds. We go out on the porch. Josh holds the screen door while I lock the front door. We ready ourselves for joy.
Josh felt guilty about it last night, so he asked if I was sure. He couched it in terms of addiction. He asked me to provide a quick list of pros and cons. "We have to eat," I said. "But do we have to eat Indian food?" he said. "We could be good and eat cereal and bananas."
There is only so much time we have on this earth to eat Indian food.
While we ate we talked about the man at the art fair who saw a photographic triptych and said, "I heard you can do that on your phone now." Josh cuffed my forearm and squeezed. He could have had a baby ready to come out. Did I hear that guy? I heard that guy.
An artist who guarded art with me one summer was at the restaurant. He is an art prince. He came over to our table and complimented my book. I had the taste of buttered lentils on my tongue. His name is Matt Jacobs. Get a clue, you guys. Look him up and love him. Someone in a position of authority once admitted to me that she lusted after Matt's swimmer legs.
If I ever work the register at a liquor store, I'll put out a tray that says, "TAKE A SECRET, LEAVE A SECRET."
It doesn't get old. These attractive men who've read my book and say so. They look as if they've just stepped out of the shower to tell me to keep up the good work. Three times and as many men at that very restaurant. If you wanted to do sympathetic magic on me you could do it in the restroom there. If there are such a thing as ley lines, that's where they lay. Write your desire on toilet paper and flush it. I suggest you give it a while, though. A friend is already doing some witchcraft to lure me to Seattle. She is such a powerful witch that she once convinced an entire town in Montana to hate her.
I'm sorry my snake is not a cat. But look how uncanny she is as a noose. And it's not even Halloween.
Here's a story I wrote because a cute boy asked me to write it: RIGHT THERE IN KANSAS CITY.