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antiquecompass · 4 years

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Untamed Spring Fest Day 7: Pastel

Wherein there is hair dye and easter egg hunts. Of a sort.

Mo Xuanyu had given his hair a rest over the winter. It’s something he did every few years, knowing that no matter how much product and head massages and professional shampoos and serums he used, dyeing his hair as often as he did wasn’t good for it, especially turning his naturally dark brown hair to his favored pastel colors. He still had some color of course. Hair chalk, little strands of hair tinsel, and even the old Kool-Aid method when he was bored, but by the time April rolled around it had been nearly six months since he’d dyed his hair. And to celebrate the coming of Spring, he decided to go full on mermaid hair.

At least, that was his intention when he’d left the house this morning for his appointment with Sunny.

“Can I try something new?” Sunny asked when he got there. “It’s called ‘oil slick.’ We’ll still give you the colors of the rainbow, but with less bleaching.” She ran her hands through his hair. “It’s just so healthy right now.”

“Your hard work,” he praised her.

“Yours too,” she said.

“Pictures?” he asked.

She handed him a tablet and he quickly thumbed through the references there. It was gorgeous and stunning and while not his normal pastels, still beautiful. He wanted it. Even if the coming of spring usually meant pastel for him, he could just paint his nails various easter egg colors. This was something different and exciting. He wanted to try it.

“Do it,” he said.

Sunny grinned at him, as bright as her name. “This is why you’re my favorite client.”

He was one of her first, back when they were both going through beauty school together. Her trying to raise a kid on her own and get her certifications; him trying to juggle beauty school and art school at the same time. They’d bonded over too much work and too much stress. He’d often volunteered to let her experiment with his hair and she’d always let him experiment on her with various make-up looks. It was a friendship that had grown from those early class days to years later; Sunny a renown hair stylist and Xuanyu an established part of the art scene, both in the theater and for his make-up looks. Make-up outside of his theater work was still more a hobby than anything else, but considering the company he kept these days, he’d ended up with a following on all his social media.

“Our lives are strange,” he said as Sunny nodded. “As soon as I get this done, you know you’re going to get people flocking here.”

“As long as I don’t fuck it up,” Sunny said.

“You won’t fuck it,” Xuanyu said. “And even if you do, we’ll make it work.”

**********

Sunny had not fucked it up. His appointment took far longer in the end, and even when she tried to refuse, he made sure to tip her double because they were friends, but this was still

business

and she’d done such an amazing job. She deserved to be more than compensated for taking up two entire blocks of her time. He couldn’t stop checking his hair as he waited for his ride to arrive.

Even if it had been two--nearly three--years since that summer, the one where everything changed, the Nies and most of Springfield Security had adopted Xuanyu as their own and were just slightly paranoid about his safety. With their impending wedding next-next winter, it had been decided by family council or, really, an entire group of stubborn assholes, that Xuanyu needed a driver. There were battles Mo Xuanyu would always fight; hills he would always die on; going against the over-protective instincts of the entire Nie family and most of its employees? Not even worth trying. Sometimes it was easier to give in.

The car that eventually pulled up was one of the standard Springfield Security fleet vehicles. When he opened the passenger side door, he was pleasantly surprised to see Zonghui behind the wheel.

“I thought you were still working a job,” he said as he settled in.

“Just finished this morning,” Zonghui said. He waited for Xunayu to buckle his seatbelt and then pulled out into traffic. “And I’m on another one now, or at least a family mission.”

Xuanyu glanced in the back and saw one of his overnight bags resting on the seat.

“Am I being kidnapped again?” he asked.

“Whisked away at the very least,” Zonghui said. “One last vacation for you two before the start of, what does he call it, hell season?”

Weddings. So many weddings. Golden Canary Events wasn’t even a wedding planning business and yet, because of his reputation alone, Huaisang had become one of the most sought after wedding planners in New England. For his own sanity, he only accepted seven weddings a year and most of those hit in either May or June.

One last weekend of peace and calm and nothing but the two of them? Yes, please.

“And this out of the way destination just so happens to be on your way to….”

Zonghui shook his head and groaned. “Not you too.”

“I’m just saying, considering the direction we’re going, I’m assuming it’s Huaisang’s favorite cabin, which just so happens to be in the same direction as the secluded mountain house Carson calls home, and, if I remember what my brother muttered over breakfast this morning correctly, Carson is currently on sick leave.”

Zonghui sighed. “He’s all alone out there.”

“No one to hear the screams, I suppose,” Xuanyu teased him.

“We’re just---we haven’t--I’m just concerned,” Zonghui said.

“Of course,” Xuanyu agreed. “Well, Jade Palace in the next town over has marvelous egg drop soup. If you’d want to get it, just to check on him, because you’re concerned and all.”

“Thank you,” Zonghui said. “You little brat.”

“Well, honestly, we’ve been in this car for nearly ten minutes already and you haven’t said a thing about my hair.”

It was nice to hear Zonghui laugh, his words muffled and broken as he tried to keep his eyes on the road and give Xuanyu the most saccharine sweet compliments through the wheezing breaks in his laughter.

*********

The cabin looked empty when he arrived. Xuanyu shrugged it off, figuring something had kept Huaisang in Boston. Xuanyu crouched down and shook the little turtle that served as their hide-a-key, palming the key and walking inside, quickly shutting off the alarm as he entered. He jumped back in shock as something crunched under his boot. He lifted it up and found a plastic easter egg there, a slip of paper falling out of it and its candy contents spilling out over the floor. He quickly gathered up the fallen Hershey Kisses and Hugs, before reading the slip of paper.

Huaisang’s beautiful calligraphy took up the entirety of the slip.

Come and see

Xuanyu dropped his bag on the couch and looked up in awe. The outdoors had been brought inside, the walls and ceilings decorated with greenery and flowers--fabric of course, but so lifelike. By the couch was a large, empty, pastel-colored easter basket and at the other end was another egg.

“I love that man,” Xuanyu told the room as he started his own little easter egg hunt.

Sixty-six eggs and another basket later (one egg for each month they’d known each other), Xuanyu finally found himself in the backyard. The deck was covered in hangings, lanterns, and twinkling fairy lights. And his fiancé sat there waiting for him, a large, ornate jeweled egg in his hand.

“How did you have time to plan all this?” Xuanyu said.

“There are entire binders devoted to our courtship,” Huaisang said. “You said you never got to participate in the Jin easter egg hunts.”

“This one is far more to my tastes,” Xuanyu said as he walked over to Huaisang. He left the full baskets of plastic eggs on the table and slid into Huaisang’s lap. “You’ve got me, you know. I don’t need the wooing.”

“I like the wooing,” Huaisang said. “You like it too, my golden pheasant, and you deserve it.”

Xuanyu laughed as he caressed Huaisang’s cheek. “I’m a golden pheasant today?”

Huaisang carefully put the jeweled egg to the side. He then rested his hands on Xuanyu’s hips. “With that hair of yours, perhaps I should call you my lilac-breasted roller?”

“No,” Xuanyu said.

“My nicobar pigeon?”

“Why do you know all of these?”

“My green-headed tanager?”

“Please, stop,” Xuanyu pleaded as he laughed.

“My blue bird of paradise?”

That sounded vaguely familiar, from one of the many nature documentaries they’d watched together.

“That’s the one the dances, isn’t it?” Xuanyu asked.

“Many of them dance,” Huaisang said.

“Right, but that’s the one goes all--” Xuanyu puffed up his cheeks and waved his arms about.

Huaisang cupped the back of his neck. “Not even a little bit, but I appreciate your mating dance.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Xuanyu said.

Huaisang laughed softly as he ran a hand through Xuanyu’s hair, holding the strands up to the light. “It’s holo, bitch,” he joked.

“It’s iridescent, get it right,” Xuanyu corrected.

“It suits you,” Huaisang said. “Dare I say, I even prefer it to the pastels? The pastels are gorgeous but this almost reminds me of when we met. Your hair was indigo then.”

“I could barely speak a word to you,” Xuanyu said as he recalled that day.

“You spoke all the right ones,” Huaisang said. “Had me hooked from the start.”

Xuanyu had been worried, once, years ago, that it was just because he was pretty. That wasn’t an arrogant statement, he’d been told often enough in his life, since he was very young, just how pretty he was and it had always brought him attention--both good and bad. He hadn’t known much about Huaisang back then, but he knew of Nie Huaisang and how he liked to collect pretty things. He’d been worried that he was just another thing to add to that collection, but then Huaisang had started their slow and steady courtship. Made Xuanyu feel like an Austen heroine. Made Xuanyu feel appreciated in so many ways, all the big and little things.

And then he did things like this, when their time away was supposed to be for Huaisang to relax.

“You could’ve just ordered a pizza and left the lights on,” Xuanyu said.

“But this is so much more my style,” Huaisang insisted. He nuzzled Xuanyu’s chin. “And trust me, many of those easter eggs contain things that will bring us both some joy and relaxation.”

“And rest,” Xuanyu said.

Huaisang smirked. “Rest wasn’t my top priority.”

Xuanyu gaped at him. “There are sixty-five unread slips of paper in there.”

“Then we better order dinner and get started.”

#long post #verse: lahl #sangyu #fic: i will become what i deserve #fandom: the untamed #untamed spring fest #my ridic writing

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pixiealtaira · 6 years

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Dragged Kicking and Screaming ( 21/ 22)

Title: Dragged Kicking and Screaming

Or How Burt Hummel Mashed the Hummels and Hudsons Into One Functioning Family.

Characters(s): Kurt, Burt, Carole, Finn, with short appearances by the New Directions guys and various ops who mostly take up space. Rating: PG13 Summary: Somehow the Hummel household and the Hudson household had to come together…

Chapter One Chapter Two

Chapter three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter 6

Chapter seven Chapter 8

Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen Chapter sixteen Chapter seventeen

Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20

21.

Burt leaned back in his chair and watched. Kurt was writing and Burt was sure he’d have everything that was mentioned written down before Finn was back in the conversation. He waited a few minutes, until Kurt had stopped writing and Finn wasn’t looking like he was thinking so hard anymore before continuing on with the family meeting.

“Before we leave holidays behind,” Burt said. “Are there any other big things that are done every year?”

“Like our trip to the Hot Air Balloon Festival?” Kurt asked.

“Yes.” Burt said.

“Well, the last week of July with Aunt Mildred.” Kurt said with a sigh. “On the bright note…two of her boys were supposed to graduate this year…finally. Then there is the Hummel sledding thing that hopefully will be too far away to go to this year.”

“Now Kurt,” Burt said.

“Dad, last year at Aunt Mildred’s Wayne tied me to a tree and threw golf balls at me…which I was somehow supposed to deflect with my mind…because Wally convinced him I had magical powers.”

Finn laughed. “That sounds similar to what Jack and my cousin Amber’s little boy did to Amber’s little girl.”

“And they are how old?” Kurt said.

“I think like five and six? Amber’s kids have that bright red hair…remember? And she has that baby that is freaky because it just stares at you like it is judging you.”

“Ok…Finn, my cousins are all older than me. Granted Trent is just a bit over half a year older, but still. Oh and it is Wayne and Wally who are supposed to graduate this year. Wayne was held back two years and Wally one. Trent was held back too, but he was held back at Kindergarten time, so he is the same grade as we are.”

“Oh.”

Kurt nodded.

“I also want to make hunting season next year.” Burt said. “Lou said he missed us this year and he has a new bow for you. He’ll bring it by during Christmas break.”

Kurt smiled.

“Kurt goes hunting?” Finn said.

Kurt nodded. “I go bow hunting with my dad’s cousin Lou pretty much every year and I go with Dad and Hank with the guns every year. Last year I got grouse and two pheasants…we didn’t try for anything bigger. We didn’t get out this year at all.”

“That’s not fair!” Finn yelled.

“I’ll take you next year if you pass hunter’s ed…including the bow course if you think you want to try the bows.”

“You have to go to school for it?” Finn whined.

“Yes.” Burt said.

“Finn, anyone with a Hunting License in this state had to take Hunter’s Ed…and they passed. I’m sure you could manage.” Kurt said rolling his eyes. “We do the Car Show and Hot Air Balloon Festival and either the Monster trucks or a demolition derby. Oh and we usually manage a race.”

Burt nodded. “Add in Hank’s Birthday bash and super bowl party and Wade’s summer fling BBQ and Winter Rally Night and Jake’s Fall festival.”

“I know you missed Jake’s Festival but I went and helped with the Pumpkin Patch. Oh, and Robbie hosted a pumpkin carving party this year that they plan on making an every year thing.”

“That’s good…that boy has been trying to find a party to host for a while.” Burt said.

“So Finn? Are there any other big things you do?”

“Mom’s family has a summer campout thing?” Finn said. “Uncle Bobby finds us cabins somewhere by a lake and we all swim and play games and stuff. It is usually in July, the week after the fourth. It is all week long but sometimes we don’t stay all week. Last year I went to that football camp instead for more than half of it.”

Burt nodded and pointed at the paper for Kurt to write it down.

“Oh…Puck and I have a weekend gaming marathon the first weekend in August. Most of the time it is just us…even though sometimes that makes people mad.”

Burt nodded again. “If you think of any others come tell me. Carole…do you have anything to add.”

“No. I’m going to go back to bed…my head aches.”

“No, not quite yet,” Burt said smiling. “We need to discuss Finn and driving.”

“No. We don’t. He drives the truck and that is that. We should fill it up more often for him, though.”

“Is he legally driving that truck?” Burt asked.

Carole refused to look at anyone. “I don’t have time to drive him places and he would be teased if he had to ride the bus or ask for rides. His reputation is more important.”

“Did he take driver’s ed?”

“No. Why would he?” Carole said. “I taught him well enough.”

Burt rolled his eyes and looked at Finn.

“Finn, did you hit someone?”

“Yeah, a mailman when Mom was teaching me.” Finn said.

“What happened after that?” Burt asked.

“I wasn’t going real fast…he just kinda rolled up the hood and off the side and then mom was screaming and she pulled the wheel and made us run into a fire hydrant and we switched sides then we got out and no one was there who saw anything to tell anyone different than what she said.” Finn said.

“And what did she say?” Kurt asked.

“Oh…that she swerved to miss hitting him more centered after he walked right out into the street while not looking. She got yelled at and was supposed to see a judge but then came home after talking to a lawyer and said everything was fixed.”

“How old were you?” Burt asked.

“I’ve been driving since I was 15 and a half.” Finn said. “So that was probably when I was like almost 14 and half maybe.”

“And you have never considered you needed a license?”

“We got me a state Id. card; I don’t need one of those.”

“That’s not how it works, Finn.” Kurt said with a sigh.

“Of course it is.”

“No, it’s not.” Burt said. Burt sighed and rubbed his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Are you going to call someone about it?” Kurt asked.

“No. That’s why I can’t believe I’m doing this. Finn stops driving immediately. The truck comes to the garage and stays there and Finn starts the police run drivers education class starting in January. We go about this completely legal from this point forward…and Finn, if you talk about driving illegally at that class, they will fine you and possibly arrest you and your mother. I suggest you play dumb as a rock and say what you know of driving you learned driving in fields at your uncle’s house. Just keep quiet unless asked, answer just what you are asked, and offer no extra information. Because if you let it slip you’ve driving for years with no license, I will not cover your asses on this. Seriously, what you have both been doing is so reckless and stupid I am of half a mind to take you down right now and turn you over myself.”

“But Kurt drives!”

“Kurt is licensed and qualified and has been driving very well for a long time. And Kurt got special permission to drive at the garage starting at 12 which I had to fill out reams of paperwork for. That involved moving cars in and out of the garage and parking them. That was it for a long time. He started officially taking the same drivers course I am signing you up for the day he turned 15 and a half….just like he was LEGALLY able to and drove the required hours with company, just like he was supposed to. He got his license when he was supposed to…his honest to goodness driver’s license. And he generally follows the rules. And when something does happen, his doesn’t get his vehicle back until I allow it.”

“Like when Mercedes threw the brick through my baby’s window!” Kurt said.

“You said you lost use of your car because your dad found your tiara collection.” Finn said.

“I told Mercedes I lost the use of my baby because my dad found my tiara collection. She was feeling stupid and guilty enough as it was, I wasn’t going to be cruel and add to it. Tina and Brittany knew the real reason. No one else actually asked me. Dad’s known about the tiara collection since I started it at two.” Kurt said with and eye roll. “It also had nothing to do with my thigh length sweaters.”

“I’m not driving him, Burt. I just do not have the time.” Carole said.

“That is fine. I will drop him off at school when I head to work. Then he will certainly be on time and maybe he can put that extra time at the school to use working on his grades. I will also have someone watching so he doesn’t get up to mischief and ill behavior being there early like that.”

“You can’t do that!” Finn shouted.

“Can’t do what?” Burt asked.

“Have someone tattle on me!” Finn shouted.

Burt raised an eyebrow. “So, you generally do things that if someone were to see and tell me about it would be tattling?”

“What? I didn’t say that. I mean No. I mean…” Finn trailed off.

“Yeah…so until you pass and complete the requirements for drivers ed…which will not be lowered for you because you are over 17…someone else will be driving you places. I am not kidding Finn. Furthermore, all your driving hours will be with me. No one else.”

“But…”

“But nothing. You were reckless and irresponsible. There will be no more of this.” Burt said.

“Are you done being tyrannical, Burt? I don’t know why you think I’m going to put up with this. I will not. Finn is being treated horribly by you right now, and it is crushing him. I can’t believe all you are putting my sweet boy through today.” Carole said, pushing herself away from the table. She swayed as she stood and put her hand to her head and grimaced.

“Finn is not and he is just fine, I’m sure. Anything he has been put through today is his own fault for doing illegal things so often and getting away with crap.” Burt said.

“It’s Kurt’s fault.” Carole said. “If Kurt would just act normal…”

“Bullshit. Half of what has been discussed has been happening since long before Kurt came into the picture.”

“Nonsense, I still am not seeing problems through the whole thing.”

“Your child lies and cheats and vandalizes and drinks and skips school and is flunking classes and treats others poorly, and you are not seeing a problem?” Burt said.

“No, it’s all just kid stuff that doesn’t matter. And None of that can really be proven. Now, you are going to just stop with all this meeting whatever crap and do everything how it has been done the last few weeks and however Finn and I want it done and you will NOT discuss anything with the cops about things Finn might have been involved with at all and you will not listen to any of those farfetched lying tales your child tells you about anything Finn or anyone else has done to him. Finally you will NOT question me.” Each statement was accompanied by a stomp of her foot as Carole snapped.

“I will not, huh?” Burt asked.

“No, you will not. I am always the one telling you the truth, I haven’t been the one telling lies. Kurt has, Kurt always has been the one lying! Me and Finn are the only ones telling you the right truths!” Carole screamed.

“Good God! How long have you been playing games like this? Do you lie to me often? Or just once in a while to cover your son’s sorry ass? How often have you lied to make yourself look like the one in the right, Carole? To make Finn the one in the right? Is it all lies? Am I going to have to make you show evidence to back up anything you tell me? Was it all a sham? Is it all a sham?” Burt yelled.

“I’m going back to bed; you and I will discuss this travesty of hate towards me when I can talk without it echoing.”

“Fine…go to bed. You are right though, you and I will be discussing this all. And hopefully, we come to some sort of solution that is rational or you will be finding a new home…just the two of you. I refuse to deal with this type of behavior any longer. Either you are this hateful bratty little bitch you’ve been showing me since we got married or you are the grown mature woman I dated….who had issues apparently, but they didn’t completely rule everything and we could probably deal with those in some sane manner. I will remain married to the grown women, not the little bitch.”

Carole screamed and stomped off towards the stairs.

“We will be discussing jobs and Finn before the end of January, Carole. Don’t forget to drink some more water before you take your nap.” Burt called after her.

Burt watched as Carole swayed as she headed back up the stairs. All those times when they were dating and she begged off after evening spent with the girls she worked with made more sense, as did the days she called and canceled siting a hard day at work. He couldn’t see how he had missed it before, but then…he hadn’t been looking, he guessed. They drank very little while out together, even the few times they went to fancy places, and she’d never shown up to the get-togethers Burt hosted that had beers. He wasn’t willing to play this game all the time though, so she was just going to have to get used to less drinking at the house…And several other changes that were going to have to be made.

#glee fanfic #burt hummel #Kurt Hummel #hummel household

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queenbabyqueenbaby · 5 years

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IF YOU WEREN’T DRIVING

MARTYR’S VINEYARD I turn around at the franchise and there you are Turns out it’s easy to get out of one’s comfort zone - you just have to sit down for 10 hours with temperamental phone reception (I was starting to think of your body as USB rechargeable) Sentences starting with “your mom” lay groundwork for something derogatory, your mom’s so ugly, so lazy, so broke, so fat (I remember getting sent a news link from a journalist friend about somebody wearing a fat suit to, quote “see what it’s like to be your mom”) but that’s not the intention here At all She likes to bring up difficult subjects while we’re eating. There was alcoholic bleeding-out during pad Thai, benzodiazepine addiction over chicken, then her illegal abortion and ensuing sepsis with the scrambled eggs you made. And what is an abortion if not a kind of scrambled egg? She says “this is what we’re going to have to go back to” and she’s right and we all think about Alabama; having to look for a man holding an upside down newspaper who will, for the right price, put you in stirrups in his kitchen and pack you with too much gauze Holding the luxury-aggression of #metoo and an archaic provincial law in the brain at once is tough. If you want to dehumanise something, make it into a verb Your mother took ballet and was prescribed speed. Your mother’s romantic biography smells like garlic (she says you’re a garlic man just like your father). You have pheasants coating the inside of your room, but you’ve never seen a pheasant. I guess that’s no different to my thing with aliens I think you think I’ve come to assess your bower. Its tones are muted, and I wonder whether you know the colour brown is my favourite for courtship or whether that’s just bucolic happenstance. I give you a painting for the display arena because I more or less build a bower for myself every day except Wednesdays and I have parts to spare I sit on the porch in the rain, I take a bath, I show you the spoils of alt-right celibacy, you ask whether it has something to do with Fleetwood Mac, I say maybe. I wake every morning to my head’s questions: why are there so many trees and why am I naked? Then I answer my own question We look at flowers in the arboretum and I ruin a lot of them for you with my weakness for the abject. I just got hit on writing this by a man who said Capricorns rule the material world - maybe that’s why I can make you see toilet paper in a calla lilly You leave your keys in the ignition while we eat lobster and women tourists sing from the sound of music, failing on three counts of harmony, and I wonder whether this is what my music sounds like to you My jawline acne clears up nonetheless, you drive me around and map out the island via teenage anecdotes which is something google ought to look into doing more of Some place names are pulled straight from my country (oh, my country) and others read like typos of words which never made it through border control There are basically three types of rock: the ones we find on the beach and are now in my luggage, the clay which built the island when a glacier happened, and the songs I play you in the car going through Connecticut when I wasn’t sure of your feelings about capers Any time the place borders on quaint I hear your speaking voice and realise it’s not that simple The gingerbread houses in Oak Bluffs make me feel sick, but not homesick. It’s what would’ve happened if the 8 year old me was given a chisel and some rocking chairs, before I started fooling my metabolism and feeling the cold a lot Some of that architecture looks edible, but that’s not the kind of thing I would eat I try to explain to you and your mother how perfect the Peter Pan bus we rode to the ferry was, because in truth I wanted to be 8 forever, with or without the chisel I see your father look in your direction half lit by his online newsfeed and instead of seeing you he seems to see the last parts of himself. He makes similar noises to you after eating, except more violent and whilst eating. Your parents cause your face to make sense I collect us some bagels to eat in the car we almost didn’t rent which has the air of our 3 hypothetical young children - except I get water and Coca Cola too and I miscarry the lunch across the parking lot and then you have an aux cable ready to go so I can play the songs I hope you associate me with rather than Gilmore Girls Connecticut, to me, just looks like a huge freeway but I know that often you have to sacrifice beauty for convenience. There is a town called Mystic I like, and imagine you driving through there in a Honda when enough is enough NYC / NEARLY YOUR CAR If you weren’t driving I’d tell you that when I try to replicate some of this serenity in the city it’s a waste of time, especially when a man jerks off onto a tree and you’re worried about my “all mouth no trousers” idiom and a 12 year old boy shrugs near me saying “well, I certainly cant afford a lawyer at this stage” I remember frank o’hara on the subway when somebody says “I’m so tired and it’s brunch” and that you had that yoghurt for way too long coming from Spain and I had to ask you to throw it out when your mother declined it the way I did and your wife calls on the ferry. 3 women is enough without dairy products to think about I send you the Coke poem even though it concerns love between two men because it’s too good not to - I would’ve gone to the Frick and everything if you weren’t driving. Hell, if you weren’t driving I’d be forcing you to read the magazine with my article in, I’d ask you between paragraphs whether that makes you uncomfortable and you’d say no I’m driving If you weren’t driving I’d be driving - though with stick that’s gonna look bad when we both die in the car concertina’d like a metal accordion nuzzling the back of a Defender with a license plate reading “MY BAD” I wonder which magazines would write that up It would feel so damn incongruous with the Met Orchestra asking us to turn our pages and open our cough drops QUIETLY (cough drop ought to be a track on your next record but I won’t ask you to do this directly) especially when we see a violinist rollerblading through a red light Neither of us know much about mezzo-sopranos because we are both tobacco-baritones If I quit would you want me to bawl like that in phonetic French? To me it sounds like a fake orgasm, but perhaps to you it’s beautiful. If you weren’t driving I’d be satirising it until iced coffee runs out your nose. I’d do some kind of medley with that and the woman who followed us singing happy birthday from the bar on Sunday You get to your first art opening late when the room is empty and they switch the lights back on so you can look at Me In 2007, then you have to carry my book around like an angsty bible which is the verbal equivalent of Me in 2007. Gotta level the playing field because there’s so much of You in 2007 on the web viewable to anybody who heard Oxygen whilst on ecstasy and wanted to put a face to a name (I did this by accident with Vegas and it hurt like a slap) And to think it could’ve been a mobile phone ad, an Amazon ad, an ad-derall(?) The phrase “Gentleman of the Road” is so disgusting I almost choke on my cough drop which is also levelling since romance to me is two people making each other expel stuff from unorthodox passages. Dirty, sure, but I mainly mean soda. That way, your hand on my back means both affection and medical assistance (the two were forever fused together when I was a kid) My dealer supervises and to some extent caters your strange America-Ireland divorce summit in the corner of the Greek restaurant and you tell me it was about socialism but you’re forgetting I know you both You assure me you are a lap dog / porpoise and we look at how thin the buildings uptown have gotten. I have to be careful with the phallic now of course. But care is also, I think, bringing up the very thing you shouldn’t bring up. “Shit”, I think, “maybe I have to rephrase ‘bringing-up’ now” Still, I hope you prefer our dumb jokes to the couple behind us in Times Square with the girl saying “it’s weird cause it’s like it’s sunny and like also not sunny right now”. Was she talking about the LEDs? Can she play a D-chord below an overhead railroad of recording equipment being shipped around? Can I? That was embarrassing If you weren’t driving I’d show you the man on Avenue A sitting next to his own skeleton and we’d notice how comfortable he seems in its company, then how comfortable we seem in each other’s company and then ask whether that makes us uncomfortable, whether we’ve just signed up to months of discomfort I turn around at the franchise and you’re gone, if you weren’t driving I’d make you feel bad about that

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