A nonsensical email from Matt with five unrelated and outdated songs and no text in the body spurred this post. The sense that I am being "included" on some "inside joke" that was born, no doubt, of one "POTLUCK" that I am not present at is my main motivation. While people revel (with a desperation only matched this time last year) in Brooklyn and one Nicole Carty makes the lonely pilgrimage to Brown to tend to her "babies," I again find myself detached from the cling-related activities of this fateful weekend.
I am in Atlanta. I spent a good part of the day sweating and a good part of the night driving through a crowd of drunken high schoolers who had been let loose on my street. I drove in awe. One blond boy approached my car and I rolled up the window in haste but not before he could catch the bass-heavy Ciara I was blasting. We locked eyes. I think I got the message across.
I am now fielding belligerent texts from Dani, who is no doubt wasted at the "POTLUCK." I suppose I will have to continue to deal with such bizarre, nonsensical, sometimes hateful contact from the potluck-goers throughout the night. They miss me..we cling on.
I am in Atlanta. I spent a good part of the day sweating and a good part of the night driving through a crowd of drunken high schoolers who had been let loose on my street. I drove in awe. One blond boy approached my car and I rolled up the window in haste but not before he could catch the bass-heavy Ciara I was blasting. We locked eyes. I think I got the message across.
I am now fielding belligerent texts from Dani, who is no doubt wasted at the "POTLUCK." I suppose I will have to continue to deal with such bizarre, nonsensical, sometimes hateful contact from the potluck-goers throughout the night. They miss me..we cling on.
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