november 3, 2004

Chanel Banoza

november 3, 2004

a year ago. you would have found me hand in hand with a daisy trail of four. surprisingly tramping the damp grass & mud in silver ballet slippers. laughing because the lights at the carnival made everyone seem red. i'd be wearing a blue blazer which i'd pretend smelled like aftershave & cigars, but really it just smelled like me because i bought it at a second hand store. we'd all be, us four, in pajamas pink & blue & dainty. only stopping at the carnival on a break from a sleep over. the lights, like shine, attracting us. we ran. getting more gazes then we assumed. thinking we'd just blend in. but we radiated. how could anyone miss us. us-the poster girls for happy. everyone observing as a lesson how they too could climb out of the dark corner, & out of their black clothes to play.

today. i've got an oversized jacket. & i'd rather spend time watching carnivals on the screen from under a blanket. & the jacket still smells like me, but that is only because under the blankets, pressed against my skin, peering out from under to watch the four little girls running through the carnival is the owner. & he smells like me, & i smell like him. i must no longer pretend.

an uneventful monday

Chanel Banoza

an uneventful monday

downtown can be quite charming in that early morning dew. the bums & crack addicts dwindling down into shady cracks before noon sun burns them alive. the foggy sunrise reminds me of some poem i read a long time ago, saying sunsets look that amazing because of the shitty air we have...i mean, but in a more poetic manner. & besides the point...i think it's true. the buildings are dressed up in christmas lights & it reminds me a lot of the Its A Small World ride at disney land, & we went into a parking lot & circled 20 times. it felt like rides. i was warm, & awake from jolty coffee from mcdonalds & bisquits. good ones.

he looked nice in his earthy turtle neck.