My MSN horoscope said I’d meet someone new, who would show me something with a new (positive)perspective, and that I shouldn’t force the relationship but also shouldn’t blow this person off completely. Someone who introduces you to your new self. Horoscope was right. Right horoscope. I trust MSN. MSN’s got good astrology. I’d like to scream and laugh with people like this again.

My birthday’s in a month. (I don’t care about birthdays because everyone’s been born, but I’m going to be 25.) 25 isn’t old but it’s strong. It’s… there. Something to not ignore. If your life were a career, (it is), 25 is your interview day. Or it’s your second, more real job. I’ll wear a business suit that day. I hate when friends go out for dinner and then they sing happy birthday. How they/you spend money at some chic Thai place (even though I like Thai) and bring out some fancy-fancy small chocolate thing with colorful drizzles across the plate. I don’t want that. How do I tell them I don’t want that?

I always wanted to be 25. Or midtwenties. In real life? I’m actually 45. I’m actually a woman with long maybe grayish hair in a long linen dress standing on the third floor of an old house. Even the third floor has a veranda and the air is HOT. And no one’s bothering me. And I have this bed with red sheets and this desk and this vanity on which sits all my perfumes. I knew few people in this strange place, but they’re all really nice and we’ll become better friends soon. The road is a dirt road, but more Greece-dirty road, not Mexico-dirt road. (Just to specify.) It’s Hot out. And my fingertips are hot.


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