a great man once said...

"i am unsane". holy shit, he's in prison, too.

i am obsessed. maybe it'll lead to something. penal progress. d'ya think? at least i'm not obsessed with shoes or celebrity gossip. there's no way that'd lead to anything, except maybe dumbness and numbness and plastic knowledge with a snap-shut lid. although i do know that the actor who played lt. dan in forrest gump is named gary sinise and now he's on csi: boise or csi: yellowknife or something. gad, more criminology references. i don't even think about it anymore.

i've written two letters to michael, the criminal, the genius, the friend, in two days. the more i speak to him, the harder it is to go a day or two without it. one of the most interesting things is hearing him on the phone talking to other people in prison. it's a whole other language, ebonics mixed with midwest slang, a little anger, a little tension, a little fear. and then he turns back to the phone and laughs with me about the goofy decision my parents made to stay in cancun for the hurricane based on the advice of the hotel bar staff. it's kinda scary, i almost wait to hear the crunch of him getting clocked by some angry con or a powertripping C.O. turns out he's letting the guy have some of his mayonnaise. mayonnaise. i s'pose even the incarcerated have to deal with every day things.

i often think to ask him if he has a window in his cell and if he does, what does he see out of it? can he see the stars at night? but i always forget to ask. i remember after i've sealed the envelope and dropped in in the mailbox. so i have to start a new letter just to ask that question. and then i forget again. and so on.

before he went to prison, before he started doing heroin, we'd always stare at the night sky together. for hours. until the stars faded into the baby blue of the morning sky and we'd laugh for lack of sleep and sometimes crash listening to each other breathe. the sky seemed to be mackerel more often than not. odd. he'd whisper my name as i fell asleep. i still hear it.

once i'd already fallen asleep when he called. my roomate knocked on my door to wake me. i had an exam the next day. i wanted to sleep, i told her to take a message, silence from the other side of the door. shuffling feet. could i just pick it up for a second? i picked up the phone and heard my name whispered, then "click". it's how he said goodnight.

that was a long time ago. i was probably 23 or 24. i was a turd. i told him to fuck off when he got hooked on heroin. i shoulda stuck around. maybe things'd be different, huh?

ehh this is a fuckin bullshit post. my friends suffer and cause so much grief. i s'pose it's cause everyone does.

i couldn't possibly live without them.

Currently listening: In the Aeroplane Over the Sea By Neutral Milk Hotel

Labels: mike

posted by Courtney at 9:57 p.m.

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