fucking hell last night feels like a dream to me now...maybe it's because i was tripping on opiated hash. but it was only a little trip--the stuff in fitz's foil pipe was pretty much burnt up by the time i got to it.

i sat between them on the red couch, my feet swinging in the air like the kid i no longer am...

she was beautiful and so was he. it was like sitting next to famous celebrities. i tried to explain it to raymi, how meeting her was like meeting kurt cobain.

"it's just like that, really. i mean, i'm not trying to say that you are like him, like you're crazy and on drugs or something...no, it's not like that, that's not what i'm trying to say."

raymi smiled and nodded her head.

"what i mean, is that i admire you both so much--even though he's dead, you know, i still admire him...you both are so real in your art, i mean, he was so real...shit, what am i saying?"

"don't you think you're putting a lot of expectations on her?" jamie said to me. his eyes were shining.

"no, no," i said, laughing like an idiot. "really i'm saying the exact opposite...i'm saying i admire her so much that i have no expectations...she can just sit there and do nothing and it's great..."

i looked at raymi, my face flushed from having spoken about her in the third person. she looked back at me out of the corner of her eye. then she smiled and nodded again.

"OK," she said. there was a warmth and understanding in her voice that i felt certain i didn't deserve.

at that point there was a lull in the conversation and they reached for their drinks and i closed my eyes, zoning out to the vibe radiating from their bodies and the sounds of the seashore that played on repeat in my head…the crashing waves, the squawking gulls…it was a beach world in there, a piñataland stuffed solid with candy and fun times .

In my head I was ready to bust it wide open…in my head I was ready to grab the mic and tear shit up and show them both that i was everything i said i was...a rebel, a warrior...

(Der Krieger)

(BRANDTRUEBOY)

But in my body I felt sick… my breathing was labored, as though there was a large weight strapped across my chest.

(it’s a heavy box, a heavy, heavy box…)

I think it was because I had just read the testimony of that 13 yr old kid who got shot by the sniper last year.

The bullet went in through his left armpit and ripped a diagonal path across his entire body—through his lung, his diaphragm, his liver, spleen and pancreas…

I pressed my fingers against my eyelids and tried desperately to get back into character.

"hey look, you can see that girl's underwear," raymi said.

i opened my eyes and looked straight ahead and saw that she was right.

"totally," i said.