Friday, January 18, 2008

Irv, where are you?

Dear Irv,

It's me, Kwan.  

Happy New Year, except I don't know where the hell you are!  The San Francisco police don't have you anymore.  They won't speak to me about you.  Even the fat kid, Marcus, says he doesn't know.

Everything seemed like it was going fine just a few months back.  You and I were together and we were going to do something with our lives.  How quickly things can change, right?

I paid that extortionist bald guy from the Pole Dance Palace five thousand dollars last week. Happy New Year my ass.

It was raining so hard and now that sun is out again, I don't feel it inside.  Things change too quickly.  When I was a little girl in Vietnam my father bred geese.  He had over five hundred geese in a huge shack out by the mountains.  It was hard to make them breed with each other, because geese are very inhibited.  Sometimes you'd have to physically place one goose on top of the other one to get them to mate.

One day, my little brother opened the gate and all the geese ran out onto a mine field that the army had not yet cleared from the war.  Well, we found out where all the mines were, and feathers caught in our hair in the wind, but we lost most of the geese.

My father was never the same after that.

And, Irv, I guess I'm trying to say, that this year is starting out ass-backwards for me.  No campaign.  No job.  No home soon.  And No Irv.

Make an entry here, or call me.

Kwan

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