||[Feb. 24th, 2007|07:16 pm]
I was given a secret to hold. It wasn't that big of a secret. It was kind of funny. The Sicilian told me something about his past as he was giving me a ride home. I'll certainly never tell. tee, hee. It just seems as though I come across as a trustworthy person. I'm not, always. There are times I feel more like a purge than being a vessel.
"I don't know why I told you that. I've =never= mentioned that to anyone else before --"
Great Googly-Moogly, if I had a dollar for every time I've heard that. I'd be rich, bitch!
I think my silence and bemused yet affectionate distance allows things to rise to the surface. He had just gotten off the phone with his girlfriend, making sure she'd be there after he dropped me off. He doesn't have a car radio anymore so we talked and made up poop songs. Then we were quiet and he talked, unasked, about his past. We are more alike than I expected. No wonder I immediately pegged him as yet another spiritual brother from the moment I met him.
He was weaving all over the road (I am =never= without my seat belt when in his car). I occasionally try to jump out of his car with the damned thing still attached, pulling my throat back.
Oh, I was looking around and found out that technically I could get a ticket for not wearing a child booster seat. Seriously: Oregon Law says anyone under 4'9" must be in a car seat or booster chair. I love it! Good thing I don't have a car anymore. I'd have to get blocks on the pedals or a booster seat. That's kind of hot. I'd get one with leopard print. Or solid lime green. I'm obsessed with that obnoxious color. I want a yellow or lime green MiniCooper, for those rich and generous people just searching the internet for someone for whom to purchase a car. Yeah. Gimme my car. I'm rich, bitch!