dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Sunday, February 17, 2008


Last night I got a phone call from a very important person from my past. I hadn't had any type of contact with her in about 14 years, but I never stopped thinking about her. She's a violinist and lives in Santa Barbara. She plays violin freelance, mostly at weddings. She lives in a trailer park between two old deaf people, so she can practice at four in the morning. I found out how her sister is doing and that she's no longer in touch with her dad (which I'm sure is a good thing). We talked about Argentina and a skateboard I have her a long time ago. I told her something I still felt guilty for all these years, and she didn't ever remember it.

All night I dreamed about her. The phone call was like a dream. She told me, "My cell phone battery is going to run out, so don't think I hung up on you," and the battery did run out when we started talking about Morocco.

She gave me her address, and I'm going to send her a zine. I know I won't be able to resist writing her a letter too.


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