Sunbathing

after Guillaume Dustan

Reading Guillaume again. I sunbathe on the cheap, cracking stucco balcony. I put down the thin, green Glossier-branded knit blanket I stole from my roommate last summer. I eat a blood orange sliced in a bowl with chucks of the white cheddar my sister who makes five times the amount of money I do bought from Whole Foods last week and olive oil, and honey, and salt. Roll over and stick my hand in the oily, sticky, grainy juices. I’m thin, tan, a Californian. On my period so my breasts are big. I blink incense smoke or ash or something out of my eye, my eye itches. I stare at the sun kinda. It makes reading more challenging. An orange hair from my wig last night and a real hair from my head gets in my mouth. My highlights are grown out again. I want sun-in and a pair of good, low, canvas sneakers. Out of Aperol. I drink water. I try and drink lots of water like my girl said to because she can’t fuck me because I’m in California. So I do what she says. I have to pee. I press my bladder and my breasts against the thin promotional blanket over the rough, cheap stucco of the prefab balcony. Pee a little into my pad. Turn over. Almost fall asleep.

Planets are supposed to align tonight. I don’t remember who I heard this from. My horoscope said to think about what I’m open to and what I’m closed about. I remember I’ve got this red latex top and debate wearing it tonight. I have no idea what plans are with Audrey, I want to go downtown but she’s hesitant and, hell, she’s driving. Might just go to honey’s. “AT STAR LOVE” I texted her, the stars aligning. I turn again. I feel kind of butch in my ratty period panties and no top. I wonder if I should put on a bikini, but it’s too early to tell if tan lines will be in this year.

Still hungry. Think about making tuna salad. Really I want an earl grey latte but where am I gonna get one of those. My way would be Thai style: iced, as a concentrate, with condensed milk. Then the ice melts and you swirl it around in a plastic cup with a plastic straw while you’re sunbathing. Zoe, a gorgeous woman who I once slept with with because she has the same name as me, DMs me about going to Thailand before the rainy season. I think it would be nice, my second semi-romantic semi-awkward international trip with a gorgeous woman who I’m no longer sleeping with. A pattern. If two makes a pattern. I used to carry around this stuffed tiger, whose face is particularly expressive. I thought I was crazy for this until in Berlin the girl I was no longer sleeping with told me, that tiger’s face is particularly expressive.

From here, the ground, the wrinkles in my blanket form an image of a snowy hilltop against a clear blue sky. I’m open to dreaming.