I ain’t passed the bar, but I know a little bit.

…enough that I don’t put up with this shit.

come on. you should know better than this.
you’ve watched me storm around the bar with a 12-inch Maglite, yell in the face of drunk fraternity boys three times my size, hit a guy, shove a guy, and push a guy to the ground outside. You’ve watched me verbally thrash someone and make someone feel like the uneducated tool they are with one raised eyebrow.
You heard about my degree.
You’ve seen my scarred knuckles.

You’ve laid me off for no reason other than your own spite and ignorant impotence.

Don’t you think for one minute that I’ll be quiet, that I’ll be meek, or that I’ll be cooperative.

Fuck you, sir. Fuck you and your grabby-handed, ambiguously Latino-accented small-man syndrome.

Fuck you, ladies, who watched it happen and made light of it.

Fuck you, coworker, whoever you may be, that flipped me over to them to save your own stagnated, minimum-wage job.

When I’m making more money than I could get out of you in the lawsuit, and when you hear me on your radio, and when you try to explain to your spouse why you’re getting cleaned out by a twenty-two year old on a mission, I hope you remember the petty joy you felt when you undermined me, watched me squirm and retracted my shift hours.

You should’ve known better.

and the raincoat that you wore when it rained today, i think it only made it rain more.

knee-deep in procrastination.

here in, what appears to be
the-condiment-and mustache nation.

ski caps, cigarettes, and the taste of
fermentation.

in the backlit windows up ahead
a girl folds laundry, takes breaks to text.
boo to college.
i’ll write poems instead.

making like glade, with this awesome plug.

vote for me for best waitress in bellingham.

www.cascadiaweekly.com

xoxo hanna

and in a couple years they’ve grown into a perfect family.

my new apartment is nice, but strange. when i got home at 3:30 AM after work, it was unbearably lonesome and quiet. usually, the outside world, the place between work and home, is that way, but then it’s all better when i come home and someone else is there.

which once again supports my belief that indiana is amazing. he’s really good company, for the most part.

so are ceiling fans.

and comic books!

and pirated internet.

unfortunately, i’m so spoilt, that i actually groaned when my thieved connection to a non-existent web of communication was too slow to support the viewing of any media on netflix instant. boo.

i had a really good weekend playing house with zach again. the novelty never wears off, especially when rollerblading in the house and eating ice cream for breakfast are on the agenda.

i love you! move to bellingham. jobs are stupid.

xoxo hanna

give us those nice, bright colors; give us the greens of summers; makes you think all the world’s a sunny day.

a peek for everyone, because i’m trying to be positive.

and because everything you fill a new house with has lived somewhere else before.

and because you can’t spell “cartography” without “art.”

and because i’m not the only one moving.

and because everything, even beds with ladders, come full-circle.

still moving. last night was really strange. we stayed in my new yellow studio.

all of our furniture is in a storage unit fifty miles away.

and our old apartment empty, except for the all the little debris that’s left after a storm blows through.

we’ve spent the day sorting through the damage, drinking beer and wondering where the rest of our life went.

but tonight we both have to go back to work so i guess life will be the same there as it always was.

wish us luck.

xoxo hanna

(and zach and indi)

yours is the only version of my desertion that I could ever subscribe to

here are a few great things:

-indiana.

-interpol.

-wheat thins. (esp. when you can stand in front of your refrigerator with a box of wheat thins tucked under your arm and systematically go through the condiments and other assorted fridge fare and dip them in anything you notice.)

-family.

-specifically, my family. more specifically, my hero/grandfather. what a fucking man. DAMN. he is, i believe, mostly responsible for any awesomeness that i bear. or any of us, really. him and my own father. Mom, we got real lucky for a family full of hard-luck white-trash/ immigrants and others searching for political/religious/linguistic asylum.

-public radio.

-making friends.

-having a job that makes me not really care if it’s a work day or not, because i know it will be funny either way.

-bourbon.

-beer.

xoxox

the kids don’t stand a chance.

MY JOB IS RIDICULOUS.

i love it.

every night, i get at least…

-two men giving me their phone number. one of them is usually over the age of thirty five, and the other, under 20.

-3 notes written on napkins, receipts or dollar bills.

-4 comments on my bicept tat. half just ask if i’m irish and i assume that’s what they’re asking about.

-and half a dozen people i’ve gone to school with, worked with, or who recognized me from Rocket Donuts. townie, much?

_________________________________________________

additionally, we kick someone out about….every third night.

and when you’re out, you’re out for life! suckaaaaahs.

and it’s a pretty good thing that i like my job right now, because….

everything else is bordering on too sad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tonight imma go out and get real drunk.

apparently, my boy from work also works the door at a really skeezing bros and hos bar up the street.

so i’m putting on my clubwear (HELLA) and drinking cocktails with stupid shit on the rims. GROSS.

….did i mention that zach is gone for a few days?

when i got up and realized it made me really sad.

hence, the tarting up and going out.

xoxo ME

don’t, don’t break the spell. it would be different and you know it will.

i like being liberated from keeping conventional hours.

time isn’t so much linear these days, as much as a commodity.

that is, when i can snatch it and take it to bed with me, i will.

and i can count it, until it makes change- start work, get off work, things close, things open.

and i can buy a little more, or spend a little more, depending on what my needs are.

and i can manipulate it to fit said needs.

and for once it feels like the supply is equal to the demand.

it helps that in bellingham in the summer, it is mostly light out from about 4:30 AM to 10:30 PM.

the only issue with this is that most people still do their business in the day, and their sleeping in the night.

_______________________________________________

additionally, i found a large-ish casio keyboard on the side of the road.

it’s amazing.

hopefully by august i’m a musical genius. though mostly i think i’ll be making crappy beats to go with my crappy lyrics. ya hear me?