Chimpy Tater
Another mixtape CD
A mixtape from Amber, Summer 2008.
He met her at Minna and slept with her from the beginning of 2008 until sometime in 2009. When they met, he told her he had a girlfriend. I can't believe all the slutty men and women out there who don't care about the innocent party they are hurting. It really is a character flaw.
- - - - - - - - - -
To: HIM
From: HER
Sometime in April 2008
He captured my attention the moment I laid eyes on his startling X’X” frame. The lights
above the stage where he stood painting, reflecting off his “Mr. Clean” shaved head. I
was mesmerized by the way his large, powerful hands spread stark white paint onto the
void of black behind it. He was so graceful, so chaotically deliberate. Standing back to
examine his work, I was overcome with the desire to crawl inside his head and see his art,
his process, not only through his eyes, but to feel it in his heart. I had not even seen his
face yet, but he was familiar in a way I could not name.
I don’t know where I got the courage, but I surprised myself and as he passed me in
the crowd later, I tugged the sleeve of his black t-shirt and his expectant, beautiful face
turned to meet mine. There was something about the structure of his face; it was at once
primal and angelic. So hard and polished, but those soft, dewy blue eyes and his knee-
weakening crooked smile softened him, so that he managed to exude an innocence or
purity that is contrary to his imposing stature.
“You’re doing a great job in there.” I said.
He looked surprised, almost caught off guard and clumsily, he thanked me. There were
a few awkward exchanges of small talk we’ll never recall, and then he handed me his
card and walked away. As I continued to watch him paint, feeling so moved and inspired
by his presence, I didn’t imagine that I’d ever summon up the courage to speak to him
again. This boy – this quintessentially cool boy with stunning talent, height of the scene,
breathtakingly beautiful, was miles and miles of out my league.
I came home that night and gingerly placed his business card on my bedside
table…handling it ever so carefully, as if it were damaged, then my thin cobweb
of connection to him would be lost. A few days passed and I had spent time,
holding the card, debating if I should him. I’d visited his website and was intrigued,
disturbed and impressed by the scope of his talent and the subject matter he worked
with. I just thought he was so cool. I decided finally, to write him an email, just to
say “thank you” for sharing his work with me (and everyone else) that fateful night.
Surprisingly, he wrote back to me. Not only that, but he’d looked me up on Myspace and
made a comment in his email to me about a picture of me picking cherries. It was only
slightly flirtatious, but very sweet and highly innocuous. He had a girlfriend, of course he
did! How could he not? As I never thought I stood a chance anyway, it was only mildly
disappointing. I was just thrilled that he had written me back, opening a door to get to
know him better.
A few days later, I was on a date at a local dive bar in my neighborhood. I walked out
of the bathroom to find just standing there, leaning against the wall, as if he were
waiting for me. We each did a little double take and huge smiles of recognition and “what
the fuck…” crept across both our faces. I suddenly felt like my heart would leap out of
my chest. We had a brief, somewhat awkward hug and exchanged some small talk before
I went back to my date – completely distracted and excited. The way he looked at me in
that moment, world seemed to stop and fall away. Something changed in that moment.
We were each forever altered by what was beginning. A seed was planted in each of our
hearts in those few seconds, and it began to grow very quickly, spreading out strong and
overwhelming like ivy.
It feels as though our hearts have been fused together.
I always feel him with me, though we are rarely in the same space.
His voice and breath and words dwell inside me.
He is the part of me I never knew existed.
He is my missing link, my perfect puzzle piece.
He is my inspiration to greatness.
I belong to him. I am his.
He is….
- - - - - - - - - -
Yeah, he meets most his whores at The Page, his favorite bar.
Another mixtape CD
A mixtape from Amber, Summer 2008.
He met her at Minna and slept with her from the beginning of 2008 until sometime in 2009. When they met, he told her he had a girlfriend. I can't believe all the slutty men and women out there who don't care about the innocent party they are hurting. It really is a character flaw.
- - - - - - - - - -
To: HIM
From: HER
Sometime in April 2008
He captured my attention the moment I laid eyes on his startling X’X” frame. The lights
above the stage where he stood painting, reflecting off his “Mr. Clean” shaved head. I
was mesmerized by the way his large, powerful hands spread stark white paint onto the
void of black behind it. He was so graceful, so chaotically deliberate. Standing back to
examine his work, I was overcome with the desire to crawl inside his head and see his art,
his process, not only through his eyes, but to feel it in his heart. I had not even seen his
face yet, but he was familiar in a way I could not name.
I don’t know where I got the courage, but I surprised myself and as he passed me in
the crowd later, I tugged the sleeve of his black t-shirt and his expectant, beautiful face
turned to meet mine. There was something about the structure of his face; it was at once
primal and angelic. So hard and polished, but those soft, dewy blue eyes and his knee-
weakening crooked smile softened him, so that he managed to exude an innocence or
purity that is contrary to his imposing stature.
“You’re doing a great job in there.” I said.
He looked surprised, almost caught off guard and clumsily, he thanked me. There were
a few awkward exchanges of small talk we’ll never recall, and then he handed me his
card and walked away. As I continued to watch him paint, feeling so moved and inspired
by his presence, I didn’t imagine that I’d ever summon up the courage to speak to him
again. This boy – this quintessentially cool boy with stunning talent, height of the scene,
breathtakingly beautiful, was miles and miles of out my league.
I came home that night and gingerly placed his business card on my bedside
table…handling it ever so carefully, as if it were damaged, then my thin cobweb
of connection to him would be lost. A few days passed and I had spent time,
holding the card, debating if I should him. I’d visited his website and was intrigued,
disturbed and impressed by the scope of his talent and the subject matter he worked
with. I just thought he was so cool. I decided finally, to write him an email, just to
say “thank you” for sharing his work with me (and everyone else) that fateful night.
Surprisingly, he wrote back to me. Not only that, but he’d looked me up on Myspace and
made a comment in his email to me about a picture of me picking cherries. It was only
slightly flirtatious, but very sweet and highly innocuous. He had a girlfriend, of course he
did! How could he not? As I never thought I stood a chance anyway, it was only mildly
disappointing. I was just thrilled that he had written me back, opening a door to get to
know him better.
A few days later, I was on a date at a local dive bar in my neighborhood. I walked out
of the bathroom to find just standing there, leaning against the wall, as if he were
waiting for me. We each did a little double take and huge smiles of recognition and “what
the fuck…” crept across both our faces. I suddenly felt like my heart would leap out of
my chest. We had a brief, somewhat awkward hug and exchanged some small talk before
I went back to my date – completely distracted and excited. The way he looked at me in
that moment, world seemed to stop and fall away. Something changed in that moment.
We were each forever altered by what was beginning. A seed was planted in each of our
hearts in those few seconds, and it began to grow very quickly, spreading out strong and
overwhelming like ivy.
It feels as though our hearts have been fused together.
I always feel him with me, though we are rarely in the same space.
His voice and breath and words dwell inside me.
He is the part of me I never knew existed.
He is my missing link, my perfect puzzle piece.
He is my inspiration to greatness.
I belong to him. I am his.
He is….
- - - - - - - - - -
Yeah, he meets most his whores at The Page, his favorite bar.