and he's bored. He says Casa Grande is boring. Duh! Poor thing. Today he had to endure two hours of waiting at the Saturn dealership as my silver blue bullet was serviced. Ha ha. Then we went out to eat at Olive Garden, and then to do some last minute shopping at Target (he bought a shirt and some boxer briefs.) Okay, I did.
Right now, he's on my bed reading Dana Levin's Wedding Day. Now he's reading a poem out loud. And we're listening to Coldplay's new CD. He doesn't like the music.
He's dying for a martini. A Dirty Absolute martini. He's got issues. He brushes his teeth with Tecate.
Now we're talking trash about some people. It might be YOU. Chances are good.
Tonight we're going out for drinks at a new dive in Maricopa.
Now he's flipping through my copy of 1913: A Journal of Forms. He's impressed with Scott Inguito's poems. We both think Scott is hot. Okay, only I do.
Call me crazy, but I really like the latest Coldplay album.
Rigo just asked me whatever happened to Scott. Scott is in San Francisco planning his wedding to his Beloved. And teaching at local community colleges. And, of course, writing poems. He's a nice boy.
Rigo wants to go. He's thirsty.
Hell no! I won't go until my Dear Readers get the full picture of our afternoon!
We're wondering about Oliver de la Paz. Has he made it to his new home in Washington?
He is now reading my copy of Greg Williamson's Errors in the Script. He says Greg is very cute.
He's now standing before my tiny closet and laughing at my meager clothes. He's a mean bitch. Okay, he gave me a dirty look. He's bragging about his two packed walk-in closets in his new place in Urbana. Our new place.
I really really really like the new Coldplay album!
Rigo likes Daddy Yankee. Whoever that is.
He just said this is the must boring and stupid blog post ever. That's why he doesn't read my blog, he said. Or anybody else's. Right.
We're going to name our new two-story apartment El Noa Noa.
Some of you might be asking who the hell Rigo is. Rigo is Rigoberto Gonzalez. He's got a few books out. Some of them are even good. Okay, only one.
Now he thinks I'm the bitch.
He just said something, but he won't let me write down what he said.
Over and out. We're off to see the Wizard.
He likes little men who hide behind smoke and mirrors.
He's like that.