Web Journal

Amber Waves

Thursday 22 September 2011, by Cécile Desbrun

Jesus. My jaw hurts. Pop to King’s Rd, get a coffee to go, it’s too early for him to be here.

I take one shot of Vanilla latte. She wants a Double Espresso after last night’s – Rats. What do you call it – Brutal. Things I saw. Things I was told. Parchment. Tree skin. Sustainable.

Even the ink stains. Happen to have a fondness for ink stains. I have some on this paper as I write this. I have a fondness for Amber. Maybe I have done some of the things she has done, but mine is not on a tree skin. To be accurate hers is on man skin and this is imprinted on tree skin. But now she knows. It’s more than that. Forever. It is written on her Body. We talk about Body maps. On our way to San Diego but stop at Laguna.

Feet in sand. Looking up. Stars are just beginning to show themselves, we talk about Star maps, maps of the Heavens. She wants to know more. I tell her about this mythic astrologer in Maine and about the Alchemist on 63rd and ?? (in NY), I said I could hook her up. She said she could hook me up. We laughed. She said "Come to the porn awards with me, I need you."
I said, "That’s in Vegas, right ?"
"Look," she faltered a bit – "He’s bringing her to this thing. There’s not a lot left of me. I can’t face them alone."