Mishka’s in town for the first time in a year. We’re building a house of everything that happened since I saw her. Mine’s five fingers of clumsy pain in a cut glass cup that never existed, hers is three of short-girl cuddly with a dash of boy complaint for good measure stuffed into a tanned pillow. If you knew her, that sentence would make sense. It would be concise, even. As it is, barely anyone I know has ever come in contact with her. This should change.
I’d like for my friends to meet her.
She’ll be with me today until six-thirty or so, and I may be seeing her again this week during the day sometime. She’s back in Victoria for a show on Friday, then back here for part of the weekend, then off to Calgary to visit her relationship.
Also, tonight is Beth‘s show: