diner kerry whenever you ask me "wanna get coffee and fries with me?" it allways reminds me of de Niro in taxi_driver asking that girl "would you like to have coffee and pie with me?" and even though i've seen it and i Know, i would still get coffee and pie with him this is i promise besides the point but you look a little like him and you said no way, nah when i said it, looking at this picture from chris's wedding when your tie was loose and your sleeves were rolled up and you wore that black vest, hard to pull off but you could do it--who wouldn't like being told they look like robert de niro? (i wouldn't actually) i'm not saying it because "all italians look alike" c'mon you say you're kidding but it's not funny it's beside the point anyway that was a good night, however you looked more like yourself than anyone else 210812 ... kerry as my houseguest and i crossed the street to go to the diner this evening she said, "they're gonna see us and say uh oh, these people again" and i said, "oh i bet they have a ton of weird regulars." the first thing the kid says to us as he hands us the menus is, "you were here yesterday right?" and we laugh and say yes though it was actually two days ago. they put the gravy on top of the fries instead of on the side and i could tell she was disappointed, and it was too hot for coffee so i got a chocolate shake, which i didn't even finish. she puts on her tortoiseshell glasses and takes them off again. on and off, on and off. i know she doesn't like how she looks with them on, she doesn't believe it when we say they flatter her. she is constantly criticizing herself-- sweats so much neck's getting wrinkly doesn't look good in flats no fat but also no muscle hates her face, lips apparently. i find it baffling i think of the first time i saw her, when she came to the apartment on seaboard ave to help move alex's stuff out and she barely spoke to anyone. she was frightening, i couldn't say more than hello. she was wearing black and her hair was darker then, and she wore heels. she has a kind of innate glamor, even when she's just gotten up, a bit ragged and grumpy. her nose is very regal, she reminds me a bit of a bird, and she is always moving except at the diner, when she's telling me Things and laughing at my jokes and sipping an iced tea. 210813 ... kerry and "you know one thing about me, kerry? i am funny, i am really fuckin FUNNY. what is with this lady?" 210813 ... unhinged dennys (today is friday the 13th) 210813 ... kerry it was an “off day,” the kind of day when i want to squirm out of my skin. the_autodidact suggested we go to the diner and get some coffee. i wore sweatpants, the ones i’d slept in. it took enough effort to cross the threshold–changing my clothes would be impossible. our waitress had brittle blond hair and dense false eyelashes. she reminded me a bit of miss piggy. “what can i get youse two?” her accent was as thick as her lashes. the_autodidact ordered coffee and hashbrowns, forgetting that they always come out cold and undercooked. i only ordered coffee. “you need to eat. get something.” “i’d eat a biscuit but they only have english muffins and toast. i could make my own toast at home.” several minutes of near-silence passed, only the clinking of spoons against mugs. “you know,” said the_autodidact, “i don’t blame you for feeling like this. what bugs me is when you pretend nothing’s wrong when it clearly is.” my eyes began to sting. “i don’t want to put all this on you,” i said. “it’s too much. it’s too much for me.” “it’s not. you feeling like shit isn’t too much for me. just be honest about it. and you always feel better after you talk, you know that.” i could feel a single tear dripping down my cheek. i took off my glasses, stared out the window at the blurry parking lot. i shut my eyes tight but it only seemed to make it worse. i put my elbows on the table, covered my face with both hands. “can we please not talk about this here? i don’t want to fall apart in public.” “who cares, we don’t know these people.” “that doesn’t matter,” i said, wiping my eyes with a napkin. our waitress appeared, dropped the check on our table. “can i have more coffee,” i said, glancing at her. without my glasses i couldn’t read the expression on her face. i turned to the window and wondered how puffy my eyes were, if she even noticed at all, how many people come in here and fall apart over their coffee and hashbrowns. surely i wasn’t the first. when i was about 22 i waited tables at a diner in atlanta. it was awful; i’d show up at 6 AM, make coffee, set the little jam jars out on the tables, tie my black apron around my waist. our customers were cranky, tired, demanding, and by 2 PM i was so worn out i’d only half pay attention to my section. if they come in this late, i thought to myself, they’re shit out of luck. i can’t pretend anymore. one day near the end of my shift, a woman came into the diner alone and sat in my section, at a two-top by the window. she looked middle-aged, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun, and had clearly been quite beautiful when she was younger. her butter-colored tweed jacket and skirt were very coco chanel. “how are you today?” i said robotically, setting a glass of water and roll of silverware on the table. “not great,” she said. it surprised me; people aren’t usually honest about how they’re doing. i stood there, quiet, and at first she didn’t say anything. “i was just diagnosed with cancer,” she said in a flat voice. i didn’t know what to say besides “god, i’m so sorry.” she shrugged. “i’ll have steak and eggs.” no one ever ordered steak and eggs. when i brought her enormous plate, she was staring out the window. and she continued gazing out the window as i refilled her water, as the steak cooled and the eggs died. when i went to drop off her check she was gone. on the table was her meal, untouched and dull, and a couple of twenties. 220127 what's it to you? who go blather from