The Ghosts are taking my side

I think that the ghosts are taking my side, as well as the dog. Ancie comes with me everywhere, senses where I am and shows up. The ghosts? Well, a painting fell last night off the wall downstairs and broke something. I heard the pieces crash against the floor. It startled me. I jerked when it happened, woke up scared, and held on tight to K. I felt something brush across my shoulder last night, a ripple like the fingers of a hand. I thought it was K but his hands were at his side. I thought it was the covers but they were under my arm.

I was in the balcony room the other night looking for my toothpaste, getting really frustrated, throwing my things about the room. I thought I heard the dog, Ancie, whine on the balcony. I looked out the door and didn’t see him and went back to the search for the toothpaste. I started getting pissed, let out a big sigh, and heard another whine from under my bed. I lifted up the blanket hanging over the edge of the bed to the floor, went right for the place I heard the whine and there was my toothpaste.

K’s got this pain running from his toes to his ass on his right side. He says it’s the sciatic nerve. And now he thinks it’s because he’s been cursed, had a spell put on him because “Moroccan women do those kinds of things.”

I was all itchy last night and told him we were both falling apart. I know now that it’s because I drank opium tea last night with Alex and Zachary. They were also itching last night. I knew too last night why I was throwing up into the toilet like something straight from the Exorcist because of the last time I had tea. But I didn’t tell that to K. He doesn’t know about the tea.

I had a British guy pick up the book I’m reading. It was laying face down where I set it when I squatted to talk to him. He was on the tile street against a wall having coffee and pastries with a South American girl and Alex. The guy turned the book over and said, “Oh,” surprised-like as if it explained everything and answered all his questions he had about me, “so you’re a writer.” I’m reading the Creative Writer’s Handbook helping me focus on this relationship as if it’s a story and not my life. But it is both I suppose.

I’m listening to the song “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits, and it reminds me how I often feel K and I follow this Romeo and Juliet thing. I just saw a translation of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” in Berber. The other night K said (while holding me tight), if I stop breathing, please don’t try and start it up again. I just want to hold you and then die. The next night I said it back to him exactly the same way. More so that he’d see what it feels like to be told that.