I think I lied about DC. I didn’t mean to but I’m pretty sure I did. I didn’t lie about Northern Virginia. It took all of ten minutes at the dog park to remember everything I hated about Northern Virginia. Uptight anxiety-riddled motherfuckers yelling at and actually fucking hitting their dogs. Just, right the fuck in front of everyone. It was so fucking shocking to our systems that my writer friend I’d gone there to meet, Andrea Pitzer and I spent the rest of the night wondering why we didn’t fuck that lady up. We should have. But we were just in fucking shock. Jesus christ. But DC, fuck I love this goddamn town. I just forgot. I was so busy hating Virginia that I forgot I fucking love this town. I love the weird conversations I have with random people for no other reason than we’re standing on the same corner waiting for the light to change. She was carrying her kid’s Howard U diploma home from the frame shop. He’s going to be a doctor. I love how some random guy watering his flowers asks if Woody would like to be sprayed. He doesn’t want to scare him. But it might feel nice. If he’s not scared of water. I love that there’s a dog sitter named Woo, who’s like a queer fairy godmother to dogs, who showed up on a couple hours notice when a friend bailed. And he took my dog on a tour of DC. I got photo updates.
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