bitter basil, (hozier)

august 1st, 1969 - afternoon

property of andrew hozier-byrne
1st august, 1969
i had a thought, dear
however scary
about that night
the bugs and the dirt
why were you digging?
what did you bury
before those hands pulled me from the earth?
i will not ask you where you came from
i will not ask you, neither should you
honey just put your

-

dear diary,
her name is judy.
but the way i say it doesn't do the name justice.
she's got this heavenly virginia tidewater accent that makes every single word sound like sweet whiskey.
please, let her talk for a little while longer.
let her call me 'sugar' again, please.
when we first met, she said, "damn sugar, how much milk did you drink to get that tall?" and now i'm tagging along on her trip to new york. i felt lost when i came to america. my only goal was to get out of wicklow, away from my family - tragic as it sounds. but then i met her. her deep brown curls beckoned me, her soft chocolate eyes intrigued me, and her hand was held out flat towards me. and now i'm going to new york. a music festival doesn't seem like much of a goal, but to me, it is. it's like we're taking our own little pilgrimage.
i feel wrong for being so infatuated with her. i mean, i've only known her for a few hours.
am i wrong for feeling wrong?
but it just seems right. her. judy.
judy hozier-byrne-
alright i'm getting too excited.
right now, we're still somewhere in kentucky - judy thinks louisville, and i don't know any better to argue with. we have three goals:
one, get my money translated.
two, get some beach boys cassettes.
three, find a motel to crash in for the night before we 'hit the road again,' as judy put it.

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
honey just put your sweet hands on my hands
honey just put your sweet skin on my skin

-

"andrew?"

judy's voice pulled the man out of his thoughts. "hm?"

"there's a bank down the road. i can probably snag a map or something. how much money do you have?" she asked.

"a couple hundred pounds is all," andrew responded.

judy pulled into the parking lot of the bank. "alrighty. i'll get the map, you get your money. meet back here in 20?"

"wouldn't miss it, lass," andrew said as she turned off the engine.

this task was mundane, to no one's surprise. andrew now had a few hundred dollars to add to their funds, and judy now had a road map so they weren't really lost. they met back at the van in half of the time they allotted.

"i asked one of the tellers. apparently there's a record store just two blocks down," judy said as they hopped into the van.

"sounds like a plan," said andrew. they were parked in front of a store called indy's records within minutes.

"hey, dude and dudette," a man smiled from behind the counter. he was your stereotypical hippie, with long bleached hair and circular shades barely hanging off his nose. "i'm indy, so holler if you need anything."

"actually, indy," said judy. "you got any beach boys cassettes?" she asked. "or pot? whichever comes first." andrew was taken aback by her bluntness. he didn't know she smoked. well, he saw the cigarette pack in the back pocket of her bell bottom jeans, but he didn't know that she smoked.