three rooms and a hallway. i've become so familiar with this place. five if you count the storeroom and the bathroom. i ask what people are thinking. tell me something interesting. tell me something about you i don't know.
i just had a small moment of intense joy. i put on my sweatshirt. i just washed it a couple hours ago. it smelled wonderful and clean. i giggled a little out loud.
i want to ask people: why can't i find love? why is it that everyone perfect i meet is already with some other guy? why's it so hard to meet people i don't know? don't i deserve more than that? it's not something you can easily get by openly conversing about. not a gap so easily traversed. tends to set people back on their heels.
what i mean to say is that this beautiful girl just came and ordered drinks... two of the special recipe i stole from simplyummy. she was here for the very first one, wrote it up on our special board and all. and she's all smiles and kind words. and i have no idea how to meet her. or how to get close to her. or how to go to dinner with her and whatever else there is to do. there's a way to do it... people get together all the time. fear probably has something to say about it. there's abby whom i know more about than anyone else in my golf class. and none of that matters because what i know isn't anything at all. it's what happens when your limited experience of someone is in a constricted social setting. complete with rules and boundaries and small tasks to complete. jokes are there to make and small conversation intervals and not much else. and still, abby is beautiful in a giraffe-ish sort of way. to see her hit a golf ball, i mean. and it's not a bad thing at all, no. she's tall and thin and when she bends over to address the ball it seems like her upper body goes on forever... all hips upward hanging in space. and she's a pretty girl. which leads to me daydreaming about asking her out in a very low-pressure social sort of way. and still, i can already see the look on her face when she searches for an excuse not to. when she wonders why this kid is here again trying to be her partner. i suppose that's a sad thought. if she'd agree, however, i'd be surprised no matter what. i think i'll always be surprised.
that's a risk, though. that's new to me. danielle was something altogether different. her signals were as strong as mine but equally false. well, false i suppose. who knows what she thinks or feels? it doesn't really matter i suppose. she's with rob. what's there to do when someone you love loves someone else? there's no way i want her out of my life even though when she's not here and we're not talking and i can think about other things, i feel better about it. there's always that little spark of emotional masochism that i'm drawn to though, like a fated silver screen actor.
pretty coffee shop girl just walked out the door.
it's why i want to spend time with her, fully prepared to enjoy the hell out of it and expecting two or three painful instances of reality breaking through like a scar of bare canvas in a claude monet painting. those times when i'll lose myself for a little while and be really happy. then something small will remind me hey! she's got a boyfriend. you know she doesn't entertain thoughts of you at all. she's wonderful because she's wonderful, not because you're you. this is all a dream. it's a hologram or a hallucination. she's an escort for the afternoon. these are the temptations of jesus. of adam. you can look but don't touch.
i'm wondering if i should include a song about boston on this mix. going back to boston. i want to but, if not for the merit of the song, probably only to make a statement. she wouldn't understand. see, due to my infinite tact (pfft...) i don't believe she has a reasonable grasp of the gravity of the situation. she doesn't know when it kills me. the worst of it all... she wants to listen to me. wants to be that wonderful friend, just like i want to be for her. i'm all prepared to hear about boston and christmas and rob because it's what i have to do to be close to her. because i care about her more than i care about me. she wants to hear what's bothering me, what makes me sad. but she can't because it's her. it's not a new irony for me and one of my least favorite to be honest. the beautiful arrow through my side asking why the tears? i want to tell her everything so badly but i'm also haunted by the sneaking suspicion that everything i do is a ploy to win her over. i can't shake that idea, most likely because it's true. whenever we go out, i'll be charming and laughing and smiling and asking questions. not like we're normal friends with no attachments, but to win her over. and even though i know it's a failure waiting to happen, a cursed venture from the get go... i can't stop. it will only get worse until i can't see her again. that will be the saddest day of all.
and you're waiting, waiting, hoping, hoping things will turn out fine...
i've gotten into an honest spiral with ali. i can't tell her the things i want to. it's too personal. how do you tell someone that you don't feel close enough to them to talk about anything very important? because you don't feel they invest the proper attention. because it's abundantly clear that only a very few of the population at large are let in. i'm not inside, probably never will be. what is there to do? how do i get out of it now?
brutal, man. brutal.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
hell, i won't be found
there's no better music on earth to tell stories to than this.
my stories, though, i suppose, are all the same. the names and places change, not much more. where are all these girls i knew? paris is in vienna (hah... yeah, i'm jealous). there was someone i met last week in golf class. abby, yes. we were doing a drill based on keeping your wrist angled during your downswing wherein the partner would grab the club and keep it upright, letting it slide through their hands as you pulled downwards. she inadvertently made a comment (we had just met!) about going first while she tugged on my club. we both sort of paused and i said i wouldn't even make a joke about that. we laughed about it. i partnered up with her again yesterday... remembered her name because of that joke. she said she was pretty embarrassed about it and had told the story to a couple people over the last week. she's a friendly girl, pretty and tall and blonde and thin. sorority type. knows a few people i do. from canada, although her family lives in singapore. we're both seniors and her father was in the same class as mine at wake in the 70's. we laughed and joked the whole time.
then came the end of the class, to which i'll apply patented over-analysis techniques known only to the most paranoid of us all. we watched videos in a classroom. we were both texting different people... i was one seat ahead of her and to the side. optimism when she used my chair as a footrest followed by pessimism when she left the room without saying anything. i remember glancing back at her when they spoke of swinging inside-out (dorky golfspeak, i suppose) and thinking in that quick instant or two that she was even prettier than before. the class only meets once a week. there's nothing more to say about it.
danielle is a different story. she rises with the sun and breaks my heart every day. i wrote her before christmas but never heard back. oh well... might as well start that awful process of moving on. not so easy, apparently. i was walking on the phone, all sunglasses and sweatpants, in front of the pit and towards the gym wednesday morning. i never saw her coming...
she came up behind me and grabbed my elbow and we hugged fantastically for a second before walking again. she was going to the gym anyway. pretty in that way that you wouldn't have realized until you were used to it. smiles and such. she didn't have to seek me out. especially not now. if it had been me, i'd have pretended not to see her... but that's the difference between us. i got off the phone before we split ways and she lowered the axe. asked me if i was ok. with everything. threw me in the fire. what could i do? i pretended i was. that everything was fine. that i didn't think about her all the time and that it didn't sit like a parasitic grape nut deep inside me... the knowledge that she was here but not with me. that question meant so much. said so much. it says she's still with rob. it says she entertains no daydreams about me but that she cares.
what's the worst thing that could happen? this? the beautiful girl loves someone else but is sweet enough to give the hero no reason on earth not to feel the way he does. the perfect crime. so concerned with my happiness but so unwilling to do anything about it.
ali is dating a marine. she's such a tough nut to crack... i can't get used to it either. saw alli a couple times yesterday... resident polo hottie. (... well, to me anyway) reminiscent of danielle a day before. came up from behind me (this time she was on the phone, though) kicked me on the hip to say hello. i kicked her back. (playground flirting, anyone?) she was talking to her mother... mention that she'd kicked me but said i probably deserve it. (no shit, we're 7... and i don't mind at all) she told her mom it wasn't too hard and i said i thought a butterfly had landed on my hip but i don't think she heard me. we split ways at the back of reynolda but both ended up at the post office, back to back. she was still on the phone. i rolled up a flier and smacked her in the head with it before pretending to be standing there reading it. she smiled at me as she walked out.
who the hell knows? i'll be lonely forever. mark it down. karma or otherwise. i'll be the tallest man on earth. secretive, making lonely music forever. honey, won't you let me in?
my stories, though, i suppose, are all the same. the names and places change, not much more. where are all these girls i knew? paris is in vienna (hah... yeah, i'm jealous). there was someone i met last week in golf class. abby, yes. we were doing a drill based on keeping your wrist angled during your downswing wherein the partner would grab the club and keep it upright, letting it slide through their hands as you pulled downwards. she inadvertently made a comment (we had just met!) about going first while she tugged on my club. we both sort of paused and i said i wouldn't even make a joke about that. we laughed about it. i partnered up with her again yesterday... remembered her name because of that joke. she said she was pretty embarrassed about it and had told the story to a couple people over the last week. she's a friendly girl, pretty and tall and blonde and thin. sorority type. knows a few people i do. from canada, although her family lives in singapore. we're both seniors and her father was in the same class as mine at wake in the 70's. we laughed and joked the whole time.
then came the end of the class, to which i'll apply patented over-analysis techniques known only to the most paranoid of us all. we watched videos in a classroom. we were both texting different people... i was one seat ahead of her and to the side. optimism when she used my chair as a footrest followed by pessimism when she left the room without saying anything. i remember glancing back at her when they spoke of swinging inside-out (dorky golfspeak, i suppose) and thinking in that quick instant or two that she was even prettier than before. the class only meets once a week. there's nothing more to say about it.
danielle is a different story. she rises with the sun and breaks my heart every day. i wrote her before christmas but never heard back. oh well... might as well start that awful process of moving on. not so easy, apparently. i was walking on the phone, all sunglasses and sweatpants, in front of the pit and towards the gym wednesday morning. i never saw her coming...
she came up behind me and grabbed my elbow and we hugged fantastically for a second before walking again. she was going to the gym anyway. pretty in that way that you wouldn't have realized until you were used to it. smiles and such. she didn't have to seek me out. especially not now. if it had been me, i'd have pretended not to see her... but that's the difference between us. i got off the phone before we split ways and she lowered the axe. asked me if i was ok. with everything. threw me in the fire. what could i do? i pretended i was. that everything was fine. that i didn't think about her all the time and that it didn't sit like a parasitic grape nut deep inside me... the knowledge that she was here but not with me. that question meant so much. said so much. it says she's still with rob. it says she entertains no daydreams about me but that she cares.
what's the worst thing that could happen? this? the beautiful girl loves someone else but is sweet enough to give the hero no reason on earth not to feel the way he does. the perfect crime. so concerned with my happiness but so unwilling to do anything about it.
ali is dating a marine. she's such a tough nut to crack... i can't get used to it either. saw alli a couple times yesterday... resident polo hottie. (... well, to me anyway) reminiscent of danielle a day before. came up from behind me (this time she was on the phone, though) kicked me on the hip to say hello. i kicked her back. (playground flirting, anyone?) she was talking to her mother... mention that she'd kicked me but said i probably deserve it. (no shit, we're 7... and i don't mind at all) she told her mom it wasn't too hard and i said i thought a butterfly had landed on my hip but i don't think she heard me. we split ways at the back of reynolda but both ended up at the post office, back to back. she was still on the phone. i rolled up a flier and smacked her in the head with it before pretending to be standing there reading it. she smiled at me as she walked out.
who the hell knows? i'll be lonely forever. mark it down. karma or otherwise. i'll be the tallest man on earth. secretive, making lonely music forever. honey, won't you let me in?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
dead passengers
maybe this is another start. i want to start writing again. i know i've said that before... well, many times before... but this semester promises to be different. i want to start over almost, even though it's the last few months here. and yet, it's really hard. i still believe what i do. i'm not over danielle at all, although her ostentatious failure to communicate helps solidify the distance between us. doesn't mean i don't think about her all the time. i suppose that story is for another night. i want to believe that i just want her to be happy, even with rob but i don't believe that at all. i suppose all that matters is that she believes it. i should seem like a good person. it's important that i should seem like a good person.
i was driving down I-40 tonight, west. i'll admit i wasn't in the best of places. mentally all wrapped up in some song, some wandering tear afraid to leave my eye (as much as i want to believe i can actually cry...). physically even, a lane over but behind a moving truck. i only noticed it because the roll-up back door had come open, which was odd. dangerous, i realized. their stuff was sitting inches away from the edge of the flat bed and could easily fall out. i imagined for a quick second what would happen if something rolled out and towards my car. none of the quick scenarios ended well for me or the rest of westbound raleigh commuters. i sped up to pass them, thinking only as i did that i should somehow stop beside them, honk, wave, throw my hand out the sunroof and point... just something. before i knew it i was already past and there were cars behind me. i got this sick, heated feeling of being responsible for whatever might happen. visions of those same dumb objects, those personal effects turned weapons, tumbling out the back of the truck. driver none the wiser. cars swerving at 70 miles per hour. pileups. deaths. the intricate details of the end-of-times. this sickness stuck with me for hours. i thought i might die behind the wheel. i was afraid. very afraid.
i spent a long time with julie tonight. she's a sweet kid, easily my favorite from her apartment. whether that's because i'm particularly tired of the other roommates or from her own specific merits isn't up for discussion. she's good to talk to, intelligent... just... and i hate to use this place for any negative personal thoughts towards good people, but if it's a true chronicle of myself, then... well, there's no spark. i'd hate to say this is because i'm not particularly attracted to her. she's blonde (just milquetoast!) (<-- i just wanted to use that word, however true). there's just no spark. i went over this with danielle k. the other day at lunch. there are so few people that i feel that immediate attraction to, and almost never the same ones that would feel the same about me. at least with danielle a., she's so goddamn sweet and understanding that it's hard to tell the difference. worse, actually, as i'm still fallen for her. oh well... point being that it feels sometimes like i don't pay due attention to certainly wonderful normal people because i don't feel that spark. that's fair though... i can't say it's not.
i want to get back into the swing of writing here but no more for tonight. head aches and sleep is important. tomorrow (or today) a better day. always. somedays.
i was driving down I-40 tonight, west. i'll admit i wasn't in the best of places. mentally all wrapped up in some song, some wandering tear afraid to leave my eye (as much as i want to believe i can actually cry...). physically even, a lane over but behind a moving truck. i only noticed it because the roll-up back door had come open, which was odd. dangerous, i realized. their stuff was sitting inches away from the edge of the flat bed and could easily fall out. i imagined for a quick second what would happen if something rolled out and towards my car. none of the quick scenarios ended well for me or the rest of westbound raleigh commuters. i sped up to pass them, thinking only as i did that i should somehow stop beside them, honk, wave, throw my hand out the sunroof and point... just something. before i knew it i was already past and there were cars behind me. i got this sick, heated feeling of being responsible for whatever might happen. visions of those same dumb objects, those personal effects turned weapons, tumbling out the back of the truck. driver none the wiser. cars swerving at 70 miles per hour. pileups. deaths. the intricate details of the end-of-times. this sickness stuck with me for hours. i thought i might die behind the wheel. i was afraid. very afraid.
i spent a long time with julie tonight. she's a sweet kid, easily my favorite from her apartment. whether that's because i'm particularly tired of the other roommates or from her own specific merits isn't up for discussion. she's good to talk to, intelligent... just... and i hate to use this place for any negative personal thoughts towards good people, but if it's a true chronicle of myself, then... well, there's no spark. i'd hate to say this is because i'm not particularly attracted to her. she's blonde (just milquetoast!) (<-- i just wanted to use that word, however true). there's just no spark. i went over this with danielle k. the other day at lunch. there are so few people that i feel that immediate attraction to, and almost never the same ones that would feel the same about me. at least with danielle a., she's so goddamn sweet and understanding that it's hard to tell the difference. worse, actually, as i'm still fallen for her. oh well... point being that it feels sometimes like i don't pay due attention to certainly wonderful normal people because i don't feel that spark. that's fair though... i can't say it's not.
i want to get back into the swing of writing here but no more for tonight. head aches and sleep is important. tomorrow (or today) a better day. always. somedays.
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