Now that I've been pressured into writing something my mind's a complete blank.
Okay, maybe not a complete blank. I've been watching reruns of Entourage for two days and whenever I close my eyes I just hear cursing in my head. Well, more than usual.
(And phrases like 'hook me up', 'let's hook up' and 'off the hook'. What's with all the hooking?)
...
It's been raining like crazy this past week, which kept me home Friday (though technically the term should be 'kept me from the office' because I did manage to get out of the house that night). And since tomorrow is officially a holiday, that will be four straight days I did not go to SMPC. Woohoo.
Saturday ended up enjoying music. It's gotten very hard to get people to just go out and enjoy live music. Like it always has to be someone they know before they can commit to a night out. I say: But you don't know anybody!
And we agree, with beer and the music, you get to trim the fat from your conversations. You can go straight to the point for those couple of minutes while the next band sets up. And that is how my friend now knows my sob story. So the cycle is complete, I think. I hope. Next(!)
Any takers? You in the hoodie?
at some point, it's all plan B
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
When You Left I Was Last To Know
It was 1995. (Most of my stories start out with that sentence, I've come to realize.) September 11 or 18, I'm not so sure anymore. Pretty sure it was a Monday at least, because Mondays are notorious for these things. That was the day I saw you holding his hand.
To be fair, it wasn't like it was side-by-side-walking-in-the-park; he had his behind his back and you were holding them behind him, as if he was taking you somewhere. Somewhere fun. Would things have been different if it had stopped there? Probably not. But.
Days later, perhaps it was that Thursday, or the next: there's a narrow set of stairs at the corner of the foyer that maintenance people use to get to the air conditioning boxes outside the second floor. I've never seen anyone actually go up there.
Anyway, it's a pretty secluded hiding spot, except maybe if you took the shortcut from the campus' main artery to the foyer, or turned that corner coming from the library. And that's exactly what I did when I found you (plural) there.
Maybe I was coming from class, or just walking around aimlessly because that's what I do when I'm angry or depressed. No, I'm lying: I was looking for you, and I guess it worked. I muttered something under my breath while I walked past and picked up the pace, something along the lines of "Fuck".
Now I didn't think there would be another 5-day stretch that would hurt like that did. I was wrong.
To be fair, it wasn't like it was side-by-side-walking-in-the-park; he had his behind his back and you were holding them behind him, as if he was taking you somewhere. Somewhere fun. Would things have been different if it had stopped there? Probably not. But.
Days later, perhaps it was that Thursday, or the next: there's a narrow set of stairs at the corner of the foyer that maintenance people use to get to the air conditioning boxes outside the second floor. I've never seen anyone actually go up there.
Anyway, it's a pretty secluded hiding spot, except maybe if you took the shortcut from the campus' main artery to the foyer, or turned that corner coming from the library. And that's exactly what I did when I found you (plural) there.
Maybe I was coming from class, or just walking around aimlessly because that's what I do when I'm angry or depressed. No, I'm lying: I was looking for you, and I guess it worked. I muttered something under my breath while I walked past and picked up the pace, something along the lines of "Fuck".
Now I didn't think there would be another 5-day stretch that would hurt like that did. I was wrong.
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