I have NYU kids. Is that a fair thing to say.
God this city must breathe easier when those damn rich kids are all out of here. If one more of them asks me how to get to Canal St. They may die, seriously. I may be jealouse because they're going to my dream school. But I think its becoming my dream Grad. School.
They need to learn how to walk a little faster. I'm a nice guy, really, just dont walk slow in front of me when I'm trying to catch my subway train home. In fact, just stay off my train, how's that?
* Disclaimer: if any NYU kids read my blog, which I doubt they do, I forgive you.
Friday, September 29, 2006
A man to his married lover
When we fight
(which we do with great severity)
you always drop you shoulder
and whats with the 'my two fo your one' deal?
do you think this makes it right?
is this how you hit your wife,
or am I really the love of your life?
(which we do with great severity)
you always drop you shoulder
and whats with the 'my two fo your one' deal?
do you think this makes it right?
is this how you hit your wife,
or am I really the love of your life?
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
My Apartment: Starring Someone Vaguely Resembling Myself
The room is small but he can afford it. The walls are a chalky white and they need another coat of paint. The roaches are nice and he has his own bathroom. Papers litter the floor. This is how he spends his days: reading, writing, sleeping. This is how he had spent his time anyway; before school started, before he had found a job, before his real life had begun.
Upon entering 4m there is the incredibly loud screeching of the door. This used to embarrass him, but the sound his grown on him. He thinks of it now almost as an animal's gleeful bark or meow; a welcome home.
There are two closets directly across from one another, creating a sort of walkway. The closet to the right has coats, shoes, and the tool kit his father had bought him. He has never used it, and probably never will. He is not handy in that way. The closet on the left holds extra towels, a second set of sheets, his dirty laundry, and all of his cleaning supplies. The door dosent clost completely but he has come to love this flaw as well. There is a shelf next to the closet on the left. It is where he puts his change every night; one jar for quarters, one jar for all other coins. They are old salsa jars. It seemed pointless to buy jars specifically for spare change.
Past the "entry way" there is the apartment. The bathroom is on the left. There is a chair in this corner with three weeks of old Sunday Times still folded, waiting to be read with care. The bathroom is simple. There's a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. The toilet has air fresheners and an extra roll of toilet paper on top. There is a shower. The curtain has orange fish on it. He thinks of it as a remaining part of his fading adolescence. There is a small window, with a ledge where he puts his soap and shampoo. The walla re white as well, the tub is white. The floor has ugly floral tiles that continue halfway up the walls. The tub is where he finds most of the roaches, but they are easily wahsed down the drain.
The apartment itself is small. There is a futon. Its black with a black matress. He loves it though its beginning to creek. Between the futon and the window is the nightstand. It has four shelves on it. These are fill with the books; his achievment of the summer: Forster, Thackarrey(sp?), Cunningham, Leavitt, Plath, Kerouac, so on and so forth. The top shelf has his fan, his reading light, and his small alarm clock. The windows are large and have black metal frames. His apartment is on the fire escape.
He has a T.V. but no television. He uses it strictly for listening to music(when he isnt listening to N.P.R.). The only music he really "listens" to is Miles Davis, because on a rainy day "Green in Blue" still makes him weep. Across the floor, past the scattered papers and unpaid bills, is the table. It is maple with four maple chairs. This is where he works, diligently. The table is his desk, his kitchen table, and his place for magazines. His laptop sits waiting for the typing to begin. His coffee mug sits in the same spot, on the left in the middle of a small plate. The printer is directly behind it, extra paper to the right of that. Other coffee cups have been adopted as pencil holders. The rest of if it is covered with old New Yorkers, and books he has doesnt have space to shelve.
The kitchen is only an area: A stove, covered in pots and pans; a sink, filled with dirty dishes he never gets time to clean; his coffee maker that gets him through the tedious hours. This is basically it. The cabinets have some food, mostly pop-tarts and tea. he doesnt like his kitchen. He's waiting for it to grow on him, but fears it may not. The cabinets are too highl; even on a chair he can't reach the top shelf.
The fridge he loves. It was the most significant thing to him when he moved out on his own. It was a the fridge that made him realize he was finally in charge of himself, because he realized he could decorate it however he wished. He did just that, with postcards. His favorite people and photos: Miles Davis, Billy Holiday, Che, Jack Kerouac, There a photo by Dorothy Lang, and another by Bruce Davidson. There's also a picture of his now second youngest niece holding a chicken. The magnets are more hodge-podge. But he liked them because they looked out of place.
Finally, the other closet is located next to the fridge. His clothing resides here. He has no new clothing only things he brought with him. Various shirts he realized are mostly black, brown, and blue. Shorts and pants go one the top shelves. Underwear, socks, and t-shirts go into the small drawers on the floor.
The laundry is almost always dirty. The floor is always covered in news papers. The sink is always filled with dirty dishes. He always wishes he had more time, because except for sleep he's never here. Working full-time, learning full-time, and sleeping when he can. This isnt the home expected when he dreamed of living in this city. There is now "Miracle on Ocean Avenue". But its a start. Almost all of his friends started here or worse. He's determined to make a life here, because he cant live anywhere else. This is his home, at least for now.
Upon entering 4m there is the incredibly loud screeching of the door. This used to embarrass him, but the sound his grown on him. He thinks of it now almost as an animal's gleeful bark or meow; a welcome home.
There are two closets directly across from one another, creating a sort of walkway. The closet to the right has coats, shoes, and the tool kit his father had bought him. He has never used it, and probably never will. He is not handy in that way. The closet on the left holds extra towels, a second set of sheets, his dirty laundry, and all of his cleaning supplies. The door dosent clost completely but he has come to love this flaw as well. There is a shelf next to the closet on the left. It is where he puts his change every night; one jar for quarters, one jar for all other coins. They are old salsa jars. It seemed pointless to buy jars specifically for spare change.
Past the "entry way" there is the apartment. The bathroom is on the left. There is a chair in this corner with three weeks of old Sunday Times still folded, waiting to be read with care. The bathroom is simple. There's a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. The toilet has air fresheners and an extra roll of toilet paper on top. There is a shower. The curtain has orange fish on it. He thinks of it as a remaining part of his fading adolescence. There is a small window, with a ledge where he puts his soap and shampoo. The walla re white as well, the tub is white. The floor has ugly floral tiles that continue halfway up the walls. The tub is where he finds most of the roaches, but they are easily wahsed down the drain.
The apartment itself is small. There is a futon. Its black with a black matress. He loves it though its beginning to creek. Between the futon and the window is the nightstand. It has four shelves on it. These are fill with the books; his achievment of the summer: Forster, Thackarrey(sp?), Cunningham, Leavitt, Plath, Kerouac, so on and so forth. The top shelf has his fan, his reading light, and his small alarm clock. The windows are large and have black metal frames. His apartment is on the fire escape.
He has a T.V. but no television. He uses it strictly for listening to music(when he isnt listening to N.P.R.). The only music he really "listens" to is Miles Davis, because on a rainy day "Green in Blue" still makes him weep. Across the floor, past the scattered papers and unpaid bills, is the table. It is maple with four maple chairs. This is where he works, diligently. The table is his desk, his kitchen table, and his place for magazines. His laptop sits waiting for the typing to begin. His coffee mug sits in the same spot, on the left in the middle of a small plate. The printer is directly behind it, extra paper to the right of that. Other coffee cups have been adopted as pencil holders. The rest of if it is covered with old New Yorkers, and books he has doesnt have space to shelve.
The kitchen is only an area: A stove, covered in pots and pans; a sink, filled with dirty dishes he never gets time to clean; his coffee maker that gets him through the tedious hours. This is basically it. The cabinets have some food, mostly pop-tarts and tea. he doesnt like his kitchen. He's waiting for it to grow on him, but fears it may not. The cabinets are too highl; even on a chair he can't reach the top shelf.
The fridge he loves. It was the most significant thing to him when he moved out on his own. It was a the fridge that made him realize he was finally in charge of himself, because he realized he could decorate it however he wished. He did just that, with postcards. His favorite people and photos: Miles Davis, Billy Holiday, Che, Jack Kerouac, There a photo by Dorothy Lang, and another by Bruce Davidson. There's also a picture of his now second youngest niece holding a chicken. The magnets are more hodge-podge. But he liked them because they looked out of place.
Finally, the other closet is located next to the fridge. His clothing resides here. He has no new clothing only things he brought with him. Various shirts he realized are mostly black, brown, and blue. Shorts and pants go one the top shelves. Underwear, socks, and t-shirts go into the small drawers on the floor.
The laundry is almost always dirty. The floor is always covered in news papers. The sink is always filled with dirty dishes. He always wishes he had more time, because except for sleep he's never here. Working full-time, learning full-time, and sleeping when he can. This isnt the home expected when he dreamed of living in this city. There is now "Miracle on Ocean Avenue". But its a start. Almost all of his friends started here or worse. He's determined to make a life here, because he cant live anywhere else. This is his home, at least for now.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Submissive (a poem very little punctuation)
I want the wind to take me
Grab me round the middle
swing me to and fro (hither/thither)
treat me as a rag doll
Pound me with rain
or hail the size of Hell Cats
It would recieve ardent love for its troubles
for the push and the pull
Haphazard morning, noon, and night(always)
And I'll remain forever faithful
If it keeps me on my toes.
I know this isnt very good, but its still a work in progress.
Much love
Grab me round the middle
swing me to and fro (hither/thither)
treat me as a rag doll
Pound me with rain
or hail the size of Hell Cats
It would recieve ardent love for its troubles
for the push and the pull
Haphazard morning, noon, and night(always)
And I'll remain forever faithful
If it keeps me on my toes.
I know this isnt very good, but its still a work in progress.
Much love
Monday, September 25, 2006
The good things post
So...The stress has left the building. I apologize for the large number of posts that were basically just me bitching about how much time I dont have. I tend to go over-board on things like that. I fish for sympathy, I'll admit it(This is proof).
But now the parents are gone, the hours at work have declined, and I only have one test coming up, next week. So things are good. So here's an update on things in my life, divided up into sections.
The Writing:
I have about 6 first sentences floating around inside my little head, like:
The violin strings had been restrung by Edward at her request. The Preformance was to be at 8, things were going quite well, all things considered.
I dont know exactly what this story will be about, but who knows maybe that will end up being my "Mrs. Dalloway said....." sentence.
The Reading:
I caved. After the parents left I bought two books. Andrew Holleran, and Hollingherst(I think I butchered that one)(I apologize for the bad spelling). I also bought the New York Magazine issue about Jim McGreevey, I read the excerpt. I dont know how I feel about this whole thing. I want to know more, but I dont want to buy the whole fucking book.
The Music:
I bought Radiohead and Etta James yesterday. I've started really getting into Sleater-Kinney, and People In Planes, and I will forever love Broken Social Scene.
The Boys:
No boys, I theres a guy on campus thats interested. He and I have made our fair share of eye contact. Alas, I fear he may be in the closet completely, and I dont want to deal with that again.
The Men:
I have time to hang out with my amigos this week! Today is Michael, tomorrow is Christopher, the day after is Thom. I may even be seeing Bob this week too.
The City:
I love this city even more. After the visit from the parents is was completely reaffirmed that I do in fact LIVE in New York City. I cant believe it sometimes. I know I will travel but this is homebase from now on.
The overall feeling:
I'm good, I'm relaxed. I'm calm. I'm alive. And I read the Sunday Times this morning, with very strong coffee. Like I need anymore hair on my chest.
Story Tomorrow I promise.
But now the parents are gone, the hours at work have declined, and I only have one test coming up, next week. So things are good. So here's an update on things in my life, divided up into sections.
The Writing:
I have about 6 first sentences floating around inside my little head, like:
The violin strings had been restrung by Edward at her request. The Preformance was to be at 8, things were going quite well, all things considered.
I dont know exactly what this story will be about, but who knows maybe that will end up being my "Mrs. Dalloway said....." sentence.
The Reading:
I caved. After the parents left I bought two books. Andrew Holleran, and Hollingherst(I think I butchered that one)(I apologize for the bad spelling). I also bought the New York Magazine issue about Jim McGreevey, I read the excerpt. I dont know how I feel about this whole thing. I want to know more, but I dont want to buy the whole fucking book.
The Music:
I bought Radiohead and Etta James yesterday. I've started really getting into Sleater-Kinney, and People In Planes, and I will forever love Broken Social Scene.
The Boys:
No boys, I theres a guy on campus thats interested. He and I have made our fair share of eye contact. Alas, I fear he may be in the closet completely, and I dont want to deal with that again.
The Men:
I have time to hang out with my amigos this week! Today is Michael, tomorrow is Christopher, the day after is Thom. I may even be seeing Bob this week too.
The City:
I love this city even more. After the visit from the parents is was completely reaffirmed that I do in fact LIVE in New York City. I cant believe it sometimes. I know I will travel but this is homebase from now on.
The overall feeling:
I'm good, I'm relaxed. I'm calm. I'm alive. And I read the Sunday Times this morning, with very strong coffee. Like I need anymore hair on my chest.
Story Tomorrow I promise.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
The parents have left
So here I am, sitting at a computer in 12th and University. Its amazing that earlier today my parents and I were having tear filled goodbyes in Bryant Park, I put them into a cab on 41st and 6th and that was that, they left for their motel near Laguardia. Their flight leaves at 6 tomarrow morning so they got a room near the airport.
They stayed with me. They slept in my apartment thats so small I cant stand comfortably by myself in it. They made scenes in public, they embarressed me on the subway. But they bought me wine, good wine too. And they bought me shoes, because the ones I had have depleting soles. Thats not good for business.
I dont really know what to say about it all. The stress is now gone. I need time to reflect on the whole experience, I guess. I need to know why I'm SO highstrung around them, and so calm when they arent around. Even on the phone with them I'm edgy.
But NOW, here and now I'm good. I'm relaxed. I can walk around my tiny apartment in the buff if and when I please(but thats even more uncomfortable(thats a terrible joke)). I have books now, and magazines. and I have a stack of books waiting for me at home.
I also have free time next week so I may post a story or something on here, I will defenitly have time to do some of my own writing, too.
I must not disappear onto the Q-train however. We'll talk soon.
They stayed with me. They slept in my apartment thats so small I cant stand comfortably by myself in it. They made scenes in public, they embarressed me on the subway. But they bought me wine, good wine too. And they bought me shoes, because the ones I had have depleting soles. Thats not good for business.
I dont really know what to say about it all. The stress is now gone. I need time to reflect on the whole experience, I guess. I need to know why I'm SO highstrung around them, and so calm when they arent around. Even on the phone with them I'm edgy.
But NOW, here and now I'm good. I'm relaxed. I can walk around my tiny apartment in the buff if and when I please(but thats even more uncomfortable(thats a terrible joke)). I have books now, and magazines. and I have a stack of books waiting for me at home.
I also have free time next week so I may post a story or something on here, I will defenitly have time to do some of my own writing, too.
I must not disappear onto the Q-train however. We'll talk soon.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
They are here
So they got here yesterday and I only had about 2 hours to hang out with them until I had to go to work.
I took them to lunch at Mayrose: comfortable food, and we had the a very cute waiter that was hitting on me. He looked like Heraldo, but in a good way. The best way to describe him would be if Tom Selleck and Heraldo Rivera had a younger brother who was a 'mo. But this is off topic.
So they hung out in my apartment and went through all my stuff. I showed them around Union Sq a little bit. We argued about my life. Things are normal and comfortable now.....(If you cant tell my sarcasm you havent been reading my blog long enough). I think that tonight I'm going to take them to Republic on Union Sq. west. I'm trying to get them to try sushi but I dont think they're up to it. Oh well, more for me, right?
I took them to lunch at Mayrose: comfortable food, and we had the a very cute waiter that was hitting on me. He looked like Heraldo, but in a good way. The best way to describe him would be if Tom Selleck and Heraldo Rivera had a younger brother who was a 'mo. But this is off topic.
So they hung out in my apartment and went through all my stuff. I showed them around Union Sq a little bit. We argued about my life. Things are normal and comfortable now.....(If you cant tell my sarcasm you havent been reading my blog long enough). I think that tonight I'm going to take them to Republic on Union Sq. west. I'm trying to get them to try sushi but I dont think they're up to it. Oh well, more for me, right?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The stress thing
So last week was the most stressful week I've had in a long time. There was the working full time, the school full time, the sleeping when I had time and the pile of other things I felt I needed to take care of.
The work and school thing was a sort of catalyst to the stress. Near the end of highschool I was working 30 hours and dealing with social dilemas with ease( I was alergic to homework). But I felt almost like I had a deadline. My parents are coming on Tuesday, and dont feel like I have anything to show them. I feel like I should be able to show them that I've done something by now, that they didnt waste all of the money and energy moving me out here. I dont think I have that yet.
Now before I start sounding too self-depricating, I know I have a kickass job, I'm in school, I can pay my rent, and I'm still the only 18 year old I know that buys the Sunday Times and sets aside 30 minutes to read the book review front to back. I've made it this far. I just think that they worry that I'm not making any new friends, and I worry that I lean to heavily on the ones that I have here, mostly Michael. But I've never had a friend that I can check out guys with as openly, and he gets all my vague pop-culture references.
It just seemed that everything was going wrong, and there was no way to fix any of it.
But I fell in love with New York again. I love that this happens. I felt comfortable, felt like I was beginning to get the swing of it, that I had intergrated. Then the city sort of threw a bunch of shit at me, and I had to take care of it all. Apparently I passed.
...............................................................................................................................
No new books.
This is a big deal. I have since I was 12 years old, bought at least one book every Sunday. I have no room for them, I have so many. If I get so stressed that I cant sleep again I promise I will give you all a really tedious and unnecessary list of them.
Scout's honor.
...............................................................................................................................
Prof. Schwartz
My Ethics prof. must be the most monotoned, uninteresting professor alive, and he's completely ambivolent about philosophy. But he's really hot.
He's bald, and clean shaven, and has a stereotypical Jewish nose. But it works in his favor. He wears Khakis everyday and by the end of class the pockets have rings of chalk marks on them. He doesnt get nervous, he doesnt stammer. I'm pretty sure he's alergic to clicking his tongue, too.
He wears terrible shirts, the sleeves look to big for his arms. But you can tell that he works out. When he writes on the chalkboard he bends in a way that makes his very cute butt stick out. The tall blond girl, that asks stupid questions and sits next to me always smiles when he does this. So does the guy two seats down from me. :)
He has a platinum ring on the middle finger of his left hand. I dont know, maybe there are smart straight men after all. Or maybe he's got an amazing husband. He almost certainly lives in Park Slope, and was almost certainly raised in Brooklyn, though he doesnt have a Brooklyn accent. He does sound like he can give a mean Jewish Mother Guilt Trip though.
I wouldnt mind if he tought me a lesson. ;P
The work and school thing was a sort of catalyst to the stress. Near the end of highschool I was working 30 hours and dealing with social dilemas with ease( I was alergic to homework). But I felt almost like I had a deadline. My parents are coming on Tuesday, and dont feel like I have anything to show them. I feel like I should be able to show them that I've done something by now, that they didnt waste all of the money and energy moving me out here. I dont think I have that yet.
Now before I start sounding too self-depricating, I know I have a kickass job, I'm in school, I can pay my rent, and I'm still the only 18 year old I know that buys the Sunday Times and sets aside 30 minutes to read the book review front to back. I've made it this far. I just think that they worry that I'm not making any new friends, and I worry that I lean to heavily on the ones that I have here, mostly Michael. But I've never had a friend that I can check out guys with as openly, and he gets all my vague pop-culture references.
It just seemed that everything was going wrong, and there was no way to fix any of it.
But I fell in love with New York again. I love that this happens. I felt comfortable, felt like I was beginning to get the swing of it, that I had intergrated. Then the city sort of threw a bunch of shit at me, and I had to take care of it all. Apparently I passed.
...............................................................................................................................
No new books.
This is a big deal. I have since I was 12 years old, bought at least one book every Sunday. I have no room for them, I have so many. If I get so stressed that I cant sleep again I promise I will give you all a really tedious and unnecessary list of them.
Scout's honor.
...............................................................................................................................
Prof. Schwartz
My Ethics prof. must be the most monotoned, uninteresting professor alive, and he's completely ambivolent about philosophy. But he's really hot.
He's bald, and clean shaven, and has a stereotypical Jewish nose. But it works in his favor. He wears Khakis everyday and by the end of class the pockets have rings of chalk marks on them. He doesnt get nervous, he doesnt stammer. I'm pretty sure he's alergic to clicking his tongue, too.
He wears terrible shirts, the sleeves look to big for his arms. But you can tell that he works out. When he writes on the chalkboard he bends in a way that makes his very cute butt stick out. The tall blond girl, that asks stupid questions and sits next to me always smiles when he does this. So does the guy two seats down from me. :)
He has a platinum ring on the middle finger of his left hand. I dont know, maybe there are smart straight men after all. Or maybe he's got an amazing husband. He almost certainly lives in Park Slope, and was almost certainly raised in Brooklyn, though he doesnt have a Brooklyn accent. He does sound like he can give a mean Jewish Mother Guilt Trip though.
I wouldnt mind if he tought me a lesson. ;P
Monday, September 11, 2006
My Life is Suddenly Too Much
I am so fucking busy!
I needn't say more but I will for good measure.
Okay so heres the deal, I'll just lay it out so that you can all send me sympathy emails....
*disclaimer*: really do want sympathy emails
So this is what my plate looks like these days:
45% is school. I have 12 credit hours and alot of papers to write
60% is work. I'm working full time and want to die because my feet hurt all night. Plus cutie-putootie(I did take that from Rosie) Justin Timberlake is coming centrally-located-pain-in-my-ass-megastore on Tuesday and people are already camped out. Guess who's floor he's going to be on? And his new stuff sucks.
15% is riding the subway. I do enjoy this because it gives me time to read.
10% is going through old stories.
5% is writing new stories
and the rest is sleeping.
This equals roughly 135%
Yeah that sounds about right.
And today is not only the shittiest day of the week, its also the shittiest day of the year. And while I sit at this computer and bitch, the rest of the country(especially NYC country) is in mourning.
I have class though, with a cute Jewish prof. But more on the later.
Enjoy your free time everyone else.
I needn't say more but I will for good measure.
Okay so heres the deal, I'll just lay it out so that you can all send me sympathy emails....
*disclaimer*: really do want sympathy emails
So this is what my plate looks like these days:
45% is school. I have 12 credit hours and alot of papers to write
60% is work. I'm working full time and want to die because my feet hurt all night. Plus cutie-putootie(I did take that from Rosie) Justin Timberlake is coming centrally-located-pain-in-my-ass-megastore on Tuesday and people are already camped out. Guess who's floor he's going to be on? And his new stuff sucks.
15% is riding the subway. I do enjoy this because it gives me time to read.
10% is going through old stories.
5% is writing new stories
and the rest is sleeping.
This equals roughly 135%
Yeah that sounds about right.
And today is not only the shittiest day of the week, its also the shittiest day of the year. And while I sit at this computer and bitch, the rest of the country(especially NYC country) is in mourning.
I have class though, with a cute Jewish prof. But more on the later.
Enjoy your free time everyone else.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Sorry I'm falling behind
hey you 8 great wonderful readers! I'm sorry that the entries seem to be farther and farther apart. I just have no time to fix my computer apparently(sp?). I have great classes, great friends, and I'm determined to meet a boy if it kills me.
This unfortunatly must be brief or I will be late for work at centraly-located-unnecessarily touristy-megastore.
But someone must remind me to tell about my Labor day weekend. I went to the Metropolitan with Michael on Saturday, then spent the whole day with him again on Monday. It was great, but I must run. I apologize from the deepest depths of my digital heart(and my real one)
Have a good day, and you New Yorkers enjoy the rain.
This unfortunatly must be brief or I will be late for work at centraly-located-unnecessarily touristy-megastore.
But someone must remind me to tell about my Labor day weekend. I went to the Metropolitan with Michael on Saturday, then spent the whole day with him again on Monday. It was great, but I must run. I apologize from the deepest depths of my digital heart(and my real one)
Have a good day, and you New Yorkers enjoy the rain.
Friday, September 01, 2006
A new beginning
It seems I have fallen into some resemblence to a life here. I have friends(4 kick ass guys(including Bob)) I have a great job, I have school, I have bills. I have a schedual and everything. Its was a good vacation, minus the whole emotional breakdown or 2, but when you fall down you grow to get back up, right?
I was starting to lose my patients with the city, starting to wonder if this really is the best place for me. Of course I knew it would be hard. No one ever said that uprooting your entire life for a place you hardly know was going to be easy. But I am growing. I love new york for alot of reasons, most of the aesthetics, but its a sort of molding process I'm going through. I know, without a doubt, that I am not the same person that I was on graduation day. I dont know if I liked that person, dont know if thats the me I wanted to be anyway. I'm glad for the change, glad for the "improvement". I'm building my legs on which I'm going to be standing.
The world seems good now, seems comfortable. and I've stopped fearing Flatbush. LOl.
I was starting to lose my patients with the city, starting to wonder if this really is the best place for me. Of course I knew it would be hard. No one ever said that uprooting your entire life for a place you hardly know was going to be easy. But I am growing. I love new york for alot of reasons, most of the aesthetics, but its a sort of molding process I'm going through. I know, without a doubt, that I am not the same person that I was on graduation day. I dont know if I liked that person, dont know if thats the me I wanted to be anyway. I'm glad for the change, glad for the "improvement". I'm building my legs on which I'm going to be standing.
The world seems good now, seems comfortable. and I've stopped fearing Flatbush. LOl.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Brooklyn College Follies
So today was my first day of school. It was pretty much what I had expected it to be, crowded classrooms, overworked professors who qouted Proust because they could, and people who didnt vote. But all things considered I like my profs.
My school schedual is pretty crazy this semester. I have 2 classes Monday and Tuesday, three on Wednesday, none on Thursday and 2 on Friday. Its complete chaos.
But today being Wednesday I had 3 classes:
1st was English. Prof was nice, defenitly gay, possibly Jewish, more than likely shops at a co-op and listens to AirAmerica Radio(this is a good thing).
2nd was Ethics. Prof was...dull. Young, Defenitly Jewish, probably gay. His voice was completely monotoned.
3rd was Political Science. Prof was very hyper. Defenitly Asian, defenitly gay. Tough hyper I found myself looking at the clock.
Tomarrow is a free day, which means...errands. Post office, bills, laundry, editing, and catching up with amigos here, some of whom I havent seen in a very long time.
After the errands I have to work. I really love my job at centrally-located-tourist-attracted-mega-store. I'm working in the book department now. I get to bring my own music, gotta love that. I hope they let me play all of it.
Oh and I'll hopefully have my own computer up and running by Sunday. I havent heard from Bob since Monday and I havent heard from James since the fight at Bob's. But considering my unwainging codependence on him that may be for the best.
I'm also glad it stopped fucking rainging here.
My school schedual is pretty crazy this semester. I have 2 classes Monday and Tuesday, three on Wednesday, none on Thursday and 2 on Friday. Its complete chaos.
But today being Wednesday I had 3 classes:
1st was English. Prof was nice, defenitly gay, possibly Jewish, more than likely shops at a co-op and listens to AirAmerica Radio(this is a good thing).
2nd was Ethics. Prof was...dull. Young, Defenitly Jewish, probably gay. His voice was completely monotoned.
3rd was Political Science. Prof was very hyper. Defenitly Asian, defenitly gay. Tough hyper I found myself looking at the clock.
Tomarrow is a free day, which means...errands. Post office, bills, laundry, editing, and catching up with amigos here, some of whom I havent seen in a very long time.
After the errands I have to work. I really love my job at centrally-located-tourist-attracted-mega-store. I'm working in the book department now. I get to bring my own music, gotta love that. I hope they let me play all of it.
Oh and I'll hopefully have my own computer up and running by Sunday. I havent heard from Bob since Monday and I havent heard from James since the fight at Bob's. But considering my unwainging codependence on him that may be for the best.
I'm also glad it stopped fucking rainging here.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
The Penelope Cruz thing
So my job kicks alot of ass, just so ya know. I get to talk about music all day, listen to music all day, make fun of employees and for once I'm working with people MY age. and by that I mean about 25, hehe. But anyway I'm off track already.
On my second day of work I was behind the register, ringin up the customers and these too very kind older Spanish men step up to the counter. "cool" I think, "Spanish couples or whatever."
Behind them stood a very beautiful woman, she was a little on the shorter side, great flashy smile, beautiful eyes. I smiled at her and said "I'll be with you in just a second."
She pointed to the other men to tell me she was with them. I nodded a response and continued on my way. After a few seconds it hit me, my head snapped upwards and no I wasnt going crazy it was, Penelope Cruz. I would have died but then I remembered "Head in the Clouds", no, no. I kid. I love Penelope Cruz. She smiled at me again, after she realized that only now I knew who she was.
As she was leaving, a coworker leaned over to me and said "Ya know, she went on record and said she saw the Tomatie baby?"
"Cause she was paid to. If not Tom would have had the sad dead alien spirits make use Zoloft."
And that was the story of Ms. Cruz.
Computer still broken, classes start on wednesday, and I still havent heard from Christopher in Italy. But things are good, I couldnt imagine living anywhere else now.
On my second day of work I was behind the register, ringin up the customers and these too very kind older Spanish men step up to the counter. "cool" I think, "Spanish couples or whatever."
Behind them stood a very beautiful woman, she was a little on the shorter side, great flashy smile, beautiful eyes. I smiled at her and said "I'll be with you in just a second."
She pointed to the other men to tell me she was with them. I nodded a response and continued on my way. After a few seconds it hit me, my head snapped upwards and no I wasnt going crazy it was, Penelope Cruz. I would have died but then I remembered "Head in the Clouds", no, no. I kid. I love Penelope Cruz. She smiled at me again, after she realized that only now I knew who she was.
As she was leaving, a coworker leaned over to me and said "Ya know, she went on record and said she saw the Tomatie baby?"
"Cause she was paid to. If not Tom would have had the sad dead alien spirits make use Zoloft."
And that was the story of Ms. Cruz.
Computer still broken, classes start on wednesday, and I still havent heard from Christopher in Italy. But things are good, I couldnt imagine living anywhere else now.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Computer Problems persist
So I figured out whats wrong with my lap top...everything. This is incredibly stressful considering that I need a bunch of stuff from MI to fix it all, and that my parents dont know what Windows XP is. I think I'm going to the pier, or possibly central park to fix it all, possibly write some. Possibly jump in the Hudson.
In other news. There's been no word from Mr. R-train as of yet. This saddens me greatly because, well in short, I'm lonely. I listened to Ryan Adams songs for like 45 minutes to day, completely catotonic on my floor. Not good for business.
I'm at the same cafe on University. I'm again paying too much money, but I love the 6 of you just that much. And because I love you all so much I though I might share a poem with you for this Wednesday that outta get better or I may need some book therapy.
This one I wrote about a year ago, it was post James punching.
Theres no title:
Flat on the floor
strung out on calm music.
Back to the ground, face to face with the ceiling
minds not going anywherel.
Getting up is inevitable, but
staying like this forever just feels right.
So thats that. Kind of sums up the feeling I had this morning.
Tomarrow is my first day at centraly-located-mega-store. I think I'm going to head up town now, buy a zip drive and head to the Central Park mall.
Peace commrades.
In other news. There's been no word from Mr. R-train as of yet. This saddens me greatly because, well in short, I'm lonely. I listened to Ryan Adams songs for like 45 minutes to day, completely catotonic on my floor. Not good for business.
I'm at the same cafe on University. I'm again paying too much money, but I love the 6 of you just that much. And because I love you all so much I though I might share a poem with you for this Wednesday that outta get better or I may need some book therapy.
This one I wrote about a year ago, it was post James punching.
Theres no title:
Flat on the floor
strung out on calm music.
Back to the ground, face to face with the ceiling
minds not going anywherel.
Getting up is inevitable, but
staying like this forever just feels right.
So thats that. Kind of sums up the feeling I had this morning.
Tomarrow is my first day at centraly-located-mega-store. I think I'm going to head up town now, buy a zip drive and head to the Central Park mall.
Peace commrades.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Email problems.....
So yesterday my computer crashed for the first time ever. I almost cried, not that I'm a sissy or anything.
When I rebooted and got everything running again, it was a complete mess. I cant open media player, I cant access blogger, and worst of all my email is at the throes of an angry virus. I need help, bad.
I personally blame MSN messenger Beta, its a P.O.S. and hotmail Live Beta was a complete Monet. It looks pretty, it even feels pretty, but on the inside its nothin but ugly.
I'm currently at an internet cafe on University Place paying 18 cents a fucking minute to check my Email.
But because I love all six of you I will update you on life.
Friday I gave Michael his present and I got a good feeling that he liked it. His kept saying things like "Oh Wooooow" and "how the hell did you find this?!?"
He teaches early Christian history at a college here in the city and speaks a whole cacophony of languages, Smarty I know.
I was in a bookstore between Chelsea and Union Sq. and found 3 books that would be perfect for him. The first was Jack London's "The Wanderer" in french, the Second was a play by Camus(also in French) and the third was an essay on Dante in english but from 1879. So in short, he shit a brick(pardon my French).
Saturday I went out with Bob. And it was really, odd.
I got to his apartment, things that usually transpire with Bob transpired and when we got done, James called me.(Now dont think I'm the kind of guy that answers the phone post....This was as we were walking out the door and I apologized profusely to Bob about it). I asked him about the phone call. This was the conversation:
James: What the fuck is up with your voicemail?
Me: You're the one that called me.
James: Jesse I would never have called and said that.
Me: Hind sight is 20/20
James: what?
me: never mind.
James: I think you dreamed it up.
me: Are yo-
James: I think youre lonely.
Me(with Bob's hand in my pocket): Believe me, I'm not lonely.
Bob: HAHAHAHAHAAHA
James: Whose that?
Me(Bob reaching for my phone): A special friend, I got to go.
"click"
Then Bob took me to Sushi, at a place on University Place ironically. I'm looking at it right now. We then went to a movie at the Quad Cinema. We were walking back to his car and I'm about to step off the curb to get in when he says "I think I'm going to head home."
"Okay, " I say " Lets go"
"No I mean I'm really beat, I think I'M going to go home."
"Oh....Okay. Do you want me to ride back with you or do you want me to catch the train at Union Sq.?"
"Doesnt matter."
"I'll just catch the train here"
"Okay."
He doesnt even hug me goodbye. I watch his car drive down 13th street, a kind of disappointment stirring in me. I call Ms. B tell what happened as I walk to Union Sq. The train ride is lonely, as all train rides seem to be. The whole way I'm thinking about Mr. R-train. Kicking myself for not "fully" introducing myself to him. Wondering if he's a reader.
And Sunday....My fucking computer crashed.
Tomarrow I have orientation at "big ass mega store". I'll let you know how it goes.
When I rebooted and got everything running again, it was a complete mess. I cant open media player, I cant access blogger, and worst of all my email is at the throes of an angry virus. I need help, bad.
I personally blame MSN messenger Beta, its a P.O.S. and hotmail Live Beta was a complete Monet. It looks pretty, it even feels pretty, but on the inside its nothin but ugly.
I'm currently at an internet cafe on University Place paying 18 cents a fucking minute to check my Email.
But because I love all six of you I will update you on life.
Friday I gave Michael his present and I got a good feeling that he liked it. His kept saying things like "Oh Wooooow" and "how the hell did you find this?!?"
He teaches early Christian history at a college here in the city and speaks a whole cacophony of languages, Smarty I know.
I was in a bookstore between Chelsea and Union Sq. and found 3 books that would be perfect for him. The first was Jack London's "The Wanderer" in french, the Second was a play by Camus(also in French) and the third was an essay on Dante in english but from 1879. So in short, he shit a brick(pardon my French).
Saturday I went out with Bob. And it was really, odd.
I got to his apartment, things that usually transpire with Bob transpired and when we got done, James called me.(Now dont think I'm the kind of guy that answers the phone post....This was as we were walking out the door and I apologized profusely to Bob about it). I asked him about the phone call. This was the conversation:
James: What the fuck is up with your voicemail?
Me: You're the one that called me.
James: Jesse I would never have called and said that.
Me: Hind sight is 20/20
James: what?
me: never mind.
James: I think you dreamed it up.
me: Are yo-
James: I think youre lonely.
Me(with Bob's hand in my pocket): Believe me, I'm not lonely.
Bob: HAHAHAHAHAAHA
James: Whose that?
Me(Bob reaching for my phone): A special friend, I got to go.
"click"
Then Bob took me to Sushi, at a place on University Place ironically. I'm looking at it right now. We then went to a movie at the Quad Cinema. We were walking back to his car and I'm about to step off the curb to get in when he says "I think I'm going to head home."
"Okay, " I say " Lets go"
"No I mean I'm really beat, I think I'M going to go home."
"Oh....Okay. Do you want me to ride back with you or do you want me to catch the train at Union Sq.?"
"Doesnt matter."
"I'll just catch the train here"
"Okay."
He doesnt even hug me goodbye. I watch his car drive down 13th street, a kind of disappointment stirring in me. I call Ms. B tell what happened as I walk to Union Sq. The train ride is lonely, as all train rides seem to be. The whole way I'm thinking about Mr. R-train. Kicking myself for not "fully" introducing myself to him. Wondering if he's a reader.
And Sunday....My fucking computer crashed.
Tomarrow I have orientation at "big ass mega store". I'll let you know how it goes.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Today is a very good day
So because I'm still kind of lathargic even though its almost 1:30 I'm going to just make a list of some things and you can decide for yourselves if things are looking up for me.
1.) I'm now employed.
2.) My parents are coming to visit me on Sept. 19th.
3.) I found an autographed copy of one of my favorite books("I am not Myself These Days") at Barnes & Noble.
4.) I bought a shit load of great music recently: Doves "Some Cities"; Sleater-Kinney "One Beat"; David Bowie "Greatest Hits"; Snow Patrol "Eyes Open"; Scissor Sisters (self Titled); and the best one Miles Davis "Kind Of Blue"!!!!! Does it get better than Miles Davis?
5.) My friend Loved his presents(more on that later)
6.) I have clean laundry :P
7.) I'm almost certain that the man from the subway is out there thinking about me, because I'm certainly thinking about him.
8.) I have 3 overdue movies at Blockbuster.
9.) I'm hanging out with Bob later today.
10.) Its Saturday in NYC
11.) And I have to tell the story of how I realized I'm becoming a New Yorker.
1.) I'm now employed.
2.) My parents are coming to visit me on Sept. 19th.
3.) I found an autographed copy of one of my favorite books("I am not Myself These Days") at Barnes & Noble.
4.) I bought a shit load of great music recently: Doves "Some Cities"; Sleater-Kinney "One Beat"; David Bowie "Greatest Hits"; Snow Patrol "Eyes Open"; Scissor Sisters (self Titled); and the best one Miles Davis "Kind Of Blue"!!!!! Does it get better than Miles Davis?
5.) My friend Loved his presents(more on that later)
6.) I have clean laundry :P
7.) I'm almost certain that the man from the subway is out there thinking about me, because I'm certainly thinking about him.
8.) I have 3 overdue movies at Blockbuster.
9.) I'm hanging out with Bob later today.
10.) Its Saturday in NYC
11.) And I have to tell the story of how I realized I'm becoming a New Yorker.
Friday, August 18, 2006
the 30 seconds I fell in love today
So today was a very good day for this boy in this city. Firstly and most importantly and with nothing to do with this title at all: I got a job!!!! I'm working at a very well known "mega" store in a very well known "Square". If you dont know by that then you need to turn back and start "Hop on Pop" at page 1. Just kidding I love my readers....all 4 of you.
But more on that later.
So I was waiting for the trusty Q train today at Union Sq. station. I had just bough a couple of CD's and a new book that I had read before.(If that makes any sense.) I entered at the 16th street entrance and walked down the platform, then I saw him, and let me tell you right now, he was pretty.
We made eye contact and I though he was just checking me out, because I was defenitly checking him out. But he smiled and I fell completely head over heals for him. I walked past him slightly, David Bowie's "Hero's" starting on my CD player. He would look my was periodically, checking to see if I was there. I pretended to play it cool, act like I was mildly interested in him, like I had been through this before.
He was, I'm guessing 21, probably had a summer internship, at some law firm near Gramercy Park. He had an attractive purple shirt and everything else was black, except of course for his ipod head phones. Dark eyes, dark hair, very good looking. He was shy, and I knew it. I was shy too however and he knew it also. I wished beyond any wish that he would walked up to me.
The Q train was coming from a distance, I looked at him, he gave me a look of longing, which I returned. Then I smiled to myself and he looked slightly confused. We were across the platform from each other. He was waiting for the R, I knew this because as I approached him the W was just leaving.
The Q train doors opened, he smiled kindly as if to say "It was good wanting to know you". The train doors closed, he turned to watch the train go, and saw me standing there against the collum looking at him, still shy. The something came over me, as the N train approached. I knew I had to take this one or I wouldnt be getting home anytime soon, so I took out my NY AM and wrote my number on it. He watched me intently, as I set it down next to the collum and entered the train.
He glided over, picked it as the doors dinged closed. He read it quickly, flashing me a toothy smile that made my heart melt. He showed my a peace sign which I returned with quickly, and as the train pulled away I saw him digging in his messenger bag and retrieving his cell phone.
I'll be honest, my heart skipped a beat.
But more on that later.
So I was waiting for the trusty Q train today at Union Sq. station. I had just bough a couple of CD's and a new book that I had read before.(If that makes any sense.) I entered at the 16th street entrance and walked down the platform, then I saw him, and let me tell you right now, he was pretty.
We made eye contact and I though he was just checking me out, because I was defenitly checking him out. But he smiled and I fell completely head over heals for him. I walked past him slightly, David Bowie's "Hero's" starting on my CD player. He would look my was periodically, checking to see if I was there. I pretended to play it cool, act like I was mildly interested in him, like I had been through this before.
He was, I'm guessing 21, probably had a summer internship, at some law firm near Gramercy Park. He had an attractive purple shirt and everything else was black, except of course for his ipod head phones. Dark eyes, dark hair, very good looking. He was shy, and I knew it. I was shy too however and he knew it also. I wished beyond any wish that he would walked up to me.
The Q train was coming from a distance, I looked at him, he gave me a look of longing, which I returned. Then I smiled to myself and he looked slightly confused. We were across the platform from each other. He was waiting for the R, I knew this because as I approached him the W was just leaving.
The Q train doors opened, he smiled kindly as if to say "It was good wanting to know you". The train doors closed, he turned to watch the train go, and saw me standing there against the collum looking at him, still shy. The something came over me, as the N train approached. I knew I had to take this one or I wouldnt be getting home anytime soon, so I took out my NY AM and wrote my number on it. He watched me intently, as I set it down next to the collum and entered the train.
He glided over, picked it as the doors dinged closed. He read it quickly, flashing me a toothy smile that made my heart melt. He showed my a peace sign which I returned with quickly, and as the train pulled away I saw him digging in his messenger bag and retrieving his cell phone.
I'll be honest, my heart skipped a beat.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
A poem for Wednesday
This is a poem that is first in a series that have the same opening line. They're observations on various things: kinds of people, musicc, the state of the world, friends of mine. They may seem depressing to some, but nevertheless I hope you like it, if I get good feed back I'll post a few others.
I’m not getting anywhere here No. 1
Part 1
I’m not getting anywhere here
No one can hear me.
I’m screaming at gun point
Looking for meaning.
The woman, she’s crying
And Johna is dying.
No one looks fleetingly,
At the phoenix
Don’t take this for granted
Temporary at best.
As you slash and burn,
Reignition.
Though I’m stationary now.
I’m silently screaming,
On a pedestal.
To a throng of political ghosts
And public apparitions.
While her back is to the door,
Fiddling with the knob.
In my slight methodical hell
I await the resignation
In the shallows.
Part 2
Foxy fever dreams
Guide me to my post
While my woman cascades
Down the stairs.
Collectively disfigured
Standing free formed and disillusioned
Anger leads me to intolerance
The human way
At best
Soap opera wont end,
Pregnancy scare second term.
And my head will only hit the wall
Six times before I pass out.
Calmed by my coma.
But fever dreams persist.
Part 3
And I’m killed by her courage
She mounted the stairs
Met me on the landing
Questioned my confidence
She’s left standing
In the shallows
Slash and burn
I’ve become
something proud
no ones won.
I’m not getting anywhere here No. 1
Part 1
I’m not getting anywhere here
No one can hear me.
I’m screaming at gun point
Looking for meaning.
The woman, she’s crying
And Johna is dying.
No one looks fleetingly,
At the phoenix
Don’t take this for granted
Temporary at best.
As you slash and burn,
Reignition.
Though I’m stationary now.
I’m silently screaming,
On a pedestal.
To a throng of political ghosts
And public apparitions.
While her back is to the door,
Fiddling with the knob.
In my slight methodical hell
I await the resignation
In the shallows.
Part 2
Foxy fever dreams
Guide me to my post
While my woman cascades
Down the stairs.
Collectively disfigured
Standing free formed and disillusioned
Anger leads me to intolerance
The human way
At best
Soap opera wont end,
Pregnancy scare second term.
And my head will only hit the wall
Six times before I pass out.
Calmed by my coma.
But fever dreams persist.
Part 3
And I’m killed by her courage
She mounted the stairs
Met me on the landing
Questioned my confidence
She’s left standing
In the shallows
Slash and burn
I’ve become
something proud
no ones won.
So the thing about this James guy
So I felt it necessary to clear up some James stuff, seeing as my other post might be a little confusing.
James was the first person I ever came out to. And the first person to say "I know what you mean". He was a typical bad boy: drinking, smoking, a short attempt at cocain. During this I was or felt like I was his guide post.
When I went through my hard times: deep depression, anger, my parents relentless illnesses. He was my guide post as well.
So of course I fell completely in love with him. I loved close contact with him. Knowing his eyes were on me when I wasnt looking, not sexually, just on me. We would be in a group of people and he would throw me this smile, this brief sort of "you know me best" smile. Like we had a secret.
We used to go to a coffee shop 20 miles away every Thursday. We would drink coffee, smoke Camels(I quit), wear our hearts on our sleeves. And he always seemed to hint that he felt something along the lines of what I felt for him.
Then.
We were in his basement, smoking, talking about our lives. I may have said something along the lines of: "I cant wait until highschool is over so we can finally be together". He looked at me, completely serious "Jesse, I have to tell you something...and I feel like complete shit doing this to you". I just sat there, I knew what he was going to say, but I half expected this conversation to transpire.
"I'm not....I dont feel the same way about you as you feel about me. We're very different in alot of ways."
Silence.
"I'm not gay. I said it because I didnt want you to feel so alone, I know that highschool is tuff on kids and I didnt want you to end up like all those kids that commit suicide."
"You lied to me, to help me...stay alive?" I asked.
"I feel like shit. You know I feel like shit about this. You're really important to me, you are, but I just cant be that," he pleaded.
I stood up,"I'm gunna go. I need to do some think-."
"No dont go, sit talk to me. What do you feel? Tell me." He begged me to stay but I just couldnt do it.
"Betrayed." I said shortly, "and a little foolish." I walked to the stairs, took them two at a time. He caught me at the top, right in front of the door. He kissed me, shaking, weak, embaressed. Thats how I knew he was lying to himself not me.
I stared at him slightly bewildered, slighty angry, even more in love with him. I pushed the door open, I left the house in a few quick, long steps and dug in my sweat shirt pocket for my car keys. I found them, fumbling with the lock; completely coming apart inside. I heard him burst out of the door. He ran up to me, leaned me against the car, I could barely stand, I felt me heart physically drop from my body. But I hadnt started crying yet.
"Please dont go," he said "I want be this for you, but I'm scared. You put all this pressure on me."
"Let go of me James."
"No."
I pushed him off me, my door was unlocked. All I knew was that I couldnt cry in front of him.
When I pushed him off me, he got angry, pushed me back against the side of my car, my keys falling to the ground.
I looked at him shocked, my shoulders hurt, our eyes connected.
"I'm trying to reason with you damnit!" He yelled.
I swung, closing my eyes. I hoped to connect with anything, anything that would get MY point accross. I hit something hard, boney flesh, it felt maliable under my knuckles. I didnt hear him hit the ground, but he did.
I looked down at him, still angry and consumed with regret, and love, angry love.
I had hit him near the ear, just under it, where the jaw-line starts to form. I had also grazed his nose, which was now bleeding. He looked at me shocked.
"Oh shit," I said.
"I dont know what to do now," he said "Have you ever hit anyone before."
"No"
He made a "hmph" noise as I helped him to his feet. He looked at his house, the color from the t.v. shining the back wall of his living room. His parents were watching C.S.I. completely unaware.
"What are you going to tell your parents," I asked, blood still trickling out of his nose.
"Nothing," he said looking into my eyes "they probably wont even know I went outside.
"James I-,"
"You go home, we'll talk about this some other time, if we ever talk about it at all." He said, our eyes still connected he was sending me rays, he was completely vulnerable and it made me love him even more.
"I'm sorry." I said.
"So am I," he said. "Physical bruises, emtional ones." he said putting his hand on my chest. I felt my heart jump back into my body.
I brushed him off, he picked up my keys. He waited until I backed out of the driveway to turn around. While he waited I saw him pull out another Camel, light it, take a long drag. I smiled to myself.
James was the first person I ever came out to. And the first person to say "I know what you mean". He was a typical bad boy: drinking, smoking, a short attempt at cocain. During this I was or felt like I was his guide post.
When I went through my hard times: deep depression, anger, my parents relentless illnesses. He was my guide post as well.
So of course I fell completely in love with him. I loved close contact with him. Knowing his eyes were on me when I wasnt looking, not sexually, just on me. We would be in a group of people and he would throw me this smile, this brief sort of "you know me best" smile. Like we had a secret.
We used to go to a coffee shop 20 miles away every Thursday. We would drink coffee, smoke Camels(I quit), wear our hearts on our sleeves. And he always seemed to hint that he felt something along the lines of what I felt for him.
Then.
We were in his basement, smoking, talking about our lives. I may have said something along the lines of: "I cant wait until highschool is over so we can finally be together". He looked at me, completely serious "Jesse, I have to tell you something...and I feel like complete shit doing this to you". I just sat there, I knew what he was going to say, but I half expected this conversation to transpire.
"I'm not....I dont feel the same way about you as you feel about me. We're very different in alot of ways."
Silence.
"I'm not gay. I said it because I didnt want you to feel so alone, I know that highschool is tuff on kids and I didnt want you to end up like all those kids that commit suicide."
"You lied to me, to help me...stay alive?" I asked.
"I feel like shit. You know I feel like shit about this. You're really important to me, you are, but I just cant be that," he pleaded.
I stood up,"I'm gunna go. I need to do some think-."
"No dont go, sit talk to me. What do you feel? Tell me." He begged me to stay but I just couldnt do it.
"Betrayed." I said shortly, "and a little foolish." I walked to the stairs, took them two at a time. He caught me at the top, right in front of the door. He kissed me, shaking, weak, embaressed. Thats how I knew he was lying to himself not me.
I stared at him slightly bewildered, slighty angry, even more in love with him. I pushed the door open, I left the house in a few quick, long steps and dug in my sweat shirt pocket for my car keys. I found them, fumbling with the lock; completely coming apart inside. I heard him burst out of the door. He ran up to me, leaned me against the car, I could barely stand, I felt me heart physically drop from my body. But I hadnt started crying yet.
"Please dont go," he said "I want be this for you, but I'm scared. You put all this pressure on me."
"Let go of me James."
"No."
I pushed him off me, my door was unlocked. All I knew was that I couldnt cry in front of him.
When I pushed him off me, he got angry, pushed me back against the side of my car, my keys falling to the ground.
I looked at him shocked, my shoulders hurt, our eyes connected.
"I'm trying to reason with you damnit!" He yelled.
I swung, closing my eyes. I hoped to connect with anything, anything that would get MY point accross. I hit something hard, boney flesh, it felt maliable under my knuckles. I didnt hear him hit the ground, but he did.
I looked down at him, still angry and consumed with regret, and love, angry love.
I had hit him near the ear, just under it, where the jaw-line starts to form. I had also grazed his nose, which was now bleeding. He looked at me shocked.
"Oh shit," I said.
"I dont know what to do now," he said "Have you ever hit anyone before."
"No"
He made a "hmph" noise as I helped him to his feet. He looked at his house, the color from the t.v. shining the back wall of his living room. His parents were watching C.S.I. completely unaware.
"What are you going to tell your parents," I asked, blood still trickling out of his nose.
"Nothing," he said looking into my eyes "they probably wont even know I went outside.
"James I-,"
"You go home, we'll talk about this some other time, if we ever talk about it at all." He said, our eyes still connected he was sending me rays, he was completely vulnerable and it made me love him even more.
"I'm sorry." I said.
"So am I," he said. "Physical bruises, emtional ones." he said putting his hand on my chest. I felt my heart jump back into my body.
I brushed him off, he picked up my keys. He waited until I backed out of the driveway to turn around. While he waited I saw him pull out another Camel, light it, take a long drag. I smiled to myself.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
The comments thing
So I love getting comments on my blog. It makes me REALLY happy knowing that people are actually reading it and I'm on here just telling nobody my life story but I'd like to know who you all are as well. So if you, please leave at least your name when you comment. I would greatly appreciate it.
Thank you,
Jesse
Thank you,
Jesse
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