Wednesday, October 17, 2007

i left my shoes in the car. don't be so surprised when you see them today.

in a clean room, you can think more directionally.

when people ask her, "so, how's old boy?" i'm sure she just says, "he's good." yeah, they call me old boy down there. i'm not sure if it's some sort of knock on my age, and the fact that she's twenty and i'm twenty five, or if their country voices can only carry the proper things to say about as far as they can stand to improve themselves. but i know that's what i say when anyone who cares to ask me asks. "she's good." i mean, what can i throw in for detail?

"she's good, man! she goes to her sister's volleyball games, and has this weird thing going on with her manager where he's sort of in love with her, but you know, she's in denial. um, her best friend, a male here ya know, left her a voicemail that says he wants to kiss her on the forehead and tell her how much he loves her. yeah, like, she's just working for gamestop, and chillin' out. i make her cry sometimes, i'm so scared over here and i project the fear directly onto her canvas! can you believe it?"

but again, there's that whole bottleneck effect. i mean, when they ask her about old boy, i'm sure she says, "he's good." if she wanted to really roll on about her end, it'd be something like, "yeah! he's good, i think. he just got offered his own store, but turned it down. yeah, something about wanting to work for two more months doing the same sorts of things, just with more people in the store. he plays a lot of games, and watches a lot of movies, for the most part alone. wonders why i don't listen to the cds he sends down here. talks way too much about sports, and is weird, i guess. says weird things. talks to himself out loud to me."

but i think about how little that defines me, yeah? i think a more accurate description of old boy as me would be:

"he's probably the best he's been in a very long time! listens to a lot of music that means a lot to him, more than it would if he had been through less. finds a lot of one liners in and out of those songs of his that mean more than they were intended. something about specific unintentions. he's found two of his best friends again, doesn't want to leave them, but wants to be with me, and is so confused about the whole situation. and we're getting married. we'll see as much as we can see for the dollar that we can spend. a vagabond life. drinks a little bit alone. drinks with his sister who's not really his sister a little bit, laughs/thinks more than he thought he was capable of. my baby he's beautiful because he's alive, thinks he's ugly because he's still living in that world of bodies."

or something.

found someone in her who i thought i'd never find. got the Little Lover and the Baby Talker in there, the one who says how much she loves me in twenty one different ways, each one progressively decreasing in age and maturity level. got the creator, the one who paints for herself and for me, and writes on a random whim; makes me think "what does that have to do with US," then remember if everything i wrote was about us, she'd probably be dead or armless by now. she thinks, and if i would just unleash a thought tornado at her just once, she might just have something to say about it.

my baby, i think she'd be so disappointed in me on some days.
on others, i think she's be so in love with me.
for the same reasons, yeah?

just move here and live life with me and do things with me, and live with me somewhere new. i'll keep you here, right next to me. and we'll be so happy.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

a nonrequitable pacifist.

knowing full well how the job works, i fully anticipated waking up, waiting until gamestop opened, and going in to pickup my copy of the phantom hourglass. again, knowing FULL well that the damn shipment doesn't come until at least 11:30. idiot.

i saw across the universe for the second time last night. still don't feel like i need to see another movie ever again.

i'm not generally a night time dreamer. if there are any fantasies, voluntary or not, they come to me while i'm awake. performing processes, etc. but last night, as i slept on carissa's couch, praying in my shallow sleep for the cat to not start his rumored biting, i had THREE dreams. and maybe, i do dream often, i just can't remember them. this time, though, i wrote them on my hand. well, the "titles" of them anyway. and each dream, however short its description, is labeled as the one i dream-scribed on my palm.

ryan mcgregor & vegas
for whatever reason, ryan mcgregor and i were at a hotel in las vegas. it didn't outwardly feel like any conference, or anything, but as the entire thing panned out, it seemed that there were people there from all throughout my life. division avenue high school, FYE #1783, gamestop 2605, loews, nassau community college, family gatherings... everyone who was there was somehow tethered to my life. not necessarily negatively, just was somewhere in my glossary of faces. and we started obliterating them with bottles and chairs and tables and guns and grenades. it was like a street brawling video game, but no one saw it coming. people would see us and get psyched, or happy, or at least salutatious, but we would then begin to bring the pain. it was violent. vicious. we were really throwing down on these folks. it was unnecessary. but the overall feeling of the dream was positive. i was having FUN doing this.

this was one of those dreams that appears as a relevant documentary. most of the imagery was of grasshoppers, mantises in old film stock footage. eating some form of acorn or grain. and as i was seeing all of this, i had the distinct feeling that what it was that they were eating was in plentiful supply around where i was at the time. i never saw me or my surroundings. and as i was watching and realizing this, i started to get the stinging realization that they were coming.

soul team
a female friend of mine and i were laying on a couch, reading a magazine. laughing and talking and being our random selves. at some point, she rolled on top of me, and pushed me on my back, and wiped my lips with her fingers and smiled down at me. we kept talking about the magazine, and moving in together. i rolled her down and lay on top of her, and sort of looked into her eyes and continued talking, and she was doing the same. it was almost like we were having this intense makeout session but our lips never touched, not once. a few times, we came close, and we kept touching each others faces, and lips while we were talking. but it never actually happened.