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Saturday, January 27, 2001
Last night was interesting in the extreme. I think the saving grace of the movie experience was that it was really good. (The movie.) I think Nova was uncomfortable, though. The shit that I was afraid of happening is going to happen. So me and Emre took off in his Honda Accord, and he put on some German rap that was just the shit. I made him promise to let me burn a copy of it sometime. It reminded me of some of the French rap that Kedree let me listen to when I danced at Ferns' house. MC Solaar, Iam, and Passi. Good shit, man.
We picked up some munchies from Wendys'...I got a frosty, and made a huge mess of everything. When he said that thing about having a crush on me, I was kind of pressed for a response. What does one say to that sort of thing, I wonder? It was flattering, but I didn't want to give him any kind of flase premonition about how I felt. We got to his house, and I met his dad (who seems fairly norm, smokes bud apparently, the uje.) We sat in his room for a long time, and he showed me a bunch of his stuff, like pics from Germany, where he stays in the summer, and just talked about everything. Sports and school and smoking and Jesus, I don't know. It was really cool; not often that you can find yourself connected to someone in a non-superficial way.
I have no idea what to do with myself. I know that I'm in no way ready for any kind of relationship...do I want one? What the fuck. Caoimhin is just being a little bitch is what. This will take some consideration on my part.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 4:47 PM
Holy shit...what a night. All I can say. Christ. Well, Emre waited for me outside my second period today, and we chatted for a little while. He was like, blah blah, what are you doing tonight? Me, taken aback, well, "nothing." "Maybe we can kick it." So we finally get around to making plans after school, and to make a long story short, me, Novabean, and Emre all ended up at the movie theatre watching "Snatch", which, by the way, is extremely high quality kick your shit movie. I want to be British. No shit. Wow. So anyways, Novabean was uncomfortable because she had a thing with him, but I think she had an okay time. So we were in the theatre and apparently my parents were in the SAME movie theatre, hopefully not the SAME movie THEATRE, because I was laughing and swearing like a sailor. (Well, you know.) Then, afterwards, since Nova wanted to go and hang out with Mr. Retard (affectionately said, of course) I said, hell, I'll just go with Emre. She gave me The Look, like I was going to get into his pants or something the minute she turned her back. Well, we went to Wendys, grabbed some munchies, and he asked me if I had anything else I was doing, what time I had to be home, etc. I said nothing, 12:00. He said, well, my dad's home, and he's been wanting to meet you. Oh, really? Yeah, fuck, he's been hearing about you for two years.
This was news to me. I knew that Emre used to like me, but I thought it was just of the infatuation sort, not the kind you talk to your dad about for two years. He was all like, you know why? Because I had the biggest crush on you.
I'll be freaking cow-kicked by a mule. Wow. I'm sure if this had happened during middle school, I would have been rendered completely speechless in his presence and pissed my pants. Well, we went to his house, and just hung out for like, I don't know, a couple hours, at least, and we just talked and it was very cool. He is really a cool guy; he's spent roughly half his life in Germany with his mom, and her 25-year-old Jamaican husband. He's also pretty damn smart, but shit. I don't know. I'm tired and I got a tournament tomorrow, so I'm going to check out and rip into this bad-boy later. Goodnight, world.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 12:19 AM
Thursday, January 25, 2001
Day today...good morning, world. I'm doing very well, thanks. Emre walked me to 2nd period today...what a cutie. I hate teenage lingo...hand of God, smack me now. He doesn't seem put off by me at all. What a strange occurence. It's kind of funny...I remember back in the day when he was this huge popular stud in Middle School and all the girlies were all about Emre...one particularly foul wench named LeAnne was quite enamored with him...she was snatchy. I like the name...Emre. Emre Emre Emre. If I have a kid, I'm going to give him a name like Emre that he'll have to spell out every time someone needs to write it down.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 2:51 PM
Wednesday, January 24, 2001
Well, I have finished my racism essay. I think I've used the phrase "racial sentiments" at least thirty or so times. And I've been editing and reediting so much that I have truly become unhinged. Yesterday, I typed from 5:30 until 9:00 when Evil Nazi Sister kicked me off so she could communicate with the world via AOL IM. I blathered on mindlessly for a good three pages, you know, bullshitting about Huck Finn and what not. It really sucked major ass. The last part was good...I might post that.
I asked Emre to tolo yesterday. The teacher made a test especially for him with the extra question at the end. She added in multiple choices, apparently, like A) I'd love to, B)I'll have to think about it, or C)Hell no. Novabean said that he was smiling and said he would go. What a freaking ingenious idea. Unfortunately, I didn't see him for the rest of the day because he goes to the Occupational Skills Center for third and fourth period.
So I finally saw him today in between first and second period. He was coming out of the double doors and I was coming down the stairs. I saw him, and I just got a huge grin on my face.
"So, how'd you do on your history test?," I asked.
"Great!" he said, hugging me."I'd love to go with you!"
(How come I never noticed how incredibly HOT he is?)
"I'll give you a call sometime,"he said.
"You can get my number from Novabean," I replied.
"I already got it."
Yow. Rrrrr...Foxy. Really nice eyes, you know? I have to be careful here too, because Novabean had a small thing with him. Goddamn if she didn't have one with everyone. Jesus. The reason that it's so hard to find eligible guys at Bluorchid because most of them have gotten with her...not saying that sexual liberation is a bad thing, persay, but it certainly has limited MY dating options. Grump grump grump. I wouldn't even dream of telling her about Martecus; she'd flip out and one of us would have to be carried out on a stretcher. I love her to death, but she is NOT the most understanding person. No, indeed. With Moonhuck, things would just get weird.
People, do you understand how well I'm doing about Caoimhin right now? So good it hurts. Ouch. It's a good deal easier to break up when the break-ee is so far away, thankfully. I'm having an easier time because there's next to no chance that I'm going to run into him in the library or between classes. Also, Emre and Martecus have provided an ample amount of distraction so that sliding into the cold pond once again is easy and actually quite fun. Although I'm sure this will all backfire on me and what not.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 12:53 PM
Monday, January 22, 2001
Well. Here's another bleary-eyed musing for you...I'm in the midst of writing up a three week project in the span of a typing session which began at approximately seven o' clock, and has thus far extended into ten o' clock. What project might this be? Comparing and contrasting racial elements from the time of Huck Finn and current views...everything is starting to swim around the screen and shit. So far I've gotten three pages of in depth analytical thinking pertaining to society's current racial issues, but haven't even skimmed the surface of the 19th Century. Ack. I cannot manage a linear thought process at this moment...today has been nothing but a strange melee of Martecus-daydreams and desperate attempts to remain awake during my classes. My English teacher loved my wrestling essay...(which I will post one of these goddamn days...perhaps in another caffeine-deprived brain twitch...) she even made a copy for herself and refused to hand it back to me. She said it was "beautiful" and the "voice shines through." It also made her "laugh out loud."
Tomorrow is "Ask-Emre-to-Tolo-Day." The battle plan: in his history class tomorrow morning, a test is planned. So, we (me, Novabean, and the teacher) are creating a special test for Emre with an extra question at the end, written in German (because he speaks German) and hopefully things will go smoothly and he won't refuse the offer. I should shower, but I'm so bloody tired I figure that it can wait til morning...yeah, like getting up an extra hour and a half earlier will cure the sleepies right away.
Why is America so fucking retarded? You think by now someone would have figured it out. What with our nation being so genius and all.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 10:14 PM
Sunday, January 21, 2001
Last night: swing dancing. Well, "tango"ing. It was pretty cool. I keep forgetting how truly noxious my graceful dancing skills are. Hell, I can flip around and swing like there's no tomorrow, (I'm capable of mastering only the extremely difficult acrobatic moves.) But when I try to be graceful and "melt like butter," something goes wrong and I end up trying to lead. Maybe I'm supposed to be a man. Who knows. But I mastered the simple tango step pretty nicely, and Marty and I are working on a throwing routine that's pretty damn smooth. He's foxy. Yow. But more of that later.
We were at the Seattle Center last night, slightly out of place amidst senior citizens and the set of scrawny-yet-well-meaning city kids. There was Marty, who was wearing huge pants and a boarding shirt (and happens to look perpetually stoned. And me, wearing a towel-cloth tank top with a rather flamboyant magenta lace bra (underneath, in the designated undergarment area,) with a stud belt and Vans. Oh yes. And this fabulous pair of enormous hoop earrings. There are lessons (3$; Tango) before the main dance (5$, mix) and unfortunately, there wasn't very much energetic west-coast swing going on...it was more of the tame "rhumba" variety. So Marty and I just started hucking each other around the dance floor, irregardless of whose ankles we took out. We got a couple inquirous looks, but for the most part entertained a good portion of the crowd who liked acrobatics as much as we did.
And let me tell you, the old folks know how to cut a rug. They made us look like drooling toddlers. But drooling toddlers having a lot of fun, no less. Next week is "Tripletime Swing" which sounds REALLY, REALLY cool, but Marty can't go because he's going raving for his birthday. Understandable, but disappointing. I mean, who the hell else would I take? And I think it's Tolo Night anyways. Oh well. Another day, another dollar. I think I'm going to ask Novabean's friend (and guy-who-used-to-like-me) Emre. He's really cool; ghetto but fiercely intelligent.
I had a lot of fun; I never get to see Martecus anymore. He's got to be one of the best people to exchange good old fashioned shit with, you know? Sometimes we'll both get in so far that we forget what we were arguing in the first place. In fact, when he was giving me a particularly odorous piece of shit last night, I tried to give him a good whack on the shoulder, but accidentally popped him in the eye with my malificent little fist. It was funny as hell, but I felt kind of bad. You know, what with having punched someone in the eye and all.
Besides, an extremely crucial turning point in my mental well-being occured last night. I've let go of Caoimhin. Honest, people.That's not to say there is no lingering wistfulness or a certain remembered fondess, and the possibility of a rehookup is still plausible, but damned if I need him like I thought I did. There's a whole goddamn world out there, and I'm not going to waste my life waiting for something that I know damned well isn't waiting for me.
Apres dance, we hit up Dick's for some burgers. His car is one of the few cars which are crappier than mine. It's a '79 Dodge somethingerother. It's missing the cloth on the ceiling, so there's bits and patches of fuzzy brown insulation-type material clinging to the metal. The AM radio had been taken out, and there was a blanket thrown over the front seat covering an utterly dilapidated mess of vinyl interior. He only has a key for the ignition, so at least one door must be left unlocked at any given time, or he'll have to bust in the window (which has happened before, apparently.) Also, that one door can't be the passenger door because it doesn't even have a door handle. I'm also pretty damn sure that the heating doesn't work because we rolled the window down to let some heat in. Martecus is apparently well-adjusted to such conditions, because he happily forfeited his huge boarding coat to me and we were on our way "back to his place" where we snogged for a half hour. We were just sitting on his Standard Couch, watching something like "From Dusk Til Dawn" or what have you, and BOOM.
He tasted like cigars. I can't decide if I'm widly repulsed or vaguely excited by it. Will meditate on it later. We passed out simultaneously on the couch. Literally. Swinging 'n' Snogging will do that to a person. It's so strange. Instead of a pervading sense of guilt or a Bad-Bad-Ra complex, I feel extremely happy and free. You know, like I could sit outside and paint flowers and hands even when it's raining (as it always is in Seattle.) Like Novabean said, she jumps too soon, and I wait for the damn train to run me over.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 4:06 PM
Friday, January 19, 2001What a day, what a day. I don't know where I begin or end...finally finished titling all of my photography contest prints. I wanted to be creative and superinnovate with the names, but I have to remember who's judging the stupid thing, blah blah. Don't let the man get you down. I settled on: "The Slow Decline", "Window Symphony", "Red Fades Before Blue", "Eventually", and "Portabello." I really wanted to go for names of the ironic and pretentious sort, like "My Inner Suffering," or, my personal favorite, "My Soul Screams in Agony." Kind of horrifying and comic noir, but maybe it's just me with a sick sense of humor. It wouldn't be the first or last time, people. Unfortunately, I can't imagine the judges being very appreciative of that degenerative sort of humor, but I refused to lay down and name it something like, "Love's Sweet Song," or "Raindrops on a Flower." I mean, if the title's wrong, the whole tham ding just feels wrong.
The days go by like flies stuck on sticky paper. Eventually one or two of them get away and rip themselves off, but they usually leave a limb or two behind. I feel like the doomed fly; legless, armless, and flopping around while God sits and contemplates his flyswatter. (God being a loose term, mainly one of malice and ill-intent in this scenario.) I dislike the people around me and I can't stand my friends. This is a horrible, horrible feeling. What does it mean to be understood? Maybe that's why people flock to religion. "God will understand." Love is a lie which keeps the population down? A thing too horrible to even contemplate.
Tonight I'm going to go hang out at Fern's house. Apparently, they sometimes "dance" there. This hushed, semi-secretive tone that they employ when speaking of it intrigued me. Kedree eyed me and said, "You should come." I'm under the impression they're going to try and do all the fancy raver hand tricks and what not, but I'm not sure if I should dress for a ritualistic killing of sorts. I just like getting down. I never pretended that I knew how to dance per say, but goddamn if I don't love it.
posted by
Anemone Ra at 2:47 PM
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