Inner Musings

Saturday, August 04, 2001

In the night time, you and I will simply disappear

I've met a boy.

He's nineteen, hails from UCLA (recently, too), and is also a fellow writer. He's one of very few intellectual peers I can claim, and probably the best conversation I've had in a long time. And he likes me. A lot. Said I'm the only person in Washington who's "intrigued" him. The name's Jerrick. He's pretty cool to hang out with. I actually met him at a bonfire down at a beach a short drive from my house, a place where people go to have bonfires and kids go to get drunk and/or stoned. Which was what the majority of his friends were doing. We started talking about literature and things of that ilk, and just hit it off. But last night, after we went to some kid's house in Kent, we decided to leave and just go kick it somewhere. So we went down to the marina, where we sat and talked until five in the morning. It was just cool. We argued existentially while spitting off the railing, and giggled about various things as we contemplated the fate of mankind/the cosmos.

Something you put in your breakfast cereal, I suppose. I don't know how I feel about him on a deep romantic sort of level, but initially, I'm attracted to him. Also, I make him nervous, at least in a romantic fashion, which is interesting. He put his arm around me, under the pretense of "sharing body heat" which made me smile. Curator of the world's most interesting hobby: Astrophysics. Dear God.

Anyways, I found this in my purse. It was something I wrote during the church sermon a while back.

Again, I'm sitting in service, looking at Jordan, who is sitting with his grandpa and the rest of his family, looking how I feel: tired, bored, and entirely misunderstood. Of course, he's not paying any attention to me, wh ich is typical, because he's a smarmy bastard like the rest of them, and should be drug out back and shot. Of course, in a certain light, I could be just as guilty of this certain brand of ignorance as he is...I haven't exactly been chasing him down. But I guess it's just the old-fashioned school marm in me that weepingly has decided that the boys should call the girls, and anything else is sexual blasphemy.

His grandpa is gazing at me, perplexed. I do have on bangle gold hoops and blood red lipstick, but aside from that, I'm wearing baggy pants and a long-sleeve shirt. It's probably the lipstick. Jordan is examining his wrist and yawing. This is the way things invariably happen; Jordan sitting across the sanctuary from myself, who is grumpy and similarly ecstatic at the advent of his appearence. The pastor is now encorporating the scores of recent Mariners' games into his morning announcements, making the whole ridiculous ruse appear to be some sort of sipiritual conflict. But enough about God and hypocrisy. Back to more important things, like my wounded feelings in relation to the actions of the opposite sex, the main purveyor of whom is sitting across the room from me, looking (as usual) cheesy and frumpily adorable, in his unbuttoned-and-rolled-up button-down white shirt in some unfortunately endearing attempt to emulate his icon idol, Tom Cruise.

He's drinking a lot of bottled water, which means that he stayed out late last night*, and some poisonous remnants of beer/alcohol have yet to leave his system. It's sick and sad that I've been able to deduce this from his actions, because it means that I still know all his mundane details. And that means that I'm not yet over him.

*Later, affirmed. Jordan had actually gotten home from his late night activities right when the family was leaving for church.

Adieu.

P.S. Eli bought me flowers a little while ago, under the pretense of "saying sorry" for slightly offending me. Also, last night, when I told him that I was going to hang out with Jerrick, he started acting weird. He gets kind of loud, and vaguely rude. What the hell? I don't know.

It's only an overture

Anemone Ra 12:16 PM

Monday, July 30, 2001

I am looking for the holes/ the holes in your jeans

Yeah, I didn't get with Wesley last night, primarily because, at ten thirty, he was still hung over as fuck. Not really an appealing quality, nor one that will turn you into a suave mannish Don Juan of the night, either. The people I work with are extremely cool, like Kerim, who's from Bosnia, and Aurora, who's six months pregnant. Very amusing...Kerim and I discussed the existential state of the union and youth, while Aurora and I gossiped about, well, everything. Everything there is to gossip about over the course of eight hours while slinging caffe latte's for irate sleep-deprived aero-travelnauts. Grumpy fliers, that is. One woman got real bitchy with me, but I took a deep breath, said to myself, Serendipity, simultaneously glared and smirked at her, and tried to control myself to the point where I wasn't flinging anything hot and liquidy into her lap. I felt like saying, You know what, bitch? It's not my fault you have a something shoved up your ass. Would you like some pastry tongs? Perhaps you could remove whatever is up there. But that's bad for business, so I didn't.

Things with me and Eli are very strange. He'll touch me sometimes, like drape an arm over me, tickle me, etc. I think he likes me, but is too afraid to go for the Big Smooch. And who wouldn't be? I'm certifiably insane. As far as he's concerned, I could start weeping melodramatically, or cut his nuts off with a butter knife. I wouldn't do either; I'd probably just sit there, shocked and sexually frustrated.

And I want to get some ass from Wesley. I'm supposed to call him in a couple of hours, and maybe his overly alcoholed ass (get it!?) will want to do something. I'm not too talented when it comes to dragging petulant corpses out of bed, but oh well.

Look out, world.

Because I want to know...are they worn out in the seat? are they worn out in the knees?

Anemone Ra 11:51 AM

Sunday, July 29, 2001

in the midnight hour...

I have had the craziest time ever. Seriously. I've worked 6am to 2pm for the past five days, and in about an hour or so, I'm going to go and work from 2:30 pm to 9:30 pm. How fucking crazy is that. Well, not really, but standing for eight hours inside of a tiny cubicle gets painful quick...my feet have reached new heights of agonizing discomfort. Also, i ran into Wesley today at church. Things are well between me and him, that rat bastard. I'm still sprung off of him like a crazed Michael Jackson fan...there really is no appeal, but somehow, it's there. The paradox of emotions. Yuuuuck.

He looks very cheesy, frumpy, and endearing. He's also a bonafide badass; he actually came to church as an extension of his late-night last night...he got home at 9:40 in the morning...just in time to leave again. Eli likes me a lot, I think, and I don't know how to handle it. Plus, I haven't gotten some action in a long time. It's much needed.

with a rebel yell..

Anemone Ra 1:31 PM