Temps

Frequency - unouomedude

I was lost & confused so I thought about organizing my life on paper. I thought if I could nail some corner of it down, get a toe-hold on a part of it, just get my head above water; it’d help. I wanted it on paper.

I thought about formatting my social circles to a flight map that shows where each airline is based in & flies to & from.

I ended up getting frozen yogurt with Kaley. She’s my Elaine. When I met up with her, I saw she had brought Will; the Joey to her Rachel. I wasn’t sure who he was to me. I only kinda knew him. Kaley thought we’d be good friends so she decided to force it. Sometimes I was scared I was Ross not Jerry to her.

I had fruity pebbles, cookie dough, & gummi worms in my frozen yogurt. Will had Oreos & caramel. Kaley had strawberries & three orange Tic-Tacs Will snuck into her cup when she went to the bathroom. We laughed. I laughed. I thought about making Will my Joey & being Chandler. Or maybe Kelso to my Eric.

Kaley bit into the first Tic-Tac, startled. She spit the second into Will’s cup. The third she sucked down till it was white; then till it was no longer a solid. It was fun. We had fun.

As we were leaving, we ran into Tara. Tara was my LC. I was Stephen. I usually felt guilty when I saw her. We had some awesome times together. The last time we spoke was bad. We were pleasant. She was nice. She looked nice. It made me want to call her again. I posted on her wall about it being good to see her. I also included an old inside joke about dieting. We’ll see.

Tara is Karen to Kaley’s Pam. They were pleasant. Each was nice. Tara met Will. I wonder if she thought of him as a possible Barney. I hoped not.

I climbed into the backseat of Kaley’s Cherokee. We drove around dancing in the car. We were just kidding around. It was fun at the time. Maybe you had to be there though.



I thought about using the template of a TV schedule & tracking myself via channels of id, ego, & superego.

In the late morning I went to the gym with Maren. We’d been hanging out a good amount lately. I could see us dating as some point. It mostly depended on how well we texted.

I didn’t worry about us working or lasting. She was my Izzie.

Every once in a while I would look at her & smile. She would smile back, then look down bashfully, then look at me again; smile. It was fun. We enjoyed it. She used the stairs, treadmill, & elliptical.

After, we ate sandwiches at the place in the gym. We saw Choi. He had been swimming laps. He was from China. He came to America to study. I liked Choi. He joined us. Choi was our Fez.

We stayed awhile talking, then left. Maren & I made plans to ride bikes Thursday. Bikes.

I showered & met Sierra at the mall. I was the Will to her Grace. Or maybe I was her Jack. I don’t know. I’ve only seen ads for it.

It was just because I was the only guy she knew who liked to shop. I was also the only person in the world she liked to shop with.

She invited me to a party at her house that night. I already had plans with Ethan & Desean. I told her I might drop by. I told her we might drop by.

Ethan, Desean, & I went to Sonic. We play this game where we randomly pick drink & syrup combos to try. Ethan was my George. Desean was our Turk. Neither of us was really JD to him though. I guess if I’m honest, he’s more my Charlie Young.

We left & drove towards downtown. When we only had ice left in our cups, we threw them.

I threw mine at a yield sign. Ethan threw his at the trailer of a semi. Desean threw his up at a stoplight. We all missed though. We all laughed though.

We met up with Seimonne & some of her friends. Desean & Seimonne had a Theo-Justine thing. We ate dinner at this place called Salt. Our waitress wasn’t hot. I’m always kinda disappointed if the waitress isn’t attractive.

I flirted with a Keisha. I hoped she might be an Uhura to me. George flirted with a Noelle. I think he saw her as an Angela to his Sean. Maybe.

We were enjoying ourselves so we all decided to go chill in the restaurant bar for a bit. I got this weird white chocolate cake for dessert. I kept talking to Keisha. She was very attractive. She prefaced many of her phrases by saying real talk. I texted Kaley & Maren. The rest of the night pretty much passed in the same manner.


Everyone Gets A Star - Albert Hammond, Jr.

When I woke up I thought about mapping my wants, needs, & priorities to a Monopoly board. Instead I closed my eyes. An hour & a half later I thought the same thing. Only clearer. Then I thought about making a periodic table of my emotions.

Rather than that, I met up with Elise for lunch. We were like Rory & Jess. It was annoying I know. It made me feel uncomfortable.

Clippings stuck in your collar after a haircut. The time I was in a suit at my sister’s outdoor graduation. A sweater that’s scratchy like voices on a walkie-talkie. Clothes I want off.

I kinda had to see her because she was only in town for a couple days. I had to I guess.

I got Kaley & Ethan to come. She brought her boyfriend. I saw them as Hilary-Trevor. It was awkward. It went as well as it probably could have possibly gone. We told stories from middle school dances. We took a group picture. Elise had her hand on her hip.

Later that afternoon I saw she tweeted about having lunched with me. Lunched.

I was at the park when I saw that. Ethan, Kaley, & I went there. Kaley called Will to come. She made me talk because she thought it’d be fun. I talked because I’d pretty much do anything a girl told me to. It was fun though.

Will showed up with a remote controlled car. We took it all over the park. Down the slides & such too. It ended up breaking. That car kinda made my day.

We take ourselves way too seriously. For real.

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Spun the Bottle

Walking on a Dream – Empire of the Sun

Tucked discreetly behind Wallace’s Auto Parts like cigarettes holed up in a middle schooler’s coat was The Factory. An establishment of such regal bearing could only mean something to youths. And it did, as a hub of what places geared towards 18-24 demographics should supposedly be centers of. In a college-town with a sub 50,000 population, that had no suburban loyalty to any metropolitan area, The Factory pretty much had a monopoly on all such spokes and hubs; which mostly meant live music (since that’s always a good place to start with young folks). It was (pretty) popular. It was (kinda) the place to be. It was successful without being a success. Plus, it was quote unquote student-owned so obviously awesome things happened therein. I didn’t mind The Factory. I didn’t like The Factory. At best I found it to be mildly stimulating and at worst it was vaguely embarrassing. Anyways, all of that is to say…

“Hey. Do you want to go to the Battle of the Bands tonight at The Factory?” Luke asked me. We were in his dorm room. I had planned to sleep that afternoon into evening, but had somehow ended up there for a couple hours.

“The Factory’s gay,” I said because as a heterosexual young man everything’s obviously gay. I always felt like an idiot saying the name of the place.

“You go there more than anyone else I know.” He was right. I did. Not cause I liked it. I felt I had to for some reason.

“Good point.”

“So is that a yes or no?”

“That’s a we’re in college, so we don’t have to plan hours in advance.” The concert actually started in like fifteen minutes. I can be such a jerk sometimes.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, we’re college kids. We’re supposed to be crazy and spontaneous,” I announced. “Actually why don’t we go spray paint “Ram Pride” on Dr. Tock’s house. That could be fun.”

“No. Don’t be stupid.” He hates it when I get like this.

“Welp, I’m done talking for the evening.”

There was a tennis ball on the floor by Luke’s feet. I asked him to toss it to me and he did. This would prove to be a bad move on his part.

I decided I should throw the ball at Luke’s head on the other side of the room and see how hard and close I could throw it without hitting his head. I was curious to see when this experiment would reach its asymptote…

Forty or so minutes later we were being driven to the aforementioned concert venue by our idiot friend Drew. Don’t worry; I’d call him an idiot to his face too. I wouldn’t feel bad about it either. As long as you’re willing to say something to someone’s face and they’re willing to still talk to you after, then I don’t consider something rude, inappropriate, offensive, et cetera. That’s just my thinking though.

So like I was saying, Drew was kinda an idiot. He’d seriously do whatever you asked him to. He wouldn’t do it because he wanted you to like him or anything like that. He was just too stupid to think of any of the many reasons why he shouldn’t do whatever you wanted of him.

After I had hit Luke four times with the tennis ball, wrestled it back three times, and apologized twice, we decided to go to The Factory. We then decided to find someone to take us because neither of us felt like driving. I was pretty sure that someone would end up being Drew, or someone who acted exactly like Drew, or who looked like they’d be named Drew.

Under the pretense of a question mark, I commanded him to take us.



The building the Factory was housed in took the word ordinary to a new average, the word nondescript to a new blend, the word boring to a new lull. And as if it mattered, the place was painted white. The students who were pseudo owners of The Factory were probably still weeks away from realizing how cool it’d be to ask some art major to design a sign to hang on the outside; months away from realizing the awesome irony in leaving the rainbow Christmas lights up year round. It was probably better left unadorned anyways.

As Drew’s truck churned over the gravel expanse leading up to the factory that served as both road and parking lot, it suddenly seemed like a great idea to act like we were pulling up to some hot spot in some big city where people with cameras cared about people who got out of cars.

“Hey Jew, stop up front and let us out,” I said to Drew, unnecessarily slapping the side of his head to make sure he knew who I was referring to when I said “Jew.” I was excited to watch Drew, who had assumed that he was going to enter the establishment with us and proceed to stay within five feet of Luke and me for the remainder of the night, try and locate us in the crowd. The smoke and flashing lights were going to make his mad dash to find us priceless.

There was an open glass door among some fogged up glass windows that covered the only outer wall that anyone ever looked at. Around the outside, scattered pods of people were talking. I rolled down the window just enough for my forearm to fit through and began waving a little. I “asked” Drew to honk a few times too.

Luke rolled his eyes when I inquired about his willingness to get out first to open my door for me. He did it though. I knew he would.

When I got out, I stared at and specifically waved, and I think even pointed, at a couple groups of very confused people. I knew I didn’t know them, but I can guarantee you they spent part of the night trying to figure out who I was and how I knew them. I hope at least one of them lost sleep over it. That might seem stupid, but it made it totally worth it to me.
Here Comes Tomorrow - Niteflights

As I was walking I saw a cluster of girls that I did in fact know 33% of. They were really popular and attractive so naturally I headed over to them.

“Hey there!” I said gaily.

“Hey!” I swear she had never been so happy to see me; the music probably worked her up. The she/her was Jenni Metcalf, resident close-to-perfect girl on campus. She broke away from the other girls and met me as I walked.

I knew her through her boyfriend, Cale Stanley, who was a friend of a friend and was now more or less my friend. He was the best white guy on the football team, and thus the most popular player on the football team. The two of them were, of course, a big deal. Little did everyone know, but once he stopped catching pieces of air trapped in cowhide, she’d finally see the creepy way he smelled his fingers when he was deep in thought and once she dropped down from an anti-bacterial hotness rating of 9.999 to a nice round 9, he’d discover all the weird insecurities her mom planted in her when she made little 5th-grade Jenni put on make-up a year before the rest of her friends. They really were a great couple though. And since when does the football player get the hot girlfriend? But seriously I was so happy to know cliché movie-type stuff like that actually happened.

She wrapped me up for a hug, not a big deal. Jenni Metcalf just gave me a hug, but whatev.

“Are you guys just getting here?” and by ‘you guys’ I mean you Jenni Metcalf, and only you. As if there could ever be anyone else.

“No, we’re actually just heading out.” That’s about right.

“Oh I see, so you came and then you saw me show up and suddenly decided to leave,” I joked.

“Oh that’s not what I happened,” she playfully slapped me in the arm. Jenni Metcalf just playfully slapped me in the arm, but whatev, no biggie.

“It’s fine, I totally understand.” She laughed, so I kept going. “I know how it is; big campus celebrity Jenni Metcalf is too cool for the skinny freshman. I get it.”

She laughed some more, and then stated,“No, but seriously it’s way hot in there.” She nodded towards the building without moving her head. I looked up at it. It was like a huge hyperventilating chest with its windows slightly bulging and pumping to the beat. It suddenly looked kinda ominous. Yikes. It was weirding me out right then. Strange. Anyways, those girls were the types to go somewhere for like 15 minutes, get bored or hot or something, and then jet.

“Are you just saying that cause you were in there? So campus it-girl Jenni Metcalf shows up and the temperature magically rises a couple degrees. That’s pretty self involved.” Another round of non-annoying, melodic laughter ensued, broken up by a couple of her out-of-breath mock denials. Then the other 16.7% I knew came over from that group.

“Oh you!” said Cari as she joined us like she knew exactly what we were talking about and that I was of course up to my old antics.

“Yo Cari!” I called back in a voice that I assumed was how high schoolers in Grease-era America greeted each other.

I think I had hung out with her like three times, but her brother was rushing with me; so Cari and I were, of course, extremely close.

“What are you up to?” She asked. Seriously? Are you really asking me that? I’ll give you three guesses. Hint: look at the building I’m standing in front of.

“Umm, I thought I’d just come here and see if anyone interesting was standing outside.”

That got a laugh. If people thought my sarcasm was mean-spirited I don’t think I could ever say anything again. But they would’ve laughed at anything. They had that natural Friday night buzz.

“You guys should probably get going before the paparazzi figure out that you’ve left the concert.” Girls like that are always impressed if you’re the one who initiates the break in the conversation. Their other girlfriends were getting antsy anyways.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jenni replied; smiling I might add.

“Alright, see yas,” Cari said between sputtering laughs.

“Yeah, see ya,” Jenni understated with that split second linger before she turned to leave. I could’ve been imagining it, but I’m arrogant enough to think that she did. I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually had because I was not trying to pull anything. I was just conversing with her. Jenni had been hit on and/or stuttered at for so long, I knew she just liked to talk to me. I wasn’t hitting on her, I was just being nice. It’s the truth.

Nothing's Wrong - Cloud Nothings

I forgot about Luke. He wasn’t with me and I couldn’t see where he was. As I turned away from the girls I felt the sudden urge to talk to someone, and I slapped the back of a nearby Cade Mutton and asked,

“Hey how much is it to get in?” I really didn’t care what the answer was, and thus didn’t listen to his reply. Plus he’s one of the biggest faggots on campus. We’ve never met, but we knew who each other was cause his girlfriend aided in a class of mine. We’d shared a couple awkward ‘aren’t you going to introduce us moments’ before, so I figured what the heck?

“Alright thanks bud,” I gave his back another slap. Oh, and he was pear shaped. Just so you know. Like really pear-shaped. I can only imagine what his pant buying experience was like. From the waist down he looked like a 45 year-old mother of 6.

I glanced around and saw Luke talking with some guy who probably went on to nothing and whose high point in life was that conversation he had with Luke Metz on the night of Battle of the Bands, you remember that one? Drew was with Luke. My night was ruined.

We spent like five minutes arguing with the girl in the box office. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her I was covering the event for the school paper. Even if you don’t believe it, you still let me in for free because I made your night slightly less boring. I started to haggle with her a bit after that. I told her my roommate worked for the university parking patrol and that I’d get her next parking ticket torn up. She didn’t buy it so I had to buy a ticket.

$7 to breathe sweaty air and hear demo-quality live music seems a bit pricey to me, but in all honesty I was glad to be there. If you were from like Boulder or Austin, you’d probably kinda snicker at this place; think of it as a tad humiliating. Laughable, that’s the word.

You’d say that you hung out in cooler places and heard better music in high school. You may even be right. Sometimes I thought I liked it more because it was kinda lame. It annoyed me, but I wondered if it wouldn’t annoy me more if it were actually the authentically hip place frequented by authentically hip patrons that it was trying so hard to be.

When we first got in, the noise and staccato lights made it hard to place yourself or others. Once my eyes got semi-used to it I looked for a spot for us to stand. I grabbed Drew and shouted in his ear. “I need you to be the fullback. Get us up there.” I pointed towards the front row. Drew scratched his bearded check and gave me a thumbs up.

Luke and I followed in Drew’s wake as his stocky body pushed through the crowd. It was pretty easy to get to the front row. When people have no real loyalty for a band they’re much more gracious about you taking their place.

The next song started and it was so boring that I spent most of it looking around for people I knew. I could only see like three people deep in any direction so I unsurprisingly didn’t find anyone and was forced to listen to the rest of it. The band was called “Lease to Own” if that tells you anything.

For the following number, the singer put down his guitar and picked up a tambourine. It was an upbeat little tune, and since I was in the front row, right against the stage, I extended my arm up towards him. He indulged me by using my hand to hit the tambourine a few times. That was fun.

Houdini – Foster the People

In fact, it was so much fun that I decided to have some more fun. I climbed on Drew’s shoulders, which he was totally up for, and watched the show from there. I see people at music festivals do it all the time and I’ve always thought it looked like fun; at least for the person on top. They’re usually girls though.

Drew rose up and I hung unto his head like the horn of a saddle. When he was fully standing, I saw that I was staring the lead singer right in the face. Like right in the face. It was kinda awkward at first so I decided to start bobbing my head rooster-like to try and break the ice. He looked pretty confused and tried to peer around me, but every way he looked I leaned with and broke into his eye line again; just for kicks. This continued for a bit until I started miming like I was playing defense on him in a basketball game. He kept trying to get around me, but I continued playing very fundamental defense and prevented it.

Finally, he got pretty mad and just shoved me. Those guys in bands always decide to get tough on stage; or really pretty much anywhere where they’re not going to actually have to confront someone face to face. For real. Those guys get a microphone and a couple hundred people with nothing better to do in front of them, or just a cigarette in their mouth, and they suddenly get that confidence they never had while they were off listening to pop-punk and playing WOW alone in their rooms in high school. Fags.

I was too surprised to be scared as I fell back into the crowd. It ended up working out nicely because everyone caught me and just started crowd-surfing me. Unfortunately, I ended being dropped off stage left way in the back.

I now had a personal vendetta against Mr. Lease to Own. If he wouldn’t have annoyed me so much, I probably would’ve just left; or at least politely watched the remainder of the show. I couldn’t let him shoving me go, especially since I had single-handedly made their set like 10 times more exciting.

I texted Drew to come meet me in the back corner. He came and I immediately asked him to fullback me to the front again.

Once we got back up with Luke, I began yelling up to the singer. I kept asking if he remembered me. I told him to take his emo crap back to 2005 where it belonged. I asked him if I could get financing to lease to own one of their albums. Then I started yelling out random numbers to try and distract him. It works when someone’s counting so I figured it was worth a shot. Next, I began trying to guess his lyrics before he sang them. Most of what I yelled up to him ended up being about a homosexual lead singer or crying alone in your room. All the acknowledgment I got from that was a few angry glances. This did not sate me so I reached unto the stage and starting untying his shoes. He started kicking at me, but only a little so he failed to foil my efforts. I waited for the next song to start and then began tying his shoe laces together. He kicked even more, but didn’t stop playing so it was pretty easy to accomplish. That guy was such a seasoned performer nothing would’ve stopped him. He was so focused, so into his music, so passionate; such a true artist.

After that, I just turned around and faced the audience. I lounged against the stage and started playing around with my phone. As I was doing that I got a text. It was from Cari.

hey. we r havin a little house-warming party at our new place. you should come :)

Needless to say, we split quick. I basically dragged Luke and Drew out of there before explaining. I even forgot about my feud with Lease to Own Guy. He was such a queer.

On the way over to the girls’ place we made fun of that band the whole time. They were the lamest. Usually my time at The Factory passes much more civilly. Usually.

The girls’ house was on a corner. There wasn’t much to distinguish it besides that.

Psychic City (Voodoo City) – YACHT

As we walked up to the door I suddenly panicked because I didn’t know whether I should knock or just walk in. It seemed like a really important decision. It really worried me. I knocked.

The door was opened by a way pretty girl with dark hair. I hadn’t ever seen her before. She smiled and said, “Hey!”

“Do Jenni and Cari live here?” I asked.

“Oh yeah yeah.”

I laughed pleasantly, though insincerely, but not impolitely and said, “K, just checking. I didn’t want to be barging in on some random place.”

“Nope. You’ve come to the right spot.” She was really something.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. What’s your name?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s Rachel. Wait. You were talking to Cari and Jenni tonight outside the Battle of the Bands, right?”

“Yup, that was me. Good memory. Oh, and this little dynamic duo behind me is Luke and Drew.” I didn’t let them talk.

“Well, it’s nice to meet y’all!”

“So Rachel. Tell me. Are you getting the vibe that we’re totally going to be like BFF now? Cause I definitely am.”

“Oh yeah! Totally! I’m so glad you picked up on that too. I thought it was just me.”

“No no, I felt it. So like what’re you thinking? I mean, The Bachelor every week obviously, but how about we get in a Spin class together too.”

“Oh, for sure. And also: mani’s, pedi’s, tanning; the works.”

“Fantastic. This is going good places.”

“How is ever going to go good places if you never actually come inside?”

“Yeah, seriously. Why are you keeping us out in the cold? What kind of hostess are you?”

“Get in here then!”

She led us inside and I looked around. It looked like the party had been going on for a bit. We were in a big open room with fluffy looking red furniture. A pretty good amount of people too.

“Oh! You guys have to come here first,” Rachel said.

I noticed she walked with a weird hitch, limp thing. Her right leg didn’t seem to be bending all that much. She was very attractive though. The more you looked at her face, the more beautiful it became. And somehow the limp made her more attractive too. I don’t know.

She took us to a small dining room off the kitchen. One of the walls was completely covered with signatures.

“You guys have to sign the wall.”

“Wow. I’m honored,” I said.

“This isn’t just from tonight?” Drew asked.

“Oh no no,” Rachel answered.

Drew laughed hard. “K, I was wondering.”

“Yeah, Whitney’s brother and his friends lived her before us and started it. So this is like two year’s worth of visitors.”

“Whitney…Foster?” I asked.

“Yup. She’s lives here too.”

“Oh, cool cool. You guys have quite the crew living here.”

“I know! I’m so excited.”

She took us to the kitchen after we had each endorsed the place. They had made a bunch of desserts and stuff. Cari walked in.

“Hey there!” she said. She was very excited. I don’t think there was ever a point in her life where she wasn’t some form of excited.

“Cari! What’s going on?”

Rachel went back to the main room and so we just hung in the kitchen for a few with Cari. Cari already knew Luke through her little brother, but met Drew for the first time. We left when Cari told us about some YouTube video we had to see.

Us guys went with Cari to her and Whitney’s room. They had about a million candles burning in that house. Their room was no different. It smelled good, but almost too good.

On the walls were a bunch of pictures with the girls all over the place: a street in New York, inside the Coliseum, Eiffel Tower, on Santa Monica Beach, in a field somewhere. I started thinking about what they hated about each other; what their pet peeves were and what annoyed them with one another.

Cari was still going on and on about the video. The more she talked, the more I lowered my expectations. Her laptop was on a white desk right next to her bed. She sat on the chair that paired with the desk. Drew and Luke sat and slightly bounced on her bed. I stood behind her. Once the video came up she of course started it too early and so we had to take like three buffering breaks for a three minute video.

We finally just restarted it from the beginning. Some adolescent girl was lip-synching to some song I'd never heard before. When she kept doing the same dance move over and over again to start the video, I started laughing despite myself. I only laughed when she struck up that first dance move again; which the girl did for each chorus. Cari was doing all the dance moves too as she laughed her head off. I looked and saw that Drew was too.

“Yeah Drew!” Cari egged him on.

One thing lead to another and we ended up watching every video that girl ever made. They got progressively less funny to everyone except Cari. Even Drew was getting bored with them. I started doing my own thing and examining the room. I read all the quotes she had written on a mirror with dry erase markers. I didn't like any of them.

Then my attention went back to the pics of Cari and her housemates. The pictures were in frames that said things like best friends and memories. Even if I felt secure enough in my sexuality to put up pictures like that, I don't know who I'd put in there with me. I have lots of friends, but there's something almost matrimonial about the way these girls were best friends. There's this weird absolute confidence about all of them. People make girls out to be pretty catty, but from what I've seen there's just a few insane drama queens mixed in with girls who have these friends they’re like glue with. I still can’t imagine what random petty things they probably found annoying about one another. But there had to be some, right?

I don't really know how to explain it. I just know I don't have it. These girls can do anything with each other and love it. They can watch YouTube videos and copy the dances and have the time of their lives with it. They can go to a restaurant and take a million group pictures by a fountain afterwards and think it’s the tops. I don't get that. I don't understand how that works. Like with my friends, I don't really know if I have best ones. I could probably come up with them if I thought about it, but I don’t want to. I don't think there's one of them with whom I'd actually care to share things I really think about. Sharing that type of stuff sounds exhausting. And if any of them ever wanted to dance along with a video, I'd just start insulting them. It seems like it'd be nice sometimes, but even after I think about it, I'm not sure I want that.

I saw a Cosmo magazine lying close by and started peeking through there as Luke, Drew, and Cari took turns showing each other funny videos. I thought about leaving and going to see what else was going on. It seemed rude, so I couldn't bring myself to do it. Something had to be done though.

"Hey," I said. "I'm reading about the most incredible thing. You guys have to check this out."

"What is it?" said Cari.

"Apparently they've developed a way to spoon without cutting off circulation in any of your extremities. Huh huh? How about that?"

"Really?" she sounded genuinely intrigued.

"Oh yeah. My life will never be the same."

Cari made a weird little squealing noise. My friends just sat there and stared.

"Luke and Drew don't seem to be as excited about this as us, Cari." Luke just shook his head at me after I said that.

"I know! Come on guys this is a big deal!"

"Maybe if they demonstrated to us this ground-breaking technique they would come to appreciate it."

"I think that's a marvelous idea!" She made that squealing noise again and laughed.

"Uh..." Drew said.

"That's not happening," Luke added.

"Are you serious? Not even for Cari? That's so rude guys. I'm disappointed in both of you. Go wait outside in the car."

"I don't care what you say, that's not going to happen."

"Well then, would Miss Cari indulge me by partnering with yours truly in a demonstration?"

"I would love to." She climbed off of the bed where she had ended up and joined me on the floor. I winked my right eye at the guys and Luke rolled both of his at me. Cari wasn't as much of a knockout as her housemates, but she was still pretty good looking. She was a little bigger, but not fat or anything. She probably would be someday though.

Rubbish Zoo - More Ink Than An Octopus

She laid out and I moved in right next to her and in between glances at the magazine I grabbed her arms and rotated her torso till she was in place and then I pressed myself right up against her; definitely closer than what was necessary.

"You guys see how magical this is now? I bet you're both regretting not trying it out. There's some floor space over there if you still want to give it a whirl."

"We're good," Luke answered.

"How's that feel Cari?"

"This is real real nice. How does it feel for you?"

"I wish I could stay here forever. Are all your limbs still awake? Blood still going round-trip?"

"Oh yeah. This is fantastic. Blood still circulating for you?"

I looked straight at Luke and said, "Oh. It's flowing."

He started shaking his head and laughing, "Oh my word." Luke was always saying geriatric phrases like that. I half closed my eyes and opened my mouth like I was in ecstasy. Then I started flicking my tongue like I was going to lick her. They both laughed and Luke covered his face. Cari hadn't picked up on what I had said and couldn't see me so she sincerely asked Luke, "What?"

Before Luke could answer, I chimed in, "Hey, so tell me about Rachel. I've never met her before."

"Whoa! Does someone have a crush on Rachel? Hmm?"

"Who said anything about crushes? That was an innocent question inquiring about my new friend Rachel."

"You know asking about a girl when you're currently spooning with another is bad form. I'm a little hurt...and jealous."

"I'll make it up to you. I promise." I gave her hip a little squeeze after I said that. It was a goofy thing to do, but still fun. I wondered what she was thinking when I did that. I kinda regretted it ten seconds after I did it.

"Well it's not like I blame you. She is so beautiful. So so beautiful. She actually used to be a model."

"Used to be? She's still hot," said Drew with his most intelligent comment of the night.

"Well she did a ton of the whole runway thing. You know because she's real tall and skinny so she's like perfect for it. And also, when I say modeling I mean like real stuff, not like local department store stuff. Like big stuff. Anyways, she got in a car accident like two years ago and it was very serious. She recovered and everything, but her hip got real messed up. You probably noticed she walks with a limp. So obviously she can't do runway stuff. She did some print stuff after, but she's gotten kinda whatever with it all. It's a little bit of a sensitive subject actually. She really doesn't like people knowing."

"Wow," is all I could think to say.

"So why doesn't she want people to know?" Luke asked.

"I'm not sure. I know if I were a model at all I'd want everyone to know," she said and laughed.

"And what is going on in here? Am I interrupting?" It was Jenni. She was standing in the doorway; like an angel I might add.

"Hey Jenni!" I said brightly as I looked at her upside down figure.

"Hi Jenni, I'm Drew," said Drew, slightly out of nowhere.

"It's nice to meet you Drew."

"And I'm Luke."

"Nice to meet you too! I’m glad you guys could make it! But seriously, what are you two doing down there? It looks a little sketch."

"Just taking part in the spooning revolution,” I replied.

"Huh?"

"There was this thing in Cosmo about spooning without making your arms or anything fall asleep,” Cari explained.

"Oh. How about that? Well...when do I get a turn? Cari would you mind terribly if I slid in and tried it out?"

"Sure thing!"

It sounds stupid, but I pretty much froze. I couldn't think of one thing to say. It was a pretty awkward situation if you think about it. And not awkward in the way that everyone uses the word all the time nowadays. It was awkward in the most literal sense of the world. I was still loving it though. I won’t lie.

"Is that ok with you?" she asked me.

"Uh...yeah, sure," I was trying to play it cool. I felt pretty awkward still, but she looked movie star graceful even just sitting down on the floor, which distracted me; which was nice. I tried to be a little jocular, "I have to warn you though, it may be so comfortable that you might never want to move again."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll take my chances."

"Here. Come a little closer. And now, just put your arm right…here...yup. 'K, now I'm coming in."

All I could think about was not smelling her hair or perfume or body spray or lotion or nectar of heaven or anything other scented thing that she might use to make her perfect self even more perfect. I felt like if I did, it'd be creepy then. If I did that, then it'd stop being something fun; like something kinda goofy and innocent and that it'd become just all weird and ordinary.

"Why didn't you wave at me earlier?" I asked from behind her.

"Huh?"

"Earlier. When we first arrived, I waved at you."

"Wait. I don't remember that. Really?"

"Yeah. I started out with just a nice polite little wave. Then I got kinda obnoxious with it because I wasn't sure if you noticed and I still got nothing. It was pretty embarrassing."

"And I just ignored you? I promise it wasn't on purpose." She was still buying it.

"Well, it would've been one thing if you would've just ignored me, but then you totally flipped me off. In front of everyone and I was like whatever Jenni, I thought we were friends, but I guess I'm not cool enough."

She laughed and I could feel her laughing against me. I felt weird.

"You're ridiculous."

"What?" She didn't respond. She just laughed some more. "So what do you think?"

"Well my arms aren't falling asleep, but it's so comfy I think I might fall asleep. You?"

I just made snoring noises. She laughed again. I looked at Luke. He rolled his eyes once more at me. I annoy that guy so much, but I guarantee you he'd rather hang out with me rather than anyone else

"I could get used to this," Jenni said and before I could respond with something; presumably a marriage proposal, Whitney Foster popped her head in.

"I'm not even going to ask, but anyways...a bunch of people are about to leave and so I just seeing if you wanted to say bye."

"But I'm comfy," Jenni responded. She groaned a little, then set in motion the momentum required to get up. I was neither sad nor relieved. I may have imagined it, but I'm pretty sure Jenni pressed her body back into mine before she got up. I don't know.

Surfacing – Chapel Club

She was so beautiful though. She really was movie beautiful where you could blow up her face real huge and exhibit it for hours of public scrutiny and somehow you'd end up just marveling at the stars-aligning genetic combination it took to make that.

"Thanks. You were a fantastic big spoon," Jenni turned and said before she walked out.

"Yeah. You’re the best big spoon I ever had," Cari added laughing as she followed Jenni out. "It really was comfortable," I heard Cari say in the hallway.

When they had left I said, "Hmmm? Hmmm? How about that?"

"You're ridiculous," Luke said. I seriously think I get told that a hundred times a day.

"Why didn't you make out with them?" is what Drew had to offer.

"Why didn't you do something besides just sit there and bore everyone? Seriously, you guys have been mannequins. Drew your assignment for the rest of tonight is to say one interesting thing."

"Just because we haven't been hitting on everything that moves," Luke replied.

"Just because I actually know how to converse with the opposite sex. "

"We do too. We're just not obnoxious about it."

"Well all I know is that I got to spoon with Jenni Metcalf chumps. And yes, I'm definitely going to put that on my resume."

"Hey. Do you think they want us to go?" Drew said.

"That's a good question. Since it seems like everyone is leaving, maybe we should too."

Luke shrugged, so we just sat.

I saw Rachel walk by a few minutes later.

"Rachel!"

"Hey guys!" She seemed like such a nice person. Genuinely nice. Not annoying nice. You could just tell.

"So we've known each other for a while now." I paused for her to affirm.

"A very, very longtime."

"So I can ask you something and expect a completely unbiased and honest answer."

"Of course."

"Well...and remember you won't any feelings, except maybe Luke's, but do you guys want us to leave? Like not just us, but are you all trying to get people out of here?"

"Oh, no. You guys are good."

"You sure?"

"Totally. We were just trying to not make this turn into some raging party or anything."

"Oh well if this isn't going to be a kegger then we might as well split."

"You'd ditch your BFF like that?"

"Ok, you talked us into staying."

"Well we're honored to have you as long as you'll stay."

We then heard some non-crisis screams for Rachel. She excused herself and we were once again left alone. Minutes later, Cari came back to her room and said, "You guys want to play a game?"

"I've never met a game I didn't like," I said. I looked at Luke and Drew.

"I love games," Luke added.

"Sure," said Drew as he laughed for no apparent reason. "What game?" he asked also.

"You'll see," Cari answered. I remember being kinda weirded out by the way she said it. It didn't seem like her when she said it.

Walking out to their living room I recall passing some more candles. The flames peeled off scents which switched in quick succession from autumn leaves to the beach to cookies to clean linen. They smelled really synthetic against each other. The lights were off except for a few lamps and candles strewn about. Rachel and Jenni were sitting on the floor, giggling a little. They didn't seem like themselves either. I also remember realizing that I had no idea what time it was. No idea. For some reason that bothered me.

“Where’s Whitney?” I asked.

“She went out with Criag,” replied Jenni. Criag was Whitney’s boyfriend. Not that it matters.

The girls patted the ground and so I sat down first, to the right of Jenni and three hours from where Rachel sat at my midnight. Luke sat next to Rachel and Cari next to him and Drew next to her and also next to me.

Jenni pulled an empty bottle from behind her and said, "Spin the bottle much?" A mixture laugh/cheer/yell went up from everyone. I looked at Luke and he raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Great. I'll go first."

She glanced around, feigning nerves, then laughed. Jenni rotated her wrist and the bottle multiplied her movement. At first so fast it looked like a circle, then slower, then teetering, then casually winking and pointing its finger at me.

Everyone started laughing because I apparently was grinning really big. It didn’t feel like I was. At least to me. I leaned in towards Jenni, but before I dove, I pulled back and said, "But what about Cale?"

She looked me straight in the eyes and laughed. Grabbed her phone and thumbed something out. She showed it to me. It was a text to Cale. It said "we're over." She hit send. She laughed a little again, slanting in as she whispered, "We do it all the time." Then bringing her head away from my ear, she paused and I went in and sunk my lips into hers. And held 1...2...3... Then I pressed my lips together down on her bottom lip before releasing and then going in again. Then 1...2... And back out a little. Then I titled my head to the other side and dropped my lips back into hers. I slid my tongue out and as it went past her lips she parted her teeth and her tongue came against mine. I rode her movements and reached with my tongue behind hers like I was trying to pickpocket it or something. Then we moved away for good.

I didn't realize it when we were kissing but her hand was on my neck and as we moved away she squeezed it a little and I thought I was going to die. I took some deep breaths and stared right at her. She just smiled at me.

Everyone did that cheer/laugh/yell thing again. And with that we were off. It was Rachel and Luke, then Luke and Cari, then Cari and me, Drew and Luke (which didn't happen), then Drew and Rachel, me and Rachel, then Jenni and Cari (which did happen), and so on and so forth.

I don't know how long we played or what exactly went on or how many times I kissed someone, but at some point I forgot what I was doing. I didn't know if I talked or who I kissed, I don’t know if I laughed at obvious jokes or got self-conscious and put on some chapstick. I just know that thoughts weren't really loosed in my mind again till the night air whetted me as we stepped out of the house sometime later; laughing and waving goodbye to the girls who laughed and waved back.

Dream a Little Dream of Me – The Mama's and the Papa's

When the door closed, we all let out the quietest-loudest cheer you ever saw and grabbed each other embracing one another other and the moment and our luck. I hated it.

I hated them. All of them. Luke, Drew, Jenni, all of them. I wished it never would've happen. I wished it wouldn't take up space in my memory. I wished I could still think about those girls the same. I wished they never would've let losers like us touch them. I wished we never would've spooned. I wished we would've just spooned. I wished they would've still seemed so perfect.

We got into Drew's truck and after about 5 blocks and I don't know how many comments about how awesome that was, I had Drew let me out at a stop sign. I couldn't take it. For real. The way they were talking about it. The way they were smiling. The way they were happy. The worst. I didn’t want to feel like we were sharing this. I didn’t want this to be something we joked about over the phone ten years from now. I didn’t want this. I think they thought I was going to go back and try something with one of them. I don't know. I just knew I couldn't take it.

So I got out and walked and stared up at the stars because for whatever reason, they always look so perfect to us. I was so thankful no cars drove by. That there were no house lights on. That it was just me and no proof of people to force reconciliation with my imagination. That way I could just stare up at the sky. And I did. The stars really can do no wrong to us. If we can’t see them clearly, it’s the clouds’ fault or the city lights’ fault; never the stars’ though. They always seem so perfect to us. continue reading...

Reflex

Daydreaming – Dark Dark Dark

Cassandra stared in and through the multi-tasking window that was acting as both portal and mirror. Currently it was being utilized more for its light-refracting properties rather than its translucent abilities as the girl stared at her reflection. With the prompting of a head band, her hair framed her face and her eyes stayed the same while the majority of her skin acted as a chameleon upon the dusk tinted scenery of the 8 route that shone through her reflection as it flowed by the bus outside. From her many roundtrips on the 8 she had found that at this time of night, she was particularly fond of the wallpaper the bricks of the Immanuel church put on her face. She liked looking at herself in windows. She had always thought that she looked better in windows than in mirrors.

More than a hot bath, more than a massage, more than her friends, more than her favorite song, more than her favorite food, more than her family, more than eating her favorite food with her family, as of late what brought on the most relaxation for Cassandra was riding the bus. Her mind could rest its eyes, her heart could put its feet up, her spine could breathe in deep when she was on it. Somewhere on there she found the balance where she was neither weighed down nor held up. It calmed her to be among people because there were none of the options and anxieties that take the place of others when one is alone. It calmed her to be on her own around people she didn't know because she was free from the push-pull of expectation and experience that's a side effect of familiar company. Plus, there was movement. Movement she was not responsible or accountable for.

She partook in this bit of public transportation often. Sometimes she would bring a book or an iPod. Sometimes she would text. Sometimes she would stare out the window or even sleep. Many times, like tonight, she would just watch her reflection. She kept to herself on there. She made little eye contact with others and even less small talk. She did as she pleased on the bus and in turn being on it pleased her much.

That evening, as the bus caught its scheduled wind at a stop on Brighton, a youngish male walked on during the flux of people. He hung his weight on a strap and against a bar, standing near the front of the vehicle. Being the only other person under the age of 25 inside, Cassandra took notice of his presence; even more so because the presence was that of a male.

Via clandestine looks that swooped from this man and then back outside like a wave lapping up and then backpedaling from a beach; she continued to take notice. The more she looked, the more she felt an affinity for this stranger. The more she looked, the more she felt like her and this man were strangely connected.

She became sure they were linked in some cosmic way. With his cardigan under his coat, and the earbuds in his ears, and because of the bag on his hip, she was sure that they would get along; that if he would notice her and smile, and come talk to her, ask what she was reading, tell her what he was listening to, then take her to a coffeehouse, that they would end up staying there until the place closed, talking. And then they would exchange phone numbers and continue their conversation till 4am. That they would know what one another meant when they said things; that they wouldn't be explaining things, misunderstanding things, misinterpreting them, they'd just be talking.

And then, at Sheridan, he promptly exited the bus.




The annoyed resignation of realizing the corner procrastination has backed one into was the only thing on Connor's mind. He took an inventory of the charlatan excuses he had given himself, the priorities he hadn't properly budgeted, the impulsive logic he had signed off on. Now, with a probable all-nighter awaiting his company, Connor thought that there would not be a single minute within the next 8 hours that he would enjoy.

He thought about it some more and hoped that it'd only be 8 hours. In his bag was a duo of 5 hour energy's that Connor feared he would need every minute of.

His was the Sheridan stop, and when it came he exited like one of the walking dead, which he currently felt like in spirit, but which he would literally feel like the next morning when his physically exhausted self would be placing a hopefully completed paper on Dr. Salt's desk.

Grasping his slowing evaporating freedom during the 3 block walk to his building, Connor felt like he was finally starting to appreciate life fully and that if he didn't have this one paper, that would probably be rather pointless in the grand scheme of things, that he would be completely happy. He thought about all the wonderful things he would do for himself and humanity that very night if it weren’t for that soul-sucking essay. If only.

Two eyes from inside a sleeping bag shadowed his shadow ghostly as he paced past. Connor suddenly felt envious of the homeless man. He wished he too had no concern for due dates, GPAs, or the causes of FEMA's failures during Hurricane Katrina or whatever it was that his paper was supposed to cover. He wished that instead of engaging in a wrestling match with his brain and laptop all night, he would be passing the darkness in a manner more compatible with the human body.

When the man was out of sight, Connor then thought about what a stupid, immature thing to think that was. This caused him to start a new inventory of all the immature thoughts that had led to his procrastination and all the immature thoughts that came flowing thus from when he was firmly in the grips of patience's evil twin.

Right before he sunk keys into his door, Connor was only a few more of the appropriate neurotransmitters away from indulging the impulse to run back down the stairs and down the street and back to the man in the sleeping bag. He thought he could ask the man something along the lines of "what's the meaning of life?" Every time he saw a homeless person he wanted to ask them really cliché questions like that. It wasn't that he thought he'd be returned with a variety of profound and insightful answers that hit upon truths that existed outside the responses typically conjured by conventional society, he was merely curious what they would have to say.

He didn't though. He thought he thought better of it.



Truth - Alexander

On a raft of cardboard, in a sea of concrete, Cable, laid inside his home. Below him, the sidewalk hardened. Hours before the last crumbs of heat absorbed from the day’s sunlight fled away from the cement and so, hiding as much from the world as from the cold, he lied there, huddling into his sleeping bag.

Most people would call it a game. He didn't. To him it was seconds and minutes, hours if he was lucky. It was time. It was something that didn't make hunger so sticky, the boredom so available to hang out, the regret so needy. It kept the cold from being drilled so deep, the guilt from prosecuting. It medicated momentarily.

A 21st century kid would be bored, but it was all he had at the moment and for a long train of moments that night it had been working. It didn't take much for something to work for him anymore. This one worked especially well when exhaustion's anti-effort propaganda was so convincing to every cell in his body. And so he laid. Still, immobile. If it weren't for his eyes that cut out the shadows of passerby's and re-imagined them like a child finding objects in the clouds, he would be so still that you'd swear he was the very center of the entire universe, around and upon which everything swirled and rotated and moved and hung and hinged, as he remained motionless; the frozen crux.

A young man was scuffing past. As he walked along his shadow was handed from streetlight to streetlight. From his horizontal vantage point, Cable tied the man’s shadow into the dynamic shape of a clock hand that kept going from 9 o’clock to 3 o’clock and then repeated the 180 degree turn again and again. Cable liked it when the shadow’s movements were shifty and complex. He liked it when it took more time to associate it with something. He liked what he had come up with just now.

The man walked on and Cable continued to watch the shadow that shifted loyalty from light to light until it had passed from his sight and he was forced to fast his eyes until another appeared.

Then, instead of a shadow, a sequence of high-pitched giggles; like someone running their finger up a piano's keyboard.

Cable's eyes went to the sound's estimated location. They brought back to him three people across the street. He continued to look on until details began to reveal themselves. There was one woman, and two males. One of the males was Carl, his homeless neighbor on the north side of Sheridan Street. He was always trying to sell people old, wrinkle-carved post cards. Usually people just gave him money and told him to keep the postcard. This is what appeared to be happening now. More laughter, the woman again, words were being spoken, but there was too much distance for Cable to find contrast between the sounds.

Another arpeggio of giggles followed by something that Cable would come to often think about. Carl grabbed the young women's hands; the man she was with took a step forward, not sure if his fight or flight response was about to be tested, but Carl only started dancing with her. It was a slow anachronistic, idiosyncratic dance that she went along with. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it.

The dancers shuffled around some more on the sidewalk as the other man looked on awkwardly. Carl spun the girl slowly over and over again. Watching them, Cable felt something. The feeling didn’t quite match up or overlap with anything he felt before. He liked the feeling at the time, but he wasn’t sure if he’d like it if he were to ever feel it again. All Cable knew was that at the moment, watching them, being Carl would be worth a winning lottery ticket, a thousand shooting stars, 3 genie wishes. Although it would have irritated Carl, and weirded out the girl’s escort even more, if Cable would’ve went and asked her right then and there, she would’ve danced with him too.

Carl finally dipped the girl for a finale, which spilled out some more giggles onto the street and then before Cable could take everything from the scene in, the girl and her wallflower were off walking away from them and back into that million human mass of people in the city that you weren't currently living life with firsthand.

Cable experienced wanting something so much that the desire for it is equaled and snuffed out by an ever-growing disappointment that comes from each moment’s awareness that one doesn't actually have it. It's the curse of wanting something too much. If you want something too much, you'll never actually get it. You’ll be blinded by the goal and never see the first step you could take to get there. The discontent will siphon your motivation and confuse your sense of direction. You'll just lay there and think about it, be tortured by it. Cable just laid there.

This memory was one that he would come back to frequently. Many times the thought of it would impart some relief from reality for him. It would also many times make him ache at how things actually are and were.




From time to time on their walk to her place, Caitlyn would start laughing. She knew her companion, Corbin, would not reflect as fondly about what had just happened. She imagined he felt annoyed, uncomfortable, a tad emasculated. She felt he was probably imagining her to be some flighty, impulsive hippy; which she kinda was, but also kinda wasn't. Either way she got irritated at the thought of him thinking that. She would remind herself that she didn't care, then think about randomly dancing with that homeless man, then laugh a little, then become aware that Corbin was still being a bit weird, then she'd start the cycle over again.

This was their second date and due to the majority of the walk that was concluding that date being conducted in silence, each was being forced to speculate on the status of their partner. It was forcing both of them to mentally put money down on the others' probable mood, thoughts, and desire for a third date.

Young Blood – The Naked & Famous

At her building, a half-hearted hug was exchanged along with a promise of future communication that was vague enough to be loop-holed out of later by either party. As soon as Corbin was gone, she realized she felt exhausted. There was no real time or energy left for anything so she began her pre-sleep checklist of chores and dressing down. Once in her bed, her relaxing mind and body caused her thoughts to slip easily from one to another.

Floating back to memories of college, the images in her mind were framed by cloudy, ethereal borders of nostalgia. She called upon recollections of those times when she felt like her personality was taking shape, finding contrast and distinction from the world around her. It was during college that she felt that she first truly achieved, in part, that existential goal of finding oneself that was so hyped up during her adolescence. It was like her eyes had finally gotten used to the dark and she saw that around her, it was not all black, but a palette of gray, and she saw that there were shapes and forms, and that she was one them and that she had her own form, her own shape, her own shade. Caitlyn’s current wistfulness also served to bowdlerize those memories into a format that better fit her current emotional ambiance; leaving out the often anguishing aspects of birthing one’s personality, and leaving only the times of self-knowledge amity.

It was then, during her four years of school, that she tagged herself with words such as impulsive, spontaneous, spirited. It was now that she felt like all those things were n/a. She saw that those attributes only fit when she had a floor under her. She was only those things when an institution like college was there to give her both reasons and excuses for doing it. Without that, without them; she wasn't. To be such a person now meant more than dancing with the homeless, but actually becoming homeless herself, jumping in her car and driving in some direction till something caught her eye or broke her car down. It meant pawning her stuff and taking off to Europe; filling in the blanks, connecting the dots later. It meant something she wasn't sure she was capable of. It meant something she wasn't sure she'd regret at 50.

So Caitlyn stuffed those thoughts back into some untidy, unorganized, mostly-forgotten shoebox and pushed it back under the bed in her mind. She threw in thoughts of tomorrow's demands, thoughts of disappointing, dull men like Corbin, thoughts of disappointment with herself, in too. With the idea that maybe when she woke up tomorrow something wonderful will have happened, something wonderful that will have changed it all for her; for the better.

Walking into Starbucks the next morning before work, Caitlyn exchanged places with a man holding a drink carrier who held the door for her before making his exit. Something in the man’s combination of manners, smile, haircut, Chukka boots; made Caitlyn want to take a second look. It was more than attraction. There was something about him that Caitlyn wanted to know; something that at the moment she felt like she might be able to understand simply by watching him walk away into the rest of his life.

Inside she spun around to the outside window. She watched the man get into an old car parked on the street. There was a woman in the passenger seat as well as shirts and suitcases hung up in and pressing against the back windows. She saw the out of state plates and began imagining their story. In her mind, they were two young artists who had grown tired of the 21st century brand of dizzyingly disconnected monotony and had set out upon the world at large to see what they could see and do what they could do. In her mind they were very kind, very witty, very attractive, very trendy, very physically/psychologically/emotionally/spiritually healthy people who were very much in love with one another.

She thought that she should do something like that. Maybe she just would.




Two days, 1200 miles, a sonically exhausted iPod, countless passive aggressive hints, three aggressive and direct arguments, and yet she still had not tired of echoing the GPS's British taskmaster voice. Every "turn. right. at. Mad-ee-sun" was doubled and he only found respite from the mimicking with phrases like "continue. for. eighty. miles."

His mood cycled through the nuances of a thesaurus entry for annoyed as his momentary sentiment would morph from irritated to exasperated to irked, miffed, ruffled, to perturbed to chafed to bothered to et cetera.

It was not just that she was his sister. Any human being continually doing that or any of the other myriad activities she deemed appropriate car trip behavior would've gotten under his skin. To her, it was exactly just because he was her brother. Only with him was she able to behave completely unchecked. For an 18 year old girl, being with someone that they are not trying to impress, attract, entertain, or any other of those word’s spiritual and synonym cousins and brethren; someone whom they don’t care what they thought of them, is a luxury and a relief and a necessity.

Someone’s Missing - MGMT

Cameron and Carmen Blythe were at the moment in the throes of something they would one day recall fondly, though that proposition seemed further off than the end of their cross-country trip. For Cameron, it was the road trip of shame, a tail-between-the-legs prodigal son homecoming. It was the best option for a dream to be a graphic designer that had run out of financial fuel, but which could still be rebooted. It was a logical, though uncomfortable decision that was made with understanding and empathetic parents. It was being 27 and moving back to somewhere he hadn't lived for nearly a decade. Ultimately, it was something that made sense; what he wanted to do could be done from anywhere, especially somewhere with free rent.

For Carmen it was a vacation. It was parents seeing an opportunity for brother-sister bonding, a senior trip for their graduating daughter, and something for Carmen to do besides going with her fellow New Mexican classmates to old Mexico again for spring break.

So a plane ticket was bought and under the pretense of helping Cam pack and having two drivers, the siblings were reunited. From her haphazard boxing up of his belongings, to her "letting" him do most of the driving, to her humming along to her heart's content despite her tunes’ correspondence with what was actually playing, to her spilling drinks 3 different times, to the never-ending repeated British accented directions, Cameron felt the same childish aggravation he felt at 14 when Carmen continually butted into his birthday sleepover. Though some of his irritation was understandable, Carmen was also unfairly and unknowingly being boxed in with some of Cameron’s current frustration with the elements of his life too.

The morning provided Cameron with none of the feelings of a fresh start, but the grimy aches of sleeping in a car with half the amount of rest he was used to getting in a bed. Neither did the trip ascribe feelings of untethering, of possibilities lined up; just an air of defeat.

Needless to say, Cameron did not feel like talking, least of all to his sister. So after handing Carmen her drink and making a cutting comment about spilling, the car was started and Cameron began to hibernate in his thoughts. He ignored the doubled "proceed. to. 23rd. Avenue" that he heard in his periphery, and continued driving. He ignored the humming she had struck up and the fact that Carmen seemed to be staring at him. He wasn't going to give in. It wasn’t easy though. Like an itch that you refuse to scratch, feeling that one is being stared at without checking to see if the hypnosis is true, can be a bit maddening. Still he would not do it. That's what she wanted.

The traffic light eased from yellow to red and Cameron eased the car up to the intersection and took his position at the starting light for the next turn of color. On the corner, right by the car, was a sign-twirler. Wearing a body suit the pale blue-green color of oxidized copper along with a slightly terrifying foam Statue of Liberty mask; the individual was uncomfortably close to the their car. Being stopped next to sign-twirlers made Cameron feel even more awkward than being stopped by panhandlers. The current presence of one also did nothing to help his already raggedy nerves.

The shoddy Statue of Liberty continued to dance and its movement tickled the corner of Cameron's eye, making him want to look straight at it. He refused. He couldn't give in to anything else besides looking straight ahead. The dancing continued. Beside him, Cameron sensed Carmen looking back and forth between the sign-twirler and him, wanting to see his reaction; to see if he wanted to laugh like she desperately wanted to. Laughing was even more out of the question than looking so he continued focusing ahead.

Cameron then noticed that the sign-twirler's dancing coincided with the beat of the song they were listening to. He found this amusing, but bit the corner of his mouth to prevent it from showing to his sister. The dancing continued and the longer they waited and the more the person danced, the more he wanted to laugh. The busy intersection slowly cycled through its lights and Cameron was centering all his willpower on not busting out.

But, when the sign-twirler started pelvic-thrusting it was too much for both a bitterly-disappointed and embarrassed 27 year old as well as a stubborn, deeply-annoyed and worn out brother and he laughed and so Carmen laughed too and they looked at each other as the light turned green and laughed even more; even harder.



Living in America - DOM

Twice to the right, then the same to the left, two up, two down, then once to the right and left and up and down and then four hip thrusts while correspondingly pushing the sign out and in; shoulders and legs improvised. Caleb had his routine down and was thus able to fill out his shifts robotically. From inside the costume he could care less about the people that laughed at him, honked at him, threw stuff at him, were politely annoyed by him, were made to feel slightly awkward by him. There were worse ways to earn 7.50 an hour. Plus, he could study while he worked.

Flowing into his ears from headphones was not music to dance to, but intermediate German lessons. He would listen and repeat hard, Spartan German phrases as he rhythmically moved his body. He was pretty sure that anyone who passed by him on foot thought he was uttering curses on them.

Once again, he did not care. Believing that contemporary American culture deserved such tacky marketing strategies as sign-twirling, Caleb felt no embarrassment nor regret for what he did. His only concerns were paying for school and working towards getting out of the states and over to a Berlin or a Munich or a Heidelberg or even a Vienna. Basically any place that spoke German and that didn't have to resort to such brainless tactics such as sign-twirling to get people's attention. This was not where he wanted to be nor what he wanted to be doing, but it was bearable because it was a way to get where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to be doing.

So Caleb continued to grind out the Germanic syllables for three more hours of twice to the right, then the same to the left, two up, two down, then once to the right and left and up and down and then four hip thrusts while correspondingly pushing the sign out and in; shoulders and legs improvised.

After his shift, Caleb took off his costume in an alley and biked back to campus. Slaloming through pedestrians he set out for the main library. There was some work on Goethe that he needed to complete before his next class at 2. He slipped into an empty table and began assembling his temporary work space. Reaching into his backpack and through the gaping mouth of his Lady Liberty mask he pulled a book out and started filing through the sticky-notes he had placed throughout the text.

Three paragraphs into his work, Caleb took a 5 minute break to get a drink and waste some time on the Internet. While unnecessarily checking his email for the second time in that 5 minute span, a conversation was overheard that Caleb deemed worth hopping unto.

At the table behind him, from the voices he heard, he believed there were 3 girls. One was describing to the others a "friend crush. You know, don't you like ever see someone, and you're just like, 'man I wish I were friends with them.” She went on to say that it was "totally different from a real crush. That's the whole point. If there're feelings like that at all then it's not a friend crush." Then furthered explained that you “can totally have a friend crush on a guy or a girl."

One of the girls expressed doubt over the possibility of such crushes and entered into some pseudo-Freudian rumination on subconscious sexuality. The last girl said she knew exactly what the first girl was talking about.

Caleb tried to get into his work, but continued to get tugged back into the conversation he was eavesdropping on. Between tangents on friend crushes and weekend plans, the three females seemed to be working on some sort of anthropology project. It was these episodes of focus from the girls that kept Caleb interested. In particular it was the girl who had spoken last who was distracting Caleb from his work with her keen comments on her own work.

From her, came many remarks on the inside-out social and economic decay of America which Caleb wholeheartedly agreed with. She spoke of some Scandinavian social policies which she believed would work in America. She blamed the current housing crisis on Congressional changes to the CRA in ‘92. She jumped from topic to topic, but she seemed like she knew what she was talking about. Caleb found himself surprised at how much of what she said, he had thought about on his own. His ears perked up even more when she began praising how Bavaria had grown into prosperity without losing its cultural or historic core. He wished he could turn around and talk to them (her).

We’re Happening – The Vaccines

He took the thought of speaking to her from nebulous wish to a potential occurrence to a game-planned reality. His priority now was deciding his course of action with this girl whom he'd never actually seen. In his mind he had two actions. The first was to turn around and, with an irresistible mix of wit and charisma, introduce himself and engage them in some non-creepy fashion. This seemed rather difficult as the words "creep," "creepy," and "creeper" were very much in vogue and people used every opportunity to assign such language to situations such as this. He could just see that one girl who didn't believe in friend crushes deciding that some aspect of him trying to talk to them was creepy and announcing this observation to all within library voice earshot; thus undercutting the merits of taking that action.

Also, he never thought of himself as “that guy”; the kind of man who could eloquently disarm strangers with his words and magnetism. Caleb believed in the idea of a dream girl much more than the American dream and with that belief, he always figured that to have the kind of romance he anticipated with this ideal girl, he would have to start out their courtship with a debonair action of the sort that a that guy would take. Even though no one else would see him as that guy, she would.

The second course of action would put this presumably suave first impression on hold for a bit. First he would find out as much as he could about her right then and there through eavesdropping, hopefully even a first name, then find her on Facebook, stalk her on Facebook, come up with a strategy to slowly work his way into her life based on the information she shared freely on Facebook. Probably, through some long-term approach like being in a class with her, then working on a group project in said class with her, working on said group project with her in the library, ironically talking with her in said library about friend crushes, then a smooth change in subject from said crushes to real crushes while walking her back to her dorm, revealing he has a real crush on her as they approached said dorm, have said crush reciprocated, followed by a joyous run back to his own dorm, a phone call to mom telling her he thought he had found "the one," then being able to tell the story at their rehearsal dinner about how he knew right from the very start that they were meant to be, and being able to retell the story at least once a year at family gatherings and such as they aged from newlyweds to parents to grandparents.

It then came into his mind a bit of practical wisdom once shared with him by his friend Carson. Carson told him of the strange phenomena where almost all girls sound attractive. He gave an example where you would be on the phone with some customer service representative and while you were talking with her, in your mind you would imagine her to be young, pretty, and single, when in reality the kind of woman working that job is probably 35, portly, and divorced. Ever after Caleb had found this to be overwhelmingly true in his own life and so presently he became scared at the thought of striking up a conversation with the girls only to discover that she was not as he pictured her. He combined these thoughts with the other sophomoric theory that he had been introduced to only that day as he tried to decide if he had a real crush or only a friend crush on this female.

After a thorough examination of this issue on levels both theoretical and functional, Caleb settled on his having a friend crush on this girl at the very least. He decided that the distinction really mattered little when all he really wanted to do was talk with her. With that squared he away he determined he would wait till the girls left and then he’d follow and catch up with her, introduce himself, and with humorous and refreshing honesty, confess his eavesdropping and begin a discourse that would hopefully lead to either a very happy friendship or romance. He slouched down in his seat and sighed happily at his simple little plan.

The silence in the library seemed a few decibels quieter/louder than it had been a few minutes earlier and with horror Caleb turned around to find the table behind him occupied by only a single male and with a glance at the clock, himself late and unprepared for his 2 o’clock.

He hustled his things into his backpack and ran off to class already formulating multiple devices for tracking his library fräulein down.




Dreaming - Seapony

She had been inside for far too long. Two hours of fluorescent light and stale air and Callie’s skin was ready for some pure vitamin D and her lungs craved air without an expiration date. Especially today. Though she had spent the majority of her life under a roof, today was one of those days where the presence of walls somehow felt like an intrusion on her existence.

With a cancelled class and a solid start on a group project, Callie’s obligations for the day were now non-existent, but instead of engaging in some open air activity, she headed back to her dorm to seize the opportunity for a nap. So across the lawns that were heaving green after a week’s worth of sporadic rain and through a campus whose foliage was rebuilding itself after a cold winter, Callie took in the Friday afternoon feeling that shows possibilities and hides responsibilities.

Sliding into her unmade bed, Callie resumed the last position she had found herself in that morning.

2-ish hours later, reality slowly fluttered down to her consciousness like a shirt blown off the clothesline and settling on the lawn. It came to her first that she was in her room. Next, she realized it was PM not AM. Then, she recalled that it was Friday. Now, it came to her mind that it was 4:19. Followed by an attempt to recall her nap’s dream, which had sadly been ripped up into scraps too small to reassemble by the time she tried. Then, it was the decision to search for her phone which she had lost among the tides of bed sheets. After that, it was the slow processing of a text message inquiring about Callie’s availability that evening that preceded an invitation to go to a bonfire if she was free. This was followed by an affirmative reply on all accounts and a subsequent choice to lay back down; not caring if she fell back asleep or if she just laid there thinking.

She did both back and forth and it was during a downhill descent back into sleep that her vibrating phone awoke her fully. Answering in a voice thick with sleep, Callie discovered that her friends were in the car waiting to leave and wondering why she had stopped responding to their texts. Suddenly alert and still in her clothes, Callie was quickly off to meet her friends.

It was now almost 7:00. Callie and her girlfriends allowed themselves their one nutritional splurge of the week as they gave in to the convenience of the drive-thru before setting out on the 90 minute drive they had ahead of them. Even after they had eaten and been on the road for a bit, Callie was still dusting off some grogginess and trying to truly wake up.

She started thinking about how much she had slept. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. Over the course of her life at school she had experienced many of these unplanned marathon naps. Callie and her friends would joke and call them piggy bank naps where weeks of subtle exhaustion build up to the point that you have to just cash out and check out for a while. They always surprised her though, when they actually happened.

River – Akron/Family

With the darkness increasing and the civilization decreasing, Callie found herself more and more disoriented and unfamiliar with their location even though she had been out this way many times before. She was glad when the car began slowing before changing directions and road surfaces as the pavement gave way to dirt. They were just about there. She saw a fire behind bars of trees and barriers of cars. Once again, she was ready to be unconfined.

Getting out of the car, Callie walked straight to the fire. She felt a little bad for not being very engaged with the others during the drive. Her world seemed to be on a couple seconds time-delay from the world outside her and so she hadn’t been the best company. Fires, like TVs and babies, gave excuses to stare and not talk and that’s what sounded best to her at the moment.

Most people were still greeting one another or getting something to drink, but Callie went and found a place on a log. Putting her hands in the pockets of her pullover, she leaned towards the fire like it was in the middle of telling the most fascinating story.

The dropping temperatures ushered more people towards the heat. Callie greeted any familiar faces that greeted her first, but most of her attention went to the fire. She found herself following the blue flames as they moved around the very center of the fire. She soon lost herself staring as the flowing flames took precedence over the surroundings in her consciousness.

“You ever notice how everyone looks better in firelight?”

A guy suddenly appeared sitting next to her, straddling the log, posing random questions, and forcing her to regain the presence required for human interaction.

“Hm?” She said.

“Have you ever noticed how people are better looking in firelight?”

Never one to be rude without cause and this being far from the first time a man had begun interacting with her without an apparent reason, Callie replied simply,

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Look around. You probably know most of these people or at least have seen them before, right? Well look at some of them and tell me if you think they look more attractive than usual.”

Callie looked at the guy for a second to see how serious he was, shrugged to herself, then did a sweep of the people near the fire. To her surprise, she did legitimately find that the people seemed to be better looking than usual. Their faces seemed interesting and full of life. There was something in each person that Callie wanted to linger on.

“Whoa. I don’t know if it’s like a placebo effect or what, but they really do look better.”

He laughed then said, “It’s for real. I’m telling you, you can’t photoshop people to look as good as what they do near a fire.”

“And why is that? Enlighten me.”

“It’s because of the movement. So the fire gives enough light that you can clearly see a person and what they look like, but because the fire’s moving, people’s bad features seem temporary and they become kinda invisible. So you don’t notice them. You see the face for once, not just the unibrow or the crooked nose.”

“Do you use this line at every bonfire?”

He laughed again, then said, “It’s not a line. It’s the truth. People don’t describe brides and mothers-to-be as glowing for no reason, right?”

“’K, well, I’m not going to lie, I’m kinda buying into it.”

“As you should. Think about it. If you’re talking to someone and they have like a weird birthmark that’s awkwardly close to their lips: most of the time when you’re talking to them, you’re focusing in on that, but…in the firelight, the flicker makes that birthmark go in and out of visibility so you don’t really focus in on it and you end up seeing the rest of their face. That face is no longer defined by that birthmark, it’s just a face. It’s weird, but it’s true.”

“What’s your name?”

“Chayce. Yours?”

“Callie. And tell me Chayce, where did you acquire this bit of ancient wisdom?”

“Just paying attention, that’s all. I don’t know, I like fires so I’ve had lots of opportunities to pick up on it.”

“Are we a pyro then?”

“Mmmm…not quite. “

“So why then?”

“Why I like fires? Well, I don’t know if this will make sense, but do you ever feel like everything’s moving like really, really fast?”

“Yeah.”

“’K, me too. Sometimes I feel like everything’s moving so fast that I’m constantly going to be nostalgic for something. You know just cause everything’s changing so fast? Before I know it, the things around me are gone and I’ve moved on almost without knowing it. I’m telling you, almost every day feels like an out of body experience for me. It always feels like a combination of yesterday and tomorrow or something, but never today. And it just makes me always nostalgic for something. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Actually, I kinda think I know what you’re talking about, but… what does that have to do with fires?”

“Oh yeah yeah. Sorry sometimes I just get going and forget where I’m heading with something. And I know this will sound hokey, but please believe me that this is being said in all sincerity. So anyways, fires have this natural sense of movement. It’s constructive and destructive at the same time. There’s a balance to it you know? So like just by watching it or being around it, I feel like I’m back on track with the proper rhythm of things.”

“No, yeah, that makes sense too and even if it’s insincere, it at least sounds good so…”

“Well, I’ll take that. Seriously, I hope I’m not coming off like I’m trying to be some Native American mystique or something. I can promise you I don’t usually take myself this seriously. So I apologize for busting out all this weird, abstract stuff before building it up with some “hi, how are you?’s and such.”

“It’s actually easier to talk about this kind of stuff than small talk sometimes.”

“Agreed. Anyways, I still can’t get over how everyone always looks better around a fire.”

continue reading...

Slid

Terrible Love - The National

She slid the planner back to me across the table. Inside she had just marked down her birthday. The entry for October 26th now read, “This Day in History: Lane Medley born in Kansas City, Mo.” Around it she had doodled fireworks and balloons. That date was less than two months away. Then she started studying again. We were in the library.

I tried to study too, but I kept looking at her. Not staring though.

At ten, she closed her books and we left to meet some friends at this 24 hour breakfast place called “Clark’s.” Then we went to my friend’s house and listened to records. She fell asleep and I almost did, so I took her back. On the drive to her apartment she got awake again or at least awake enough to talk. We parked. She laughed and said she might have a thing for me.

***

I woke up and walked down to Grady’s room. I knocked and we went to go workout. Grady used to be on the baseball team before he decided there was no point in playing division II athletics. He still had a pass to the athlete’s weight room though and we usually lifted there. That morning the girls soccer team had already taken it over so we went to the student gym.

“You know some girls exercise like 2, 3 hours a day?” Grady said as we went past a row of girls and one guy on the ellipticals.

“Who has time for that?” I replied.

“Who has motivation for that?”

“I for real see Jen Crane jogging like ten times a day. It feels like every time I’m driving around campus, no matter what time, I always see her running.”

“But, do you ever see it making any difference?” he asked. Jen was heavier and had a bigger body type. She looked like she was killing herself whenever I saw her jogging around, but she still looked the same.

Today we were doing shoulders and back. We were going a little harder today. I’m not sure why.

“I hung out with Lane last night,” I said between sets.

“Lane Medley?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that happening?”

“What do you mean ‘happening’?” I knew what he meant, but asked anyway. It was stupid.

***

My friend Luke wanted to get coffee so I skipped my ten o’clock and met him at “Grata,” this café coffeehouse thing downtown. He was a finance major, but what he really did was art stuff; painting and playing in a band and all that.

“Why don’t you guys play shows anymore? Why doesn’t anyone really play shows anymore?” I asked once we sat down.

“The scene’s not happening.”

“The scene’s happening, just not well.”

“It’s mostly underclassmen bands and to me it feels off.”

“That’s cause you guys either think you’re too cool or you’ve stopped caring.”

“Why don’t you start a band then?”

“Why don’t you just make the scene happening again? Whatever that means.”

“Graham told me Lane and you came over last night.”

“Yeah, we put on some freak-folk records, and then had this really great, deep talk about spirituality and stuff.”

“For real?”

“No, but we did listen to music for awhile and it made us all so chill we were fighting off sleep. Where were you?”

“With a study group believe it or not.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing I don’t think.”

“Want to check out that new Redline place with me and some people?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“You should bring Lane too.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

***

That afternoon after classes, I went back to that same café. I sat by myself on the street, smelling the smoke and listening to cars brake and accelerate. I brought some books with me, but I couldn’t decide if I wanted to read them. My waitress had read one of the books I had with me so we talked about that for a bit. The café was pretty slow so she stayed for awhile.

Talking to bored employees is a favorite past time of mine. Bored employees have nothing to hide and nothing better to do. I for real think you’ll find no more honest and engaged conversation than with them; even more so than with little kids. At least it’s more intelligent than with kids. These employees will tell you all the secrets of a place and all their opinions on stuff. It’s nice to listen to. I want to find some friends who are like bored employees all the time.

I saw Lane and her friend Kayla walking on the other side of the street. I didn’t feel like yelling so I just texted Lane to look to her left. It took a little while for her and Kayla to spot me. They laughed like seeing me there across the street was the funniest thing ever. They came over.

“Don’t you just look like the cliché college student?” Kayla started.

“You know it’d be hotter if you were writing books instead of just reading them,” said Lane.

“Well you should know I’m not doing either. These books are just props. I got to keep up the look.”

They sat down and the waitress came out and took their order.

“What have you guys been up to?”

“Oh, just shoe shopping,” Lane replied.

“Shoe shopping, of course, I should’ve guessed,” I said. “So only shoes? What if you see other clothing items you want?”

“Just shoes. If we started buying other stuff it would quickly turn from shoe shopping to outfit shopping which would turn into a lecture from my father about my card statements,” Kayla answered.

I’ve never heard of most of these girls having a job. It’s funny cause I hear them complain about money a lot, but I’m pretty sure it’s their parents who are giving it to them. And also, I know their parents will keep funding them no matter what; even if they complain to their kids to be more responsible with their money, they still won’t stop. Neither will. It just seems kinda weird to me.

“So it’s kind of like if you give a mouse a cookie, if you buy a girl a headband, she’ll want a…” I trailed off the implication.

We sat out in the café for more than an hour. We played Name their Fetish where we come up with weird fetishes for the people who walk by. It was fun and I made plans for them to come to the restaurant with us that night.


**********************************************************************************


Kayla and Lane came and picked me up in Kayla’s car a few hours after we left the cafe. We headed over to meet everyone at the restaurant. We drove by and saw Luke standing out front with some people and texting on his cell phone. From the car we said hi to him and then spent a few trying to find a parking spot. Redline was on 7th and Congress and we ended up in a garage three blocks over.

Luke was with our friend Graham and two people I didn’t know named Cassidy and Paige. I recognized Cassidy from a gen ed econ class I had last year. We were seated like a minute after the three of us got there.

“I think I dig any restaurant that has both burgers and sushi on the same menu. So it’s looking good for this place,” Luke said.

“The menus are a little on the large side,” I remarked as I flipped mine up to hide behind.

“I know, I feel like I’m at work in a cubicle,” Cassidy joked and hid behind his too.

This place was trying to be trendy and as long as they make an attempt it’s at least interesting to watch. None of the waiters or waitresses in these restaurants look that interesting though. They’re almost always wearing black. They wore all black here too. That coupled with the low lighting of the place created an affect where it seemed like the waiters appeared out of nowhere. That took some getting used to. I liked the place good enough though.



Sink/Let it Sway – Someone Still Love You Boris Yeltsin



The rest of dinner was fine. Afterwards we decided to head over to this place “Crustasian’s,” where a new band that was supposed to be good was playing. There’re always supposed to be good so I never really know what that statement means. It was across town so we drove. It took a bit to find a parking spot again.

We went right inside when we got there. There wasn’t much happening inside. The show didn’t start for an hour. Cassidy, Paige, and Graham went outside. They said they needed to smoke. They probably weren’t going to smoke cigarettes or anything typical like that. People like that are usually smoking just the weirdest things: foreign stuff, things that are weeks away from being declared illegal, etc.; just to say they were doing it.

Kayla and Luke went up to the bar. Lane and I acted like we were going to the bathroom, but we just went over by a wall to talk. There were red lights all over the inside and so everything had a red tint. They made me feel like I was trapped in a tanning bed. I’m not sure tanning beds use red lights, but I guess they do in my mind. Actually, I felt more like there was a giant video camera right outside the place taping us all and its red recording light was bleeding in through the window and lighting most of the inside because the camera was that huge. There were Chinese papers lanterns hanging down all over the place with some of the red lights in them too. They swayed gently in response to the ceiling fans that were on full rotation.

“Having fun?” I asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“As far as I know, yeah.”

“You want to go outside for a sec?”

“Sure.”

We left through a back entrance and came back in fifteen minutes later. It had gotten considerably busier since we left. I spotted our group. We walked over.

“…called Libertarian Paternalism,” Cassidy was speaking. His face seemed flush, but maybe it was just the lights. “Like people who have gambling problems, in Missouri they sign like a waiver or something and even if they go into a casino, whatever they win, they have to give back to the state. I don’t know, I think it’s kinda cool.”

“But that’s not even treating them like adults,” Paige said.

“Exactly, but what does it matter if they don’t even treat themselves as adults? What’s worse: them submitting to their addictive impulses to gamble or them submitting to the government in order to get over a serious problem?”

“To me if you’re going to quote, unquote submit to something, might as well let it be something that makes you better,” Graham added.

“But, does it actually make you better if you’re being forced to and you’re not really doing it yourself?” Luke asked.

“It at least doesn’t make you worse,” Cassidy replied.

“Still I feel like if you’re an adult you should be treated like one; even if it means digging your own grave. It’s every adult’s right to figure out what’s good for themselves. They shouldn’t be told what’s best for them on something that’s legal like gambling,” Paige joined in again.

“Why? Most of the adults I know are just about as clueless as the kids I know as to what’s good for themselves. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean all that much,” argued Cassidy.

“I don’t know…”Kayla started

I didn’t join in. I just listened. I’m not apathetic, I just don’t really care. I don’t care that much about what I think and I don’t care that much about if I’m right or wrong. I looked at Lane and she was listening intently. She didn’t speak either.

That talk continued for awhile. It was pretty interesting for a bit. Soon enough they were talking in circles though and with lots of vague proclamations and generalities swirling around. So, I leaned over to Lane and asked,

“What do you think of this place?”

She laughed a little, then said, “I’m not sure what to make of it.” It was Asian themed, but in a haphazard, ironic way that wasn’t actually trying to make this place feel Asian. “Some of it’s pretty funny, but some of it annoys me. I don’t even know why,” she added with another laugh. The DJ booth looked like a Japanese steakhouse grill. You could even sit right up around it, just like at one of those restaurants. Lane grabbed two chopsticks that they had littered about on the bar and put her hair up with them. I’m always impressed at how skilled girls are at maneuvering their hair when it’s behind their head and they can’t even see it.

“How do I look?”

“Fab. That’s the only word for it. You really went all out in keeping with the oriental motif.” I picked up chopsticks of my own and reached over to steal a cherry that was in Kayla’s drink when she wasn’t looking. Then I brought it and dropped it in Lane’s mouth. Then I shook my head and started laughing. “We’re ridiculous,” I said.

“I know,” she said and laughed some more. The band was supposed to start relatively soon so we figured since we were just standing around and talking we might as well stand and talk around by the stage. So we stood and talked till they came on.



Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema Club



When they came onstage, I checked and saw that I didn’t recognize any of them. It seemed like I used to know everyone in the music scene even though I didn’t play myself. They came out and made baseball signals with the guys in the booth to get the sound right. They moved around and made a few remarks to each other, then took their places and started their set.

My thoughts flowed to Lane though. She was dancing in front of me. 

Dancing is like an exponent with girls. If they’re good, it just makes them that much more attractive. If they’re bad and it’s a negative exponent; it kind of kills it. I kept thinking about Lane though. This whole thing with Lane was different to me.

It was strange for me because I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to talk about it or not; like to others and stuff. That’s not that big of an aspect in a relationship, but I kept thinking about it. I didn’t know why I brought her up when I was lifting with Grady. I didn’t know why I felt weird when Luke mentioned her. If people ask me about someone I’m seeing, I’m pretty open about it and it’s not a big deal to me, but it’s not like me to introduce it. It’s just kinda whatever with me.

I kept thinking about it and I kept thinking about Lane. She was a good dancer and she looked like she has having fun. Actually, the dancing thing with exponents isn’t really about if they’re good or not. It’s a positive exponent if you like to watch them dance. It’s negative if you don’t like watching them, which can even happen if they’re a really good dancer. I can’t even think of a common denominator that explains why you like to watch some girls dance and not others.

Music has a way of exaggerating emotions and I think something like that began to happen with me at that show. I started getting these bursts of affection for Lane that were welling up in me. It was like this bubble that started in my stomach and rose up, getting bigger. It was weird.

When they were at their height though, Lane would suddenly be in slow-motion and everything sounded like I was underwater. Then they would go away. Then they would come back. It sounds ridiculous even to me. It’s what I was feeling though, and somewhere in all that stupid bubble stuff I thought I hit on why I was feeling weird about her. To me, it was because I was uneasy about it. It wasn’t anything wrong with her or me or timing or anything like that. It was just something about the whole thing that made me uneasy. It was like being at a desk and leaving for a few minutes and coming back and feeling like something’s different, but you don’t know what. To me, it then seemed like a very good thing that I was uneasy about it. I didn’t know exactly what I meant by that, but it made a lot of sense to me at the time.

Lane grabbed my hands and we both began dancing around together. The music was the kind that you wouldn’t really dance to recorded, but if you heard it live you wanted to dance. I think the band was called “Yellow Light Dilemma.” It was a little too high-school emo band for me, but I personally found it kind of funny.

I looked at Lane and she was staring at this couple that was dancing all over each other. It was funny how careful they were being to not spill their drinks. She saw me watching her.

“There’s no way we could top them for most obnoxious couple, but you know how we can come close?” Lane leaned in like she was going to whisper, but half-yelled. I took note that the way she used the word “couple” implied that we were too.

“How?”

“Unnecessary sunglass wearing!” She screamed and put her Wayfarer’s on me. I snagged my own fake Ray Bans from my pocket and put mine on her. We were both laughing and then she twirled. We kept on dancing together. The bubble thing started again and when they were at their apex I felt for Lane the way I felt about life every Friday afternoon in elementary school right before it let out for the weekend.



Expectation - Tame Impala



After the show we ended up at somebody’s apartment. Whose it was I didn’t really care. I’ve found myself in so many random apartments and houses over the years. Sometimes I’m there for only a few minutes, one time I was there for a week. Most of the time they were nothing more than a figurative ottoman to rest your night on for a bit.

Lane had to make a call so she went outside and I found myself talking with Paige. The apartment had a real chill vibe and there were a bunch of muted-toned lights of various colors around. Some had designs, some didn’t, some moved and some didn’t.

There were also more beanbag chairs in there than I had seen since my friend Matt’s 11th birthday party. Beanbag chairs are so weird because I feel like so many people have one that they just keep in the closet till that one time a semester when they need it. I always feel like I’m the one who ends up on a beanbag in the middle of the room while everyone else is on couches; I feel like we’re usually watching a movie when that happens. Not that it matters, but I got preoccupied thinking about them for a bit.

“So what year are you?” I asked Paige.

“I’m a junior…”

There were a lot of lava lamps in there too I noticed. I then started thinking about lava lamps as Paige and I talked. We talked about the show earlier. Then we talked about podcasts. Then we talked about photography. Then we talked about a trip to China she was going on pertaining to photography. She honestly bored me at first, but then I found her more and more interesting.

“So how long will you be gone total?”

“3 months.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It’ll be the longest I’ve ever been away from home.”

“How homesick do you usually get?”

“Not very, but I hear you start missing the states a lot when you’re away from here.”

“For real, it’s true. I studied in Spain for a year and I just couldn’t wait to see like a Wal-Mart or something. I traveled to London and about blew my mind because I went to a Chili’s and they have all that stupid Americana stuff all over the walls.”

“I swear, my mom just redid her basement and it seriously looks like one of those places with all that random crap decorating it.”

“I’ve always wanted to gaslight a place like that by going in there and every time I do, I replace something on the wall with some artifact from my room until I’ve transformed it and a section of that restaurant is totally indistinguishable from my room.” She thought that was really funny so I continued. “Those places are so weird, like I’ve seriously seen like little kids rec league team pictures in some. How weird is that? Like who thought that was a good idea? Anyways, I think I could really do it and no one would notice.”

“Let’s do it. I’ll help. It’ll be a good project for us to work on this semester.”

“I’m in.”

Paige was more fun than I expected. Sometimes people like her who are a bit artsy have no real sense of humor. They feel like they can’t laugh because there’s starving kids in Africa or they decide to not actively listen to any sentence without a five syllable word in it. And it’s not in a snobbish way, it’s just in a taking things too serious way.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked. It came into my mind that I hadn’t seen those in our group in awhile.

“Well, Luke is over there with Cassidy and Kayla.” She nodded to the doorway of a bedroom where the three of them were standing around talking to a group of people.

“Uhuh,” I said slowly as I looked at them.

We looked around some more, but didn’t see anyone.

“You want anything to drink?” I asked.

“No I’m good, you?”

“Nope, I just feel compelled to ask to make sure.”

“I see.”

“So you know Luke?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How long have you known him?”

“Umm…I don’t know, a while. At least two years.”

“Huh. It’s weird, I feel like we should’ve met each other before.”

“I know, you would think.”

Cassidy broke away from the people he was talking to and walked up to us.

“Cassidy, I love this kid. Why haven’t we been hanging out with this guy before?” said Paige.

He took a deep breath, looked at me and nodded as if in deep thought. “Well, my theory is that you, my new friend, are not actually a student, but a journalist sent in undercover to get a firsthand report on the wild, hedonistic lifestyle of parties and orgies lead by today’s university student.” He looked back and forth between Paige and I with cartoon shifty eyes, and then started directing his comments at Paige. “Sadly though, his story will be skewed by this little detour to some lame stoner’s apartment.” He leaned slightly towards me and whispered, “Don’t be fooled. Real college parties have many more beautiful people. Though, if you really wanted to have fun, you should’ve posed as a football recruit. They would’ve certainly showed you a good time,” he winked for punctuation. I couldn’t help laughing, Paige too.

He glanced around and started talking before either of us responded, “I bet this person’s a jam band fan. Anyone with this amount of lava lamps has to dig jam bands. I bet if we checked a closet we would find a stockpile of Mexican ponchos. Why are we still here? What is happening? We should go. Oh, but are you a reporter?”

“Would you even believe me if I told you the truth? But sadly no. I wish though, because that would mean I’d have a job; something that’s not looking too good for us when we graduate.”

“I know! Totally! This recession has impeccable timing for our generation. Especially our generation: the laziest, sissiest group of humans ever assembled. This is just what we need, an excuse to not have a job so we can finally have time to find ourselves.”

“For real. My parents had such high expectations of me becoming just like them with a dog, two kids, and a house in a gated community. I’m going to be such a disappointment.”

“Actually it’s 1.28 pets, 3.3 kids, and 2,433 square foot home. I memorized those stats for a class and use every opportunity I can to show them off,” Cassidy grinned as he said that.

“Well I’m impressed,” I said.

“It’s funny though, so many of us acted like that sort of average lifestyle was the last thing we wanted as adults, but I think that for most of those people it’s still what they secretly wanted or at least assumed would happen. Now all that stable suburban lifestyle stuff seems like a mirage.”

“Seriously. I don’t get how average became a fairy tale.”

“Yeah,” agreed Paige. “How can something so boring and mediocre not even be real anymore?”

“Well, there’s always the sweatshop route to gainful employment,” commented Cassidy to break us momentarily losing ourselves in our own thoughts.

Lane walked into the apartment then and came over to us.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” said I. “You’re a busy, important person. I get it.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at my comment before asking,

“So do you guys’ know whose place this is?”

Paige, Cassidy and I looked at each other and shook our heads. Then I asked,

“Why?”

“Just curious. It’s just kind of a trippy place so I was wondering.”

“I was just thinking the exact same thing. Anyways, I think the time has come my little friends,” Cassidy said as he took off to go round up the others.

Lane, Paige, and I ended up talking about the books that were on this bookshelf we were standing by. We left like a half hour later.



Heaven’s on Fire –The Radio Dept.



We next found ourselves at a house party at a way nice place. There were a lot of people there; a lot of athletes too. I waved to Grady who was there with some of his old baseball friends. Lane and I wandered off on our own and eventually sat down on the bottom steps of a staircase. This proved to be a poor decision. The stairs were in regular use and usually by people for whom consistently level ground was enough of a challenge. It was quite distracting and we constantly felt like we were either going to be witnessing or breaking someone’s fall.

“Do you want to walk around?” I asked Lane.

“Not really, but if you do…”

“I don’t, but I don’t want to sit here either.”

We walked around a bit and settled on a window sill that was wide enough for sitting.

“Could you see yourself living in a place like this?” I asked her.

“Umm…hmm, I don’t know. See whenever I do my whole future daydream thing it’s always focused on journalism. A house or an apartment or anything never really factors in. In my mind it seems like I’m usually just running around some third-world country draped in Khaki. Really just thinking of my own place seems like such a distant part of life right now. Could you?”

“Yeah.” Then as an addendum, I said, “Honestly I could see myself living in just about anything though.”

Graham found his way over to us.

“Feeling anti-social are we?”

“Chill. That’s how we like to put it,” said Lane.

“Yeah, if you had your record player, we could put on some vinyl’s and Lane here would be a goner,” I added. Lane laughed.

“I know it’s inexcusably lame to fall asleep on you guys like that, but that thing has some kind of hypnotic effect on me. Everything you guys played last night sounded like a lullaby.”

“It’s ok, I was just about to nod off when you did.”

“Oh! Do you know what I heard about this place? I heard that the kid who lives here, his dad is Craig Drake, the news anchor guy,” Graham said. I just looked at him and started laughing. “What, do you not believe it?” he asked me.

“I mean, I have no idea. I really don’t care whether or not it’s true. It just struck me as funny.” Graham looked at Lane to see her reaction. She looked at me.

“Guess what else I heard about this place?”

“What?”

“Apparently they have some big Bible study here every Thursday night. So on Thursday nights this house is packed for some Bible thing and then on the weekend it’s the party house. A Bible study!” he added again at the end.

I laughed some more at what he said. He seemed a little annoyed that this was humoring me in an unintended way. He left a little while later. Then Cassidy and Kayla came over. I asked him if he knew anything about the residents of the house. I was pretty sure that Cassidy was the one who took us here.

“Yeah, I went to high school with him.”

“What does his dad do?”

“I’m not sure exactly, just one of those random rich businessmen types. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” I said laughing some more. I then asked him about the Bible study thing. He looked perplexed and I told him, laughing even more, that sometimes you just hear weird things. They left to get something to drink.

After they went, in my mind I decided that I didn’t really want to see anyone else the rest of the night. We didn’t do anything, Lane and I. We just sat there at the windowsill. I thought about how I was glad that Cassidy was there with Paige and I when Lane came back in. I didn’t want Lane to think I was flirting with Paige. Typically, I could care less about that.

We were both a little tired so we decided to leave before everyone else. Lane already had Kayla’s keys, but she wanted to see if Kayla wanted to ride back with us. I stayed at the window as she left to go talk to Kayla. I played with a tassel on the corner of a rug that I could just barely reach with my shoe. When she came back she said that Cassidy was going to give Kayla a ride back. Then she smiled and shrugged.

“Good for them I guess,” I said.

**********************************************************************************

I found myself with Lane pretty much every day of the next week. She left that weekend with some of her friends to go to one of their family’s ranches to ride horses or something ridiculous like that. Luke, Cassidy, and I went to the game Friday night and then drove like two hours to someone’s lake house where we only stayed for a little more than an hour before coming back. On Saturday Luke, Graham, Grady, and I spent a peripatetic night bouncing around from place to place. We were at Luke and Graham’s house for the longest spell, watching a movie and playing video games.

The whole time, I was texting Lane though. Throughout both nights we kept it up. I even called and talked to her a few times before she came back to school Sunday. This was not my usual mode of operation. The few times I had bridged the absence from a girl by keeping in contact with her, it had honestly felt like a chore and I did it as little as I had to.

I wanted to with Lane though and I had fun with it. I even missed her. I even tried to fill those gaps where I missed her by imagining special things I could do for her on her birthday. I even got excited planning out what I was going to do.

When I thought about all the girls and relationships I’ve found myself involved with, there’s something so inevitable about it all. It’s like because I’m young and not in a monastery, it just seems to happen. It’s not just attraction or relationships with people, but the actual involvement with romance and all. Even if you’re not necessarily looking for it, even if you’re not necessarily trying for it, you still find yourself in it. It’s like how there’s 4 pens in the cup holder of my car. I don’t exactly want them there, I don’t really care that they are there, but I do not know how or why they all got there. They still are though. I just looked down one day and consciously noticed them. Things with Lane were on purpose for me. It was intentional with her.



Mtn Song for M Howell– The Shot Heard Round the World



We kept hanging out and that next Wednesday I purposefully caught her as she was walking to her last afternoon class and asked if she wanted a ride. She got in and instead of taking her to class I took off into the country to go for a drive. I didn’t think she’d care about not going class and she didn’t. We slipped our way out of town and careened up and around the hill country.

I don’t know how long we drove, but it was a good amount of time. We played lots of songs for each other, back and forth, and just talked. I took her to this one place I had camped at with my friends a couple times. It was just a little clearing in the trees. Really there wasn’t anything that special about it, but driving up in the hills to this spot had always been my ritual when I was taking myself too seriously and felt overly dramatic things like 'I need to get away from everything' or 'I need to clear my head.' I’m not a fan of hearing people gush about how therapeutic and restorative they find nature to be. Even so, I admit I usually did feel better after going up there. I thought she’d like to see it too.

We talked till the sun began to set. I liked talking to Lane. When I talked with her I didn’t care whether or not we agreed on stuff. I just wanted to hear what she had to say. Talking with her made me want to hear what I had to say too. I said some pretty sappy things to her that afternoon. I meant them too. We talked about lots of other stuff, but the sappy stuff is what I’ll always remember. I didn’t say them to be sweet or to try and be honest about my feelings, I just wanted her to know. I was pretty affectionate that afternoon too.

Sometimes I don’t like to think about it or us in too much specifics. Things like what exactly we said or did or how exactly I felt because when I do it just sounds like everyone else when they talk about their own loves and romances. I wanted us to be different. I felt like we were different. I don’t like it when it sounds like we weren’t.

I don’t want to make that afternoon out to be really cheesy or maudlin or anything because it wasn’t; at least to me. I even feel weird when I think about how I liked the sunset we saw that day on the drive back. I remember it being really red. It was cool though, but to me it’s a little much to think about a sunset in that context. It’s kinda funny, but all my memories of that day, in my mind, look like they were shot on one of those old 8mm film cameras. How’s that for cliché?



Gonna Beg You – The Bird Day




I like to think. Not like problem-solving thinking, but just to let thoughts pass through my mind as I play border patrol and decide what kind of access I’ll allow them in my beliefs. It’s nice because if you like to think like that, you’ll barely ever get bored. Anyways, this one time I was thinking, or I guess musing might be more accurate, but I just remember this particular time being more thoughtful than usual.

When I’m like this and I’m running all these things through my head, I usually don’t even know where all these thoughts are coming from. It’s like they just randomly line up and I run them through an x-ray machine and I’m trying to strain them or scrutinize them. The thoughts will keep coming and passing over me and sometimes they’ll stick. It’s like something in my mind is a magnet and some thoughts seem weirdly magnetized and so they’ll stay in my brain for longer.

So, this one night when I was thinking about stuff a thought came into my mind and stuck right on the magnet and I couldn’t shake it. I tried to, but it stayed. I tried to bring in other thoughts to cover it up, but something about it just seized me. It’s one of those thoughts that only mean something to the person that thought it. It would seem pretty inchoate and inconsequential to someone else. It wouldn’t even seem like that big of a deal. No one else could live the thought though. They could just see the words of it. They couldn’t live it. You have to show these thoughts more respect when you’re the one who has to live them; when you’re the one who knows about how all your senses are attached to it, how your past and future and right now were attached to it. It’s better not to think about thoughts in that way though.

But this particular thought that stuck was not one I necessarily believed was true and I told myself that just because you thought it, that doesn’t necessarily make it true, just because it’s sticking around, doesn’t mean it’s true. It was still.

Since then the thought had been mostly buried and obscured by the sands and winds of my daily routine, but it was the thought that I was thinking as I read the text message from the number I had deleted but memorized, that read “Can we talk?” It was the thought that said “you’ll go to Abigail whenever she calls…no matter what.” And that’s what I did.

I texted Lane that I was busy when she wanted to hang out and I went over to the performing arts center. I met Abigail on the fire escape on the back side of the building. She was still in costume; a yellow Victorian era dress with her hair done up high. I didn’t think about it at the time, but it was probably a pretty funny scene.

She had been crying and her excess stage make-up looked garish from the tears. I met Abigail the year before. I had ended up at a party at her family’s lake house at the start of our fall break from school. That party was where I was introduced to her. I ended up staying there for the week. I even met her family and spent the last part of the week with all of them too. It was pretty weird, but it didn’t seem strange at the time. At the time it made complete sense that I would spend fall break with this girl I had always heard of, but never met; that I’d spend a break with her family like I was a serious boyfriend. I didn’t even like her that much and I didn’t feel like she was even that fond of me. We got along really good, but in a weird way, and it’s not like we had any sort of extraordinary connection or anything. I liked her family pretty good though. Not that it matters. I still don’t understand how that happened or how I lasted there for a week. It was fun though.

Abigail is a big deal at our school. She grew up in the area and her family is way rich and she’s always playing one of the major roles in all of our school’s plays and musicals and all. I don’t have an inferiority complex and I have a more than healthy self-esteem I think, but I never got why she took an interest in me. Something about not being each other’s type is probably what made it seem unusual in my mind. She was blonde and attractive in a predictable way. She was many times annoying to be around, but I rarely got tired of her. I could never take her that serious.

Nothing ever really happened since that week. It was never awkward or anything and we’d hang out from time to time, but nothing regular or serious. I wouldn’t even care if I saw her with another guy. I don’t even know if it was ever really anything romantic. I mean I know it was, but it wasn’t too; if that makes sense. I know it’s an odd situation, I do know that.

So I saw her crying and I went up and sat next her on the stairs and asked what was wrong. She looked at me and started crying some more.

“Hey. Babs.” I called her that from time to time. “Hey, will you take a deep breath? Will you at least do that for me? Hey there, will you just look at me?” She looked up at me. I looked back at her and found it fascinating how I could tell that she didn’t feel the slightest bit ridiculous to be a college age woman crying her eyes out on a fire escape in a very loud costume. These were the types of things about Abigail that I found so interesting.

“Here, take some deep breaths with me.” So I started with these yoga-type in-breaths and eventually she started doing it too. She calmed a bit, so I said, “Alright, so tell me what happened Abby.”

“Oh, just everything,” she said.

“Everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, did something happen at the play tonight?”

“It was a disaster. It was an absolute disaster. I don’t even want to talk about it. I was an absolute disaster. I’m not even sure I’m cut out for this kind of stuff anymore.”

“Whoa, that seems a bit extreme. Will you just tell me what happened exactly?”

“Oh nothing, just Dr. Sher went on and on after the production about how amazing and how gifted and talented and how grand and how Maddy Dalton is like the effing second coming of Audrey Hepburn or something.” She really said effing too. I was glad she wasn’t looking at me because I was smiling pretty big and trying hard not to laugh. I tried to get serious again so I could actually help her or something.

“Who’s Maddy Dalton?”

“This freshman girl that went to high school at Kapner and is like the greatest thing we’ve ever had on our stage and we’re all apparently so lucky that she decided to grace our lowly school with her great talent. She doesn’t even have half as big of a role as me. It’s not that hard to nail down a bit part like that.”

“What’s Kapner?” I asked.

“Kapner School for the Performing Arts, have you really not heard of it?”

“Oh, yeah I guess I have,” I hadn’t, but it still seemed like the thing to say.

“You know, I heard she even plays acoustic guitar too.”


Colours– Grouplove



I did laugh out loud after she said that. Something about the way that Abby equated a freshman girl who probably wasn’t even hyped as much as Abby herself was as a freshmen, who got highly praised by the director after the show, and who plays acoustic guitar; as a insult to herself and a sign that she should get out of the acting business, was very funny to me. Especially the acoustic guitar part. Mainly the acoustic guitar part.

Abigail got pretty upset with me after I laughed so I got so serious. I said a bunch of cliché things that I would’ve hated to hear someone else say. They were the only things I thought she’d really understand though. I’m not very good at helping other people with their problems. They either seem kinda stupid or way too serious for me and I have no idea how to actually help them. I end up just saying a bunch of cliché things.

I talked for a while after I laughed. I gave a little speech about how baseball players are lucky to get a hit a third of the time and how basketball players practice shooting for hours just to make half of their shots. I told her that it’s not that big of a deal if she doesn’t give some drop-dead performance every time that the director gushes about backstage to everyone every time. It was a bit of a stretch and I think I heard that same speech about once a year growing up, but it did seem to help. I had the feeling that just about anything I’d say to her, as long as it was in a caring voice, would help.

I then started complimenting her like crazy and then started asking her questions about why she liked the theater so much. Then she went off for a bit and by the end of it, she felt like she had been called to the stage and like nothing short of a shelf full of Tony awards would be good enough for her.

I apologized for laughing and then she, who was still crying a little, starting laughing herself about it. She told me thanks and we kept talking like nothing had happened, like we had run into each other on campus. I’d say we stayed talking on that fire escape for at least another hour. When we left, the theater was locked and so she had to go back to her room in costume. I knew she wouldn’t care or feel weird about it at all. I walked her to her dorm and I felt weird about her wearing a costume.

As we were walking we passed Kayla and so I said hi and then I felt guilty. I felt guilty because I was pretty positive she would tell Lane she saw me. That thought made me feel guilty. It then made me annoyed because I felt like the only reason she’d tell Lane is because Abby was in a ridiculous costume walking with me. I went from annoyed to irritated thinking about Abby’s stupid dress and hair and make-up, and knowing that she was loving the fact that wearing it was probably giving her extra attention. I felt stupid for having been feeling good about myself for cheering up Abby. I felt even more stupid and guilty because I knew I really did feel good about myself for cheering up Abby.

I felt guilty too because I weirdly always felt kinda guilty after being with Abby. Guilty might not be the most fitting word, but I just felt off. I think it was because I didn’t usually talk like myself when I was with her. I talked like someone else. I said the type of things, usually pretty boring, conventional things that I felt she’d understand. It just seemed like the thing to do when I was with her. I really did think it was the only kinds of things she’d really understand and respond to. There was just always an awareness of it after I’d leave her though.

I don’t know, I just remember feeling particularly stupid and guilty right then. Part of me kept wanting to feel more guilty and part of me wanted to remind myself that I was just helping out a friend who was feeling down. Or at least that’s what I was calling it. I really don’t know what I was doing or what I would call it.

***

It had become an unofficial tradition that Lane and I would talk on the phone every night before we went to sleep. I was laying in my bed with the lights out when she called that night. I had pretty much been in that exact position since I got back from seeing Abby. The light from the cell phone jumped out and lit up my ceiling. I waited a while to answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey you.”

“What’s going on Laney?”

“Oh just finishing this powerpoint I have to have done for my 1 o’clock. You?”

“Just laying in bed.”

“Thrilling. I talked to Kayla and she said she ran into you tonight.”

“Yeah, we didn’t really get a chance to talk, but it had been a bit since I’d seen her so it was good to say hey.”

“Yeah, she said you were walking around campus with Abigail who was in like full-costume. Tell me there’s a story there.”

“Well the back story is not as exciting as you would think. She was just feeling a little down about theater stuff so I was trying to cheer her up. She ended up getting locked out of the theater and so she had to stay in her costume. Don’t worry she stayed in character though.”

“That’s funny. I didn’t realize you guys were that close or that you were friends with her at all.”

“Yeah. I mean I’ve known her for a couple years.”

“So is that where you were when you were busy earlier?”

“Yeah. It just seemed kinda weird to text that I was having a heart to heart with a Jane Austen character.”

“True true. Anyways, I should probably get back to my stuff. Thanks for chatting.”

“Sure. Are you doing alright Lane?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m sorry I can’t talk longer, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good Lane. Do you want to have lunch tomorrow then?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Alright well, night Lane.”

“Goodnight.”

I go back to this conversation from time to time in my head. This one, I do think about in specifics. I think about how every time I think about it, I somehow interpret every line of her’s differently. How it sometimes seems like she is totally normal and cool and how sometimes it’s like every word of hers is out of this eerie repressed rage. I think about how I kept using Lane’s name at the end of our talk to try and stake some claim to her or something. I didn’t think about if that was what I was doing at the time, but I think about that now. That conversation really did weird me out. None of the things that happened that night were that significant, but Lane was smart. She could figure stuff out.



DNA – Darwin Deez



Lane cancelled on lunch and so all we did was text that day. It wasn’t the most engaging back and forth either. I knew she was upset. It was understandable, but it seemed a little much.

I was laying on my bed again in the dark when she called that night. While I was laying there before she called, I actually thought about Abigail a lot. It wasn’t good stuff either. I thought about it a lot and I thought about all the times I’d spent with Abby. After going over it all, I just felt like I was scratch paper. It was like I was only there for her when she was down, to draw circles on to get the pen working again, or to just talk stuff through like she was just adding up some figures she couldn’t do in her head, or like I was there to doodle on when she was bored or wanted a distraction. It was like I was only there in the first place because I was within arm’s reach of her and had some free surface for marking.

Then I couldn’t stand her and I just wanted to be doing something with Lane. Something like dancing or going out into the country or putting cherries in her mouth with chopsticks; something kinda corny like that was always real fun with her. That stuff really was corny and so I don’t like to bring it up much, but I really did love it.

Right then, instead of anything fun and corny, I went for sad and corny and just laid in my bed and waited to hear my phone go off and to see the light it put on my dark room. When she did call, I again waited awhile before answering.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No small talk?”

“Are you mad Lane?”

“Mad isn’t the right word.”

“What’s the right word?”

“Ummm…I don’t know…confused, irritated, scared…I’m not sure really.”

“You seemed alright last time we talked so I’m not sure exactly what happened.”

“I just feel like you were kinda being shady about some stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…ok, I guess I should ask you about some stuff first before I start saying statements like that.”

“K.”

“I just heard that you and Abby had like a thing or something.”

“Uhuh and…”

“Well, did you guys?”

“I mean I don’t know what you’d call it, so I guess ‘thing’ fits. So yeah I guess.”

“Well, why didn’t you mention that little tidbit last night when we talked about you knowing her?”

“Honestly, that little tidbit really didn’t seem worth mentioning.”

“Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Would you mind mentioning it now?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well the fact that you’re getting weird about it makes it seem like it’s more of a thing than you’re letting on.”

“How am I getting weird about it?”

“Because you won’t just tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell Lane. It was a thing. What do you say about a thing? Abigail and I had a thing apparently. It was forever ago. I’m not even sure it was significant enough to qualify as a thing, but it’s not like I still have a thing for her. What else do you want?”

“Nothing. That’s exactly what I want to hear. I’m not trying to make this into a bigger issue than it is. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me what you just told me last night.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Are we good?”

“Do you understand why this upsets me?”

“Ummm…kinda.”

“Well then explain it to me.”

“I’m not stupid I know why. I know.”

“Well then it won’t be that big of a deal to explain it to me.”

“I know. You know. What’s the point of explaining?”

“Why won’t you just do it?”

“Why are you making this into such a big deal?”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously Lane.”

“It just seems really weird because you just totally glossed over what you were doing in your text.”

“We talked about that. I told you about it.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you just would have told me up front. I wouldn’t have cared that you were going to be spending time with another girl instead of me. I wouldn’t have cared that you were going to be alone with someone you’ve had some sort of romantic relationship with. I wouldn’t have cared. If you just would have let me know, I really wouldn’t have cared.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It just seems like both when you texted me and then when we talked about her last night, you were kinda trying to cover it up or something. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, then it wouldn’t have been worth the effort to try and cover it up.”

“You’re being insane right now.”

“No. Don’t even act like I’m just being a crazy girl about it. Seriously, most girls would have been so mad at you for hanging out with another girl alone and not telling them about it. You know I trust you and I felt like you wouldn’t do something like that to me, so it wasn’t a big deal at all. The thing is, I know you’re smart enough to know exactly what you did and I know you knew exactly what you were doing. It’s actually one of the things I like best about you is how conscious and sensitive to stuff like that you are…whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Alright?”

“You know you’re not even being you right now. You’re arguing like a typical guy. It makes me even more annoyed because I know you know you’re doing it too.”

“Please tell me what else I know.”

“I’m trying to give you an out here. Do you see that? I’m trying to give you a chance to redeem yourself for being a bit of a creep because I know that’s not you and I want you to show me that that’s not you.”

“I didn’t do anything with her.”

“How do I know that? How do I know that you didn’t want to do anything with her?”

“Because I didn’t and I’m telling the truth.”

“I believe you, I do, but that’s not the point you know. The point is that I care a lot about you, and I’m caring more and more the more I get to know you, but I want to know that you’re not going to hold anything back on me.”

“Even if I do, I can count on you to call me out and make it into some international incident.”

“Why are you being such a jerk about this? I’m giving you a chance to make this better and you’re like posturing or something. You know you’re not being yourself.”

“This is so stupid. I didn’t do anything. I don’t care. I really don’t care anymore.”



Fa Fa Fa – Sin Fang Bous



I knew I wasn’t being myself. I don’t feel like I wasn’t being myself in the way she meant though. I just felt so stupid and embarrassed and I just wanted her to drop it. I know it was stupid. I felt so foolish about it all. The bigger deal she made about it, the harder it was for me to admit to it. The more she pushed the madder and stupider I felt. She knew how embarrassed I was, right? How idiotic I felt? The way I knew exactly what she meant and what I did wrong? I really did know what she wanted me to say like it was lines in a play and I knew that I wanted to say them, but I didn’t. It’s weird too because if it would have been Abby, I probably would’ve said those words. I don’t understand the new rules we write for dealing with the people we care about the most.

I wished I could’ve explained to her that it wasn’t love or anything, it was just curiosity. That’s why I couldn’t help going to her. I was just curious every time she wanted to talk to me; what does she want, why me, why now? I don’t know why I was so curious or why I was always so desperate to find out whenever Abby called on me. I just found it fascinating that someone could take themselves that seriously or something I guess. I just feel like girls themselves would not understand that explanation. I don’t think they’d understand that it was just curiosity and not love. They’d never understand with Abby; not when everyone thinks she’s so beautiful, not when she’s such a big deal, not when something has happened before with us.

I could’ve at least tried to explain that though. That’s the thing. I could’ve at least tried.

Neither of us said anything after my last statement. We stayed silent on the phone for a good while. I thought about how in the light white noise of the phone I could hear the ocean. It was stupid, but it was what I was thinking.

***

The next day I wanted Lane more than ever. I felt more than ever for her. I feel asleep while we were silent on the phone. We stayed that way for awhile. I’m not sure how long the call stayed connected for. I don’t know if she hung up or tried to talk again or feel asleep herself. I just knew I felt like an idiot and I ended up doing something really stupid that day. Something really stupid and childish.

I texted this French girl who was an international student here. I had to do a group project with her one time. I met up with her. I did annoying things like I made her laugh by struggling through a few French phrases. I kissed her and stuff. She was cute and all, but everyone thought she was like ten times more attractive because she was French. I never do stuff like that. Then I went and played racquetball with Cassidy and told him all about what I had just done. I told him because I knew he’d probably tell other people, Kayla for sure, and she’d tell Lane. I wanted Lane to know.

I felt sort of panicky for some reason after that and so I went and hung out with Luke, Graham, and Grady. I figured it’d be good to be with my friends and all three were together at Luke and Graham’s place. They were just sitting around talking when I got there and so after a few minutes of small talk, I told them too what I had just done. That led to them having some questions and so I explained the rest of the story. They told me I was an idiot. I agreed and ended up leaving like fifteen minutes later.

Then I went and drove out to that clearing that I like. When I think about how I went there, I get annoyed at myself. I wasn’t really myself that day. I felt pretty miserable, but I was only thinking about me. I mean I thought about Lane too though, but I wasn’t thinking about her if that makes sense. I thought an awful lot of good things about her too. I thought up just about everything about her that I liked. The one thing I didn’t think about though, was how miserable she probably was. I’m sure she was doing pretty bad and I know she didn’t deserve to feel that way at all, but it wasn’t on my mind at the time. I was just feeling terrible and thinking about how I didn’t have cell phone service where I was.

I slept in my car that night. I set the alarm on my phone so that I’d be sure to get up so I could make it back to campus in time to work out with Grady. I have no idea why that seemed so important at the time. I don’t know why it seemed like sleeping in my car was the thing to do either.

That night in my car, I didn’t sleep all that much. It was pretty cold and it was pretty miserable in there. I would drift off for an hour or so without even noticing I had gone to sleep. Then I would wake up and just be so surprised at how much time had passed. Then I would spend the next fifteen minutes conscious of every second of consciousness. The next minute seemed like it’d never come and sleep seemed like it’d never come again either. Then I’d nod off and the cycle would repeat itself. I felt so horrible when I got up in the morning. I felt like how I felt every Monday morning in high school when I’d wake up after staying up too late for absolutely no reason Sunday night. My mom would be trying to get me out of bed and I would feel just disgustingly tired and even worse because I couldn’t get it off my mind that I wouldn’t really get to sleep till Saturday. It’s seems kinda dumb, but it really was such a devastating thought at the time.

That night wasn’t the low point though. Her birthday was the worst for me. It really was the worst. I didn’t get much done or do much of anything that day. Anyways, needless to say I never spoke to Lane again.
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