Saturday, August 25. 2007
Hey, can you see them? Out on the porch, they don’t stay. I see them, round the front way, yeah, and I know and I know, I don’t want to stay. At all. I don’t want to stay… I never knew whether I was the boxer or the bag.
I’m proud of myself, and the things that I have done
So proud of myself and the loner I’ve become
Wasn’t a vital part of the plan to get the fuck out of here to NOT get too attached to anything? That only makes it so much harder to leave… Or educes the symptom of “I’ll stay here for you, I’ll make it work somehow” which is, as we all know here at the Dragon, nothing but verbal diarrhoea, even if the signs don’t present the usual way. It looks sweet, but it’s pure shit coming out of your mouth.
Even if I mean it, even if I want to say it, those words so sweet, words that my mouth was made to say, words that get me into more trouble than any other. Here I stand, the same old picture, new magazine. It feels like there’s tiny bear traps all over my keyboard, I have to negotiate a maze of pipes and wires to hit each letter; turn to page 46 for your centrefold! Looking to the bleakest possible future, but it might just be one where I’m not alone for once.
Just come inside for a while, we can watch a movie or something, there’s no-one else home right now. I can see something in her eyes. I’ll just tell her I’m not hungry, because I can’t eat when she’s around. This means I’m gone and what yesterday sounded like such a good plan, oh how I love a decent plan, is now just another catch-22 and a gun with more bullets in the chamber than blanks. Burn down something beautiful. I almost wish there were no blanks in there, just bullets of certainty. Just come inside, it’s so much fun just hanging out. I almost forgot what it’s like to watch a movie with someone else around.
I know there’s no answer here. Just her, her eyes, her voice. I knew them years ago and I wanted them years ago, but the scene never revolved around so the blocking put us next to each other. I spent most of the time she was around drawing on the desk. Then running home to someone else. So what’s a guy to do? I stuck with what I had. It’s hard to say ‘I do’ when I don’t. I went back to where I lived, pretended to read for a while and then went to her room. Another her, past her – and what I might have been thinking stayed in the book, stayed at school, stayed somewhere else.
Later, I told a friend about her, and how if things had been different, I’d have wanted her. At the time I never thought about ever actually seeing her again. Those days I really didn’t think too far ahead.
But now here she is and here I am. Emotionally, I’m right in place. I have my shit nailed down. It’s a few other critical failures in my life that stop me from saying anything. Thanks for the ride, you want to come in? I think I have some food, we can put a movie on. I always thought you were beautiful. And it’s not the leaving, it’s so much else. It’s not even me this time, it’s so much else.
What’s to lose? I fucking hate that question. I’ve been asked this cliché on the phone in late night calls from close friends. Oh crap, she’s calling on my other phone. Gotta go. Good luck man. Defend and never find out, live in this extended state of semi-agony. Or play the game and set up a massive fall down the bottom of this hill I know we can climb together, I just know we can make it. When’s next time going to be? (It’s always fun.) Two week’s time? OK, see you then. (I wish it were sooner.) I never could have had you before but I want you now, I always liked you.
See you later.