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[09 Sep 2003|12:55pm] |
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"Werewolves of London" - Warren Zevon |
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So Warren Zevon died yesterday and like, I'm depressed.
It was a real letdown after the past couple of days where everything seemed to be going right. I don't know why I got so down about it, it's not like I knew the guy or anything. It's just that ... I dunno. His music said a lot to me.
He was twisted. I admire that in a person.
I sort of stayed in bed after I heard the news, just chilling out to the gloom and pulling the blanket over my head, not really sleeping.
Dad tried to get me up, then Mom, but I wasn't moving. I just turned up my headphones and pretended I was in a cave on the moon. I used to do that a lot, in fact I was just remembering how much I liked it when I felt the bed dip down.
The cover was pulled off and it was "R". He clicked the Walkman off and looked at me for a long time without saying anything. He wouldn't let me pull the blanket back, so I yanked the headphones off and said "What??" all bitchy-like.
He kinda smirks and sings (in the worst voice since Yoko Ono): "Arrooooo ... Werewolves of London. Arrrroooooo."
To think, I'd sworn that nothing would have made me laugh or get up out of bed yesterday.
I was wrong. I did get up and things were okay again.
Thanks, "R." I think I love you more than you'll ever know. I mean that in every way.
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[07 Sep 2003|08:22am] |
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some Beach Boy song my father's listening to |
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The worst part about having a maid?
When she catches you washing your own sheets in the morning, she knows exactly what's happened.
"R" was in really good mood yesterday and told my Dad he wanted to try surfing sometime. He'd been watching the "History of Surfing" on cable and it suddenly looked cool.
My Dad looked so happy, I thought he was going to plotz. Ten seconds later, he pulled three surfboards out of the garage, fired up the SUV right there and then and of course, I ended up getting dragged along. I didn't mind going as much as I would have if "R" wasn't there and we headed out to this place my Dad says has beginner surf.
Beginner surf that kicked my ass to the Atlantic and back, that is.
"R" did a little bit better but he wiped out almost as often as I did. After the tenth time of near-drowning, I started to bitch and "R" said: "You're the skateboard guy. This should be easy for you."
Something went *ping* in my brain, and yeah, he was right. Believe it or not, I got on the board again, thought of the ocean like a skateboard park (a skateboard park with a zillion gallons of salt water and sharks) and ...
I did it.
I couldn't believe it. It was like flying over the water, and for the first time, I could see why my Dad loves it so much. I was so stoked and "R" was cheering me on, even though he was still falling over on every wave.
The look on my Dad's face was something else.
All in all, it was a pretty cool time. We stopped off for lunch and went into my favorite novelty t-shirt shop on the way home. Dad got us a couple of surfer shirts to commemorate the occasion. I got some vintage shirts, "R" another wifebeater (he cracks me up with those) and I also did something a little weird.
"MC" has been seriously depressed the past week. I see her coming and going on a daily basis, looking like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. Since I'm intimately familiar with feelings of overwhelming gloom and remembered that a kind gesture from anyone at the time would have helped, I figured it couldn't hurt if I got her a little something to make her smile.
I talked it over with "R" and he was totally down with it. So later that night, when "MC" was headed out to her car, I flagged her down and gave her the gift: a pink t-shirt that said: "I Hate Barbie. That Bitch Has EVERYTHING."
At first she gave me a really weird look, but she read it again and started to laugh. She even pulled it on over her designer tank top right there, waving when she left. I think she was smiling.
It was pretty cool.
As for today, "R" wants to check out some new games this morning and Mom cooked breakfast. I love Mom's breakfasts.
Dudes, I'm feeling pretty cowabunga right about now.
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[05 Sep 2003|12:46pm] |
Dudes ... a daily Batman strip on AOL?
What's next? Little Orphan Robin? And a villain named "Sin Tzu"? No way! That sounds like one of those yappy little dogs my neighbors' wives carry around in their handbags. Ever see those?
If you do, don't pet them. They bite, man. First hand experience here.
Talked with "R" this morning about the incident from the other night. Remember? The "really bad scene" one? I won't give the details -- Dad gave me the lawyer lecture yesterday about keeping my mouth shut no matter what -- except to say that someone got hurt. This someone, who I'll refer to as Jackass (yeah, subtle, I know) isn't a good guy. In fact, he's a complete dick but still, didn't deserve to get hurt like that.
He's getting better. They're keeping him for observation and I mentioned to "R" that one inch another way it could have been anyone who got hurt. And then my guilt complex would have reached Everest proportions versus the mere Mount St. Helen's it's hovering at now.
Then I said, "Except if it was me who got it. Then I could live with it."
Wow. That was a bad move. It seemed to piss him off. Mightily.
I got The Scowl and a whole bowl of cereal shoved at me all the way across the kitchen table, covering my favorite Judas Priest shirt with soggy Fruity Pebbles. (Yeah, yeah ... joke all you want, dudes. I love that shirt.)
He stormed away on his bike and I tried to give chase, but when "R" wants to disappear, he disappears. I got scared after a couple of hours, but he eventually came back. I tried to crack a joke when he came in, but he wasn't in the mood for jokes.
Instead, he got right in my face. "Don't say shit like that. Ever."
Oooooo-kay, I thought, but just nodded. "I was just kidding, man."
"I don't care." More scowling. "If you'd gotten hurt, what would have happened to me? Did you think about that?"
"Mom and Dad wouldn't have thrown you ..."
He shut me up with a wave of his hand. "That wouldn't have mattered, because I'd have ended up in jail, this time for good. Because if he'd done that to you, I'd have killed that son-of-a-bitch."
He stormed out again, this time to the pool house and shut the door with a bang. The shades were drawn, meaning he didn't want to be bothered, so I didn't. Just stood there in the kitchen for what seemed like hours with my mouth hanging open.
Everything went smoothly during dinner, but he was still irritated. I didn't push it, I gave him some space, which he seemed to appreciate. By eight o'clock we were watching The Matrix on DVD, looking for the easter eggs and things were cool again.
I wonder if he was just being dramatic, but "R" doesn't have the penchant for drama, not like some other people I know. He wants things to be quiet, they just never are where he's concerned. Another thing I'm going to have to think about -- if the fact that he just told me he'd kill for me isn't going to keep my brain busy for the next century or two.
Speaking of drama, "MC"'s parents are having some sort of major, major, major blowout that never seems to end. I can hear it from behind the poolhouse, especially on humid nights. Wonder if "R" can, and if it upsets him. I'm sure he can and it must, since he has this thing for MC, who, I'll say it again, is a nice girl. Really, she is.
At least she deserves better than this. Even if it looks like she's going to chose Jackass over "R", which is about as comprehensible as a daily Batman strip on AOL.
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[04 Sep 2003|12:57pm] |
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Whoa, people have friended me. That's a new one. Guess the cyberworld is more forgiving than the real one. Anyway, hey there, and ...
Here's the long story, made short.
One day, my Dad, do-gooder extraordinaire, brings home one of his juvie cases. Mom freaked, a few messed up things happened, but now everything's cool and this guy is with us, for good.
Which seemed really great in the beginning. He's got a home, I've got someone to hang with and everybody's happy.
Mostly.
Until I started noticing things about him that I never thought about before. Not about any guy, anyway. One of his many interesting traits is that he's incredibly good-looking, not to mention smart, thoughtful and beneath the moody scowl, really, really kindhearted. He weighs the situations he's in, he thinks a lot and tries to make no sudden moves, at least not until he's stuck in the middle of yet another brawl his non-girlfriend Skeletor has dragged him into.
(Okay, I shouldn't call her that. MC is nice, if in need of a few thousand milkshakes. I'll think up a better nickname for her later.)
He could also totally kick the ass of any of the jock jerks in the neighborhood which is hot. Very hot.
It's even cool when we fight. I never had someone I could fight with and not be afraid they'd ditch me for someone else (except for the gun toting psychopath incident, see below), someone who didn't think I was a cold sore on the mouth of humanity, someone who made me feel like a person who had something worthwhile to offer, who was important, at least to him.
Which is all fine and good, except that things have gone from "yo, bro!" to me being unable to look him in the eye without thinking he's going to figure it out, this whole me wanting him thing. Wanting him in the, you know, wanting him way.
If that happens, I'm pretty sure the world's going to come crashing down around us.
So I can't let that happen. I have to keep this cool, just keep it at a distance, as much as I can.
Dude, this worshipping from afar thing? I got that down. Years of practice with this girl I don't know if I want to talk about, not yet, anyway. I still think she's hot, but she's someone who's a lot more attractive from the long end of a telescope. Not that I'm a big perv with a telescope. (Just binoculars and that was only once. Okay?)
The problem is the "afar" part. Because this is more like worshipping in close quarters and sometimes, I can't control it. I controlled the girl-obsessing thing for years, that was easy. In retrospect, I'm beginning to figure out why it was so easy, but this ...
Look, I'm terrified of freaking him out. He's had enough freaking out in his life, he doesn't need any more.
I've already acted like a two-year old about him getting a job, letting my inner-clingy-boyfriend hang out all over him when he had to go to work and he couldn't get away from me fast enough, making friends with the local gun toting psychopath, which I tried to horn in on, being the huge dick that I can be sometimes. That scene ended really badly, mostly because we got our wires crossed, but now, we've ... I've got another chance this time to make it work on a level that's good for him.
And for us, together. He needs someone who's got his back. I know he's got mine. I don't want to mess that up. Not even with what I think is love.
It's weird. His happiness is more important than my horniness.
Yeah. That is really weird.
Okay, I've got to go until tomorrow. Dad wants me to "get off the stupid machine and back into the sun."
Right. Like I spent so much time in the sun before. They didn't call me "Powder" at school for nothing, you know.
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| Yeah ... |
[04 Sep 2003|09:18am] |
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mood |
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"Excitable Boy", Warren Zevon |
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So, I get this journal on the advice of some site and here I am. Talking about all the stuff that I can't discuss with my parents (more about them later), with my peers (as little about them as possible, ever) and especially with the person who's inspired me to go this route into complete cyber-exhibitionism, all in the name of "working my feelings out through sharing."
(By the way, thanks, Dad. I'm glad that anytime I need a bit of wordy psychobabble, you'll always be there for me.)
I'm hoping this will be the perfect place to talk about feelings that would be ... not acceptable ... to polite society. Not that the society I'm stuck in is particularly polite. Just below the surface it's a seething caldron of pettiness with all the depth of a FOX reality show, but there are some things that are a no-go.
Like being ass over head in love with the guy your parents took in last month and not having a clue how to deal and ...
Okay. That just came out. Great. I'm already puking my neurosis all over the Internet. Must be a new world's record.
Look, maybe it's not love. If there's anything I don't have a clue about, it's love. Ask me the name of the Green Arrow's girlfriends or the largest shark tooth ever found and I'm your man.
Ask me why my brain turns to mush around him, why I feel sick to my stomach every minute I'm not with him, why I'll even go out and try to hook him up with the chick he's after -- I have no answers for you. Or me.
That's why I'm here. To work this out without scaring him away. Because he's scared, for a lot of reasons, and I'm scared too, for different ones.
Ooops. Mom yellage in the distance. Shit. How can she find the stuff I break that fast? Maybe it's some sort of radar she won't talk about? Maybe she's a ninja ...
I gotta go. More later.
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