| A Pretty Memory 2005-11-15 03:35:27 ET |
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It's always interesting to revisit a memory while it's still warm in your mind, to get it down on paper and hold it there...Best to catch it now, while it's alive and vibrant, and tie it to yourself like pinning a butterfly to a parchment-board. Otherwise they tend to fade and warp, and with one like this, that would be a damn shame.
It was 10pm, and Claw and I wanted to get out of the house, intending to go see a movie...well, at the least, pretending we intended to go see a movie. As we were leaving his parents', it began to rain, the sort of halting pitter-patter that lets you know a real downpour is on its way, building up steam, waiting for you to be on the road and vulnerable.
It held in the biggest bursts as we drove along the dark backroads, letting out tiny spurts that served as punctuation for our chat and the Dragonforce CD playing on the car stereo. The drone of the camaro's motor is always comforting to me, but tonight it was amplified and echoed by the raindrops, creating a tiny sanctuary within the cabin of the car. Leaning back into the seat, I stared at the sky and the horizon, which is always a novelty for me...I'm so used to the canyons of Chicago, the neon haze, that seeing the mercury lights of the depots in the area is fun. They play an entirely different song in my head than those I see every day, a tune I've come to associate with the peace of open spaces.
Sometimes they call to me, reminding me of my desire to escape the concrete for good.
When we reached the movie theater and got ready to get out of the car, the clouds decided they'd had enough time to build a really good show, and let loose. In the tiny heaven of the camaro, we could look out the windows and watch as the parking lot, the bushes, and even the lights disappeared. It seemed at the time as if the entire world were being washed down and cleansed, until we could no longer see the other cars...there was only the sound, and the soft gray curtain of rain, surrounding us completely.
In that moment, we two were the only ones alive. There was thunder, and light, a display of massive proportions, that electrified me. I feel the most at home in rainstorms--it's as if I am finally reconnecting with all the things that made me. That's probably why I had to get out, breaking the silly rapport we had going inside the car.
Well, that and the leaves on the back windshield, which I fell in love with and had to rescue from the water. I hopped out and pulled them to me, retreating back inside the car with a massive downpour at my back, laughing like a little kid...Claw looked at me, and he had the most beatific smile on his face, and I knew I had to go out again, to pull him with me into the rain.
"Should we?"
He grinned, with the best little-boy grin I've ever seen on him, and we darted out of the car, into the wet and the night and the stars, and we laughed, and we embraced, and we exchanged rain-soaked kisses. When we were both too cold, and too wet, we hid in the camaro again, shivering and chatting as he started the car up to head off in search of warm drinks.
Before we backed out, he looked at me and smiled, his wet hair hanging limp against his cheeks like a cemetary angel.
"You are so goddamn beautiful...I love you so fucking much, Eleanor Murray."
And you know what? In that moment...I was.
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| Why I hate My Tongue (a.k.a. Oh Dear God We Ate It) 2005-11-15 03:32:18 ET |
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So yesterday was the day of "holy fuck i can still taste it make it stop" foodstuffs. We managed to pull off not one, not two, but three disgusting items of 'nourishment' at the gathering for the baby's birthday last night, all of which resulted in lots of screaming, convulsing over how bad it tasted, and then trying to get other people to try it in an attempt to spread the suffering around a bit, since misery loves company and it's much funnier to watch someone ELSE choke on the things you've just eaten than it is to do so yourself.
Item 1: An energy drink of unknown origins, purchased at Walgreens. It's tall, has a green can, and looked like a beer. It's also apparently half energy drink and half sports drink, which resulted in whole disgust by all four members of the party when we passed it around the car on the way home. This thing tasted like someone had pissed in Kool-Aid, tossed a ginseng root in it, and blended, I kid you not. Accompanied by a sugar-free Bawls energy drink on my side, it was possibly the second worst thing I have ever done to my taste buds short of trying the grasshoppers, which is a story for another time. So yes. Don't drink $2.50 sportsenergy crap in green cans. Ever.
Item 2: Expired (we think) Amp energy drink, purchased at the Jewel on Howard Street. As someone who didn't believe that anything with that much caffeine in it could do anything short of ferment and explode, this one came as a shock, and was also tasted while driving. Fortunately, I did not crash the car, but it was rough going for a minute there, believe me. This was one of Claw's choices, and it was just...ugh. It was seriously the result of a gangbang between Red Bull, Mountain Dew, and paint thinner, and that's the nice description. I can't post the other one, it's too raunchy even for me.
Item 3: Saved the best--at least story-wise--for last. So, the can of Spotted Dick that we bought and that I raved over? We ate it, or at least as much as we could stomach, and it was...oh God, it was the worst thing EVER. Grasshoppers were better, Green ener-sports drink was better, grasshoppers in the goddamn ener-sports drink would have been better. It opened, and the scent assailed us in WAVES. Brave souls that we are, we still popped it in the microwave, nuked it for the requisite two minutes, and then stared at it for the two-minute cooling down period, while trying to plan our attack. Having settled on whipped cream, milk, sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla as our saving grace toppings, we took the top bowl off the container.
Dear, sweet zombie jesus, the smell. I have never hated synaesthesia so much as I did at the moment we took that damn second bowl off. After giving it a try bare-bones, for which I think Claw and I get at least accolades, if not laurels, we piled on sugar, cinnamon, whipped cream, and milk until there were more condiments than there was pudding, which was a good thing, because when I accidentally got through the outer strata and into the center of the beast, I had to swallow, bounce, and chug so much of my Sobe 'No Fear' that I almost drowned. Poor Claw, on the other hand, was trying to be stoic, without much success...sentences of the night: "you know, actually, this isn't that bad...I thought it would be much worse...[get a bite of inner strata]...Oh. There it is. [choke. die.]"
The Spotted Dick incident ended with a long-winded rant about the Irish, and their love of bad food, beer made in whiskey barrels, and sheep-fucking (I'm Scottish, we do the same damn things, just without the potatoes. I can say this stuff.), and Claw nearly choking on what was left of the horrible mess as a very tired, very hyperactive Leeloo went into Rant Mode.
I don't remember 90 percent of what I said, which is probably for the best.
On the other hand, I can still taste the damn pudding, which is definitely not.
I'm thinking of having my tongue removed. T_T
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| We're Not Gonna Bother With the Background 2005-11-11 23:18:41 ET |
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Suffice it to say, i'm in a relationship in which I am quite in love, and where the person is very similar to myself. I'm, therefore, an idiot for what I am about to confess:
i'm sitting here in a room with a boy i love curled up on my bed. i managed to get people the Xmas gifts i'd been gunning for. i'm happy and doing okay in school, i have friends i love slacking off with and some new friends to be a board-gamer geek with, even if it means more slacking off.
and yet.
and yet, i am sitting by my artboard, cutting more ribbons into my stupid arm by candlelight because my stomach is insanely sick and i've hit the three a.m. wall,and rather than going to sleep like a normal person, i am also an insomniac who is stuck being awake.
I want to talk to the lanky-emo-boy about the way i'm feeling, but he's sleepy and has work in a few hours, and what the hell kind of girlfriend would i be if i woke him up to tell him i'm depressed?
Yuck. not the kind of girlfriend i want to be.
Also: I am not being dramatic with my inconsistent lack of capitalization, my goddamn shift key is on the fritz again, and of course it's the side i compulsively use.
'got another luxury...problem...'
Yeah, let's whine. I'm so veddy veddy angsty-goth.
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