ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"I just made love to your sweet memory / a thousand times in my head.\" - Weezer fifteen degrees to the right and I'm wearing black again a little banquet table with little cheeses and meats we're all shaking hands and we're too sad to eat some discuss the road grade and others the car some speak of who you were and some, who you are did you go towards that light? well, you won't be back again some folks are fidgety and others tell jokes one man makes pretty words and everybody chokes some say the light was green and others contend red some speak of a better place but I say "just dead" Teresa came in to see me at Borders tonight and it just made my fucking week. I wasn't wearing by Rollins name tag (I was wearing my back-up, Josh Groban nametag; yuck!) so she couldn't open with the wonderful script that I'd provided her with earlier. But, with adept skill and a winning smile, she adapted to the situation and asked for the Icon of Coil records. At that, I thrust my hand across the counter and said "I'm Eric..... is my face as red as my hat." She laughed, whereas I knew, could feel, that it was. Our meeting was awkward at first, neither of us really knowing what to say, what was expected of us. After all, hadn't we said it all? Hadn't everything been shared in these pages, in the countless e-mails, in the packed silences between? Here, in this world, we seem so witty, so sure of ourselves. Words come out, sounding great, sounding wonderful, sounded out in voices we've never heard. What might take planning, retyping, hours of concentration seems to be instantaneous and witty as all Hell. How do we feign that in reality? Our nervousness, our apprehension apparent in our flushed faces, turned down, turned away. What do we do? It actually went quite well. We talked freely after a little stuttering from each of us, and then, it was just as I thought it would be: we were old friends. Old friends with a newfound interest in each other. This our first "Together" experience. We were feeling each other out for flaws, appreciations that can't be typed, and translation to the real world. She passed with flying colors; exceeded, even. As far as I know, the jury's still out on me. I hugged her before she left. I had been watching her sitting across from me, sipping her Malibu Smoothie, talking; somewhat at ease, a nervous laugh escaping from her lips every now and then. As I watched her, I just wanted to reach out... touch her arm, her face, her side. She was real, wasn's she? Before we parted, I decided to do just that. I reached out with two arms and pulled her in to me. I don't know if it freaked her out or not. Judging from the pressure I felt from her hands on my back, I don't think so. I can't wait to see her again. After work, I went and had dinner with a co-worker who wanted to hear my brother's story. I told it, in its scripted form, for the eighteen-thousandth time. She shrugged and told me about how she took twelve sleeping pills in February after having a bad day at work. I wanted to stab her in her fucking face with a fucking fork. Luckily, I was eating a sandwich at the time and didn't have any silverware on me. People who want to die for stupid reasons should be killed. I hate that shit. We left the restaurant and she dropped me off at the Whistle Stop where I'd hoped to meet Makana and discuss the new Microcosm Project but he'd already left. I checked all of his haunts to no avail. Surprise. I took a bus back to Normal Heights (thank goodness it runs this late) and wrote this. This day started out okay, got REALLY FUCKING GREAT and then ended badly. What a charmed life I lead! 2:10 a.m. - 2003-12-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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