[Playing video games in my living room and I can't concentrate anymore; driving a car through a wire is too complex and it feels important when I know that it's not. We turn it off and go into my room to listen to music- neither of us talk, we watch the walls undulate and the curtains breathe. My roommate informs us that she's going out to return a movie, and we decide to go with her.
Outside. It's five o'clock in the afternoon and it's so fucking bright. A constant two o'clock, it seems, with thick white clouds and mild spatterings of rain. We leave her because downtown isn't anywhere that I want to be at this moment, and walk towards the high school near our house. I'm laughing and I can't stop laughing and the best part is, I don't need to stop laughing. I have nothing that could get in the way of my laughing.
We're behind the school, looking at the graffiti, standing in a spot between pristine cleanliness and degeneracy- a concrete divider stands between them. A man jogging on a track on one side of the wall, cigarette butts and needles and ghouls on the other. We opt for the latter and walk back to my house, with the sky just as bright as before.
Leave again- we're always leaving, we're always running- and head over to his house so that he can get a sweater, I believe. The sky is blurring in and out of focus and I can't make sense of where I am with regards to where he is. The streets feel achingly long and archaic; it feels as though I should be walking to school on the first day of classes in the fall. Problems with this include me being three hundred kilometres away from the school I would be going to, and of course, the fact that I'm more high than ten kites tied together in a row.
Head up the maze of stairs to his front door.
He puts on another layer of clothing and we go back outside. In front of his house, there are a few police cars and vans, some bicycles, and a sailor. The sailor doesn't fit, but we are in no condition to stick around and see how it plays out.
Take the long route back to my house. A long route, that is. I'm not sure which one it was, but we walked past my house and to the playground. Tried to light a cigarette but simply couldn't figure out the mechanics of my lighter. Saw the future in a twelve-year-old girl while waiting for daylight to fade, persistent fucker that it is.
Inside my house. We're on my bed listening to music again. His hipster hair is lightly touching my leg and I'm conscious of it, but I'm also conscious of the fact that my relationship with him will never be sexual. I'm pleased about this, because at the time, I feel that it proves that platonic relationships actually can exist. I'm thinking about how I could disappear and not be noticed, and that I wonder how long it would take before someone noticed that I was gone. I'm wishing daylight would leave quietly to allow darkness to have its turn. I'm forming half-thoughts in my brain, but none of them stay around long enough for me to come to any conclusions on them. There are no conclusions. The illusion of conclusion.
I turn into a laughing, babbling idiot and neither of us can stop laughing. Everything we say is funny and littered with so many layers of meaning.
Outside again. We're sitting at another park near my house, smoking cloves and talking about the word, "Word". Three hippies come up to us and ask, "Are you here for the potluck?"
We're high as fuck, and I say, "Um, we can be here for a potluck.. but we didn't know one was going on.."
"So you're not the potluck?"
"No, we're not the potluck."
Well, as I am definitely a human being and not a potluck, that just blows my fucking mind.
They leave, we continue smoking and chuckling and being confused over the interaction that just happened.
Darkness finally falls. We're cold and head back to my place just in time for Arrested Development, which we watch with my sober roommate.]
This wasn't what I was intending to write about, but it's what came out, so I'll let it be.
Other than that mushroom experience yesterday, I've been working a lot, being invited out for beer by cute boys and taking them up on their offers, finishing the last of my schoolwork before exams, and trying to sleep sometime in between.
It's a good life, you know, even if I'm a complete trainwreck.
Outside. It's five o'clock in the afternoon and it's so fucking bright. A constant two o'clock, it seems, with thick white clouds and mild spatterings of rain. We leave her because downtown isn't anywhere that I want to be at this moment, and walk towards the high school near our house. I'm laughing and I can't stop laughing and the best part is, I don't need to stop laughing. I have nothing that could get in the way of my laughing.
We're behind the school, looking at the graffiti, standing in a spot between pristine cleanliness and degeneracy- a concrete divider stands between them. A man jogging on a track on one side of the wall, cigarette butts and needles and ghouls on the other. We opt for the latter and walk back to my house, with the sky just as bright as before.
Leave again- we're always leaving, we're always running- and head over to his house so that he can get a sweater, I believe. The sky is blurring in and out of focus and I can't make sense of where I am with regards to where he is. The streets feel achingly long and archaic; it feels as though I should be walking to school on the first day of classes in the fall. Problems with this include me being three hundred kilometres away from the school I would be going to, and of course, the fact that I'm more high than ten kites tied together in a row.
Head up the maze of stairs to his front door.
He puts on another layer of clothing and we go back outside. In front of his house, there are a few police cars and vans, some bicycles, and a sailor. The sailor doesn't fit, but we are in no condition to stick around and see how it plays out.
Take the long route back to my house. A long route, that is. I'm not sure which one it was, but we walked past my house and to the playground. Tried to light a cigarette but simply couldn't figure out the mechanics of my lighter. Saw the future in a twelve-year-old girl while waiting for daylight to fade, persistent fucker that it is.
Inside my house. We're on my bed listening to music again. His hipster hair is lightly touching my leg and I'm conscious of it, but I'm also conscious of the fact that my relationship with him will never be sexual. I'm pleased about this, because at the time, I feel that it proves that platonic relationships actually can exist. I'm thinking about how I could disappear and not be noticed, and that I wonder how long it would take before someone noticed that I was gone. I'm wishing daylight would leave quietly to allow darkness to have its turn. I'm forming half-thoughts in my brain, but none of them stay around long enough for me to come to any conclusions on them. There are no conclusions. The illusion of conclusion.
I turn into a laughing, babbling idiot and neither of us can stop laughing. Everything we say is funny and littered with so many layers of meaning.
Outside again. We're sitting at another park near my house, smoking cloves and talking about the word, "Word". Three hippies come up to us and ask, "Are you here for the potluck?"
We're high as fuck, and I say, "Um, we can be here for a potluck.. but we didn't know one was going on.."
"So you're not the potluck?"
"No, we're not the potluck."
Well, as I am definitely a human being and not a potluck, that just blows my fucking mind.
They leave, we continue smoking and chuckling and being confused over the interaction that just happened.
Darkness finally falls. We're cold and head back to my place just in time for Arrested Development, which we watch with my sober roommate.]
This wasn't what I was intending to write about, but it's what came out, so I'll let it be.
Other than that mushroom experience yesterday, I've been working a lot, being invited out for beer by cute boys and taking them up on their offers, finishing the last of my schoolwork before exams, and trying to sleep sometime in between.
It's a good life, you know, even if I'm a complete trainwreck.
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
troglodyte:
I'm no potluck, I'm a muthafuckin' buffet.
dholokov:
well, superflea left the first comment so he is the most important Canadian.