a breath of fresh air...
I'm hanging out with a new boy. He's not the typical boy for me. He's far from typical. I used to have a formula for boys that I want to date, and he's far from it (i.e. he skateboards, likes dave matthews band, and is not lacking in tattoos). Regardless, he's one of the best boys I've met in a long, long time and I'm happier than I've been in months. I had a class with him a few years ago, a lit class. I never talked to him, but I rememebered that every time he raised his hand I would pay attention-- what he had to say usually was a breath of fresh air. Smart as hell, cool as hell. I like talking to him, a lot. I don't know. I've found a good one.
Last night I was playing music with him at his house and I stepped out to go to a mini-party. It was across the street so I walked. I carried my water bottle with me and a notebook. Carrying a notebook is kind of a nervous habbit-- kind of like how some people start opening their phones in awkward situations. I start scribbling/drawing/writing when I'm uncomfortable. You don't have to make eye contact with people if you're looking at a book. So I walk into the living room and see a few people, drinking and dancing in the dark. They ask me, "what are you drinking," waiting to hear some kind of cool response like... i dunno... fucking gin and water. (I've got nothing). See, partying is losing [has lost?] its appeal for me. So I say hi to a few people and sit down on the couch. Lazarus, the cat, agrees with my sentiments and immediately hops on my lap. Animals are cool. On the coffeetable was a collection of Bukowski books. I pick up Sifting Through the Madness and start thumbing [sifting] through. Being a party pooper is okay with me. So I sit on the couch, sip my water, and start reading.
This boy comes up to me and sits on the couch. I close my eyes and sigh(but not audibly, really). Last weekend I went to a party in LR. This same guy tried so hard to holler. I dropped so many hints, and my god he was clueless. It made for an awkward night because I couldn't be mean-- he was friends with mine.
Boy: What are you reading?
Me: Bukowski.
Boy: Ohhh okay. Cool.... I think I read that before. ...Actually I think I read half of it and never finished it.
Me: (smiling) oh?
He told me he read half of 'it.' Hahahahaha. How does one read half of 'it?' He's written volumes and volumes of books, tons of spoken word. At this point I know he is for some reason lying to me. Trying to impress me maybe? But see, it's not even my book. I could have been thumbing through... I don't know... fucking Chbosky [the perks...] and he would have said the same.
Boy: I've made it my summer goal to read three books.
me: How's that going for you?
Boy: Alright. I'm on my second. The first one was some kind of horror story about....... (I unintentionally am distracted and miss this part).
Me: So what are you reading now?
Boy: Oh it's this new Tom Clancey novel...
Me: (smiling again) Cool.
I'm not making fun of him for reading Clancey (I am a square for the things I read/do/say/dance/write). I'm making fun of him for trying to impress me and failing miserabley. I tell him it's good that he's reading and I mean it.
My intentions were not to talk about the boy at the party. That was just something funny that happened. I intended to let you all know I'm happy. Everything is different, everything is illuminated. I didn't wait long before I went back across the street to see the boy I told you about earlier. I'm telling you, I've found something good.
I'd like to meet some more good people. But I'm definitely happy with the few that I love.
Last night I was playing music with him at his house and I stepped out to go to a mini-party. It was across the street so I walked. I carried my water bottle with me and a notebook. Carrying a notebook is kind of a nervous habbit-- kind of like how some people start opening their phones in awkward situations. I start scribbling/drawing/writing when I'm uncomfortable. You don't have to make eye contact with people if you're looking at a book. So I walk into the living room and see a few people, drinking and dancing in the dark. They ask me, "what are you drinking," waiting to hear some kind of cool response like... i dunno... fucking gin and water. (I've got nothing). See, partying is losing [has lost?] its appeal for me. So I say hi to a few people and sit down on the couch. Lazarus, the cat, agrees with my sentiments and immediately hops on my lap. Animals are cool. On the coffeetable was a collection of Bukowski books. I pick up Sifting Through the Madness and start thumbing [sifting] through. Being a party pooper is okay with me. So I sit on the couch, sip my water, and start reading.
This boy comes up to me and sits on the couch. I close my eyes and sigh(but not audibly, really). Last weekend I went to a party in LR. This same guy tried so hard to holler. I dropped so many hints, and my god he was clueless. It made for an awkward night because I couldn't be mean-- he was friends with mine.
Boy: What are you reading?
Me: Bukowski.
Boy: Ohhh okay. Cool.... I think I read that before. ...Actually I think I read half of it and never finished it.
Me: (smiling) oh?
He told me he read half of 'it.' Hahahahaha. How does one read half of 'it?' He's written volumes and volumes of books, tons of spoken word. At this point I know he is for some reason lying to me. Trying to impress me maybe? But see, it's not even my book. I could have been thumbing through... I don't know... fucking Chbosky [the perks...] and he would have said the same.
Boy: I've made it my summer goal to read three books.
me: How's that going for you?
Boy: Alright. I'm on my second. The first one was some kind of horror story about....... (I unintentionally am distracted and miss this part).
Me: So what are you reading now?
Boy: Oh it's this new Tom Clancey novel...
Me: (smiling again) Cool.
I'm not making fun of him for reading Clancey (I am a square for the things I read/do/say/dance/write). I'm making fun of him for trying to impress me and failing miserabley. I tell him it's good that he's reading and I mean it.
My intentions were not to talk about the boy at the party. That was just something funny that happened. I intended to let you all know I'm happy. Everything is different, everything is illuminated. I didn't wait long before I went back across the street to see the boy I told you about earlier. I'm telling you, I've found something good.
I'd like to meet some more good people. But I'm definitely happy with the few that I love.