The Hills Have Eyes
To describe how I feel right now would be rather difficult. Normally when I just come back from an evening out with my friends, I am fatigued yet pleased. I can sleep easily, and for a little while, there are no worries. Today however, guilt plagues me and a frightening sense of disassociation in my inner-circle is on the rise. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but ever since speaking with Clay this morning I have been biting my knuckles in fear of his motives. You see, the guys and I had arranged to see The Hills Have Eyes together this weekend. That was the plan until a few hours before our departure when Clay decided he wasn’t going to join us on our group endeavor. Spite poisoned his words.
Neither Nick nor I could figure out exactly what Clay was trying to prove, but we didn’t dare argue against his choice to avoid us. Clay is our dinh and he does what he wants. Like Nick said, we could conclude that the problem is only his resentment to Jim - I wouldn’t go so far as to call it jealousy, yet that is possibly what it is - but we best not make such assumptions. Today wasn’t a good day for laser tag; why does that make Jim the enemy? Or Nick, perhaps? I will not get into that issue. What is true is that Clay was upset with us, and instead of making amends, he stayed away. Nobody could persuade him to do otherwise. The tet would have to suffice without a leader this day.
I swallowed all remorse upon leaving the house with my dad, hoping Zac would be prepared and that we could still have a good time. My mind was at ease as soon as I saw him sitting at his computer in his corduroy flares. We had time to listen to a bit of Led Zeppelin, Yes, and Modest Mouse, and discuss King Crimson’s use of percussion on Lark’s Tongues in Aspic. Ah, what a relief to see Zac in good spirits and free of illness, tapping his fingers on the glass table during “Siberian Khatru”. Soon we were in the back of Val’s mini van with me da’ at the wheel. Jacob was along for the ride this time, not in my favor. He bothered us to no end, resorting to kicking his sandals at us when he ran out of insulting comments.
After meeting up with Nick, Jim, and Maryann, and buying our tickets, we hung around Sam Goody for nearly 20 minutes. We all just goofed off, except of course for Zac who stressed over what CD to buy. He had been unsettled by the store’s lack of Jimi Hendrix and ended up purchasing Scabdates, the Mars Volta’s live album, as his alternative. Jacob continued to follow us around, despite my shooing, but he harassed us no longer (thank God!). After that bit of silliness, it was time to get seated in the theatre. But there were some complications. We were really lucky that my dad stuck around, because The Hills Have Eyes would have been impossible to sneak into. Unlike during the Hostel showings, they cared to guard the doors.
It was good to be legit for once, although it was somewhat embarrassing when they refused to let us through until Da’ came to the rescue. We still felt like kings sitting in up in the back, ready to be delivered a gore fest on the silver screen. Nick was especially thrilled as soon as the commercials ended and footage of nuclear explosions -- with a couple mutants mixed in - played to country music began. The film started off lame and typical, full of “cheap scares” and the like. But our groans ceased an hour into it, when it suddenly became intense and gruesome. Obnoxiously cheering, clapping, and cackling: We were eating it up.
As soon as the movie ended, so did our occasion. Jim, Nick, and Maryann were in Mrs. Milano’s buggy in a flash...never any time to stick around. It was only 6:00, so Zac and I felt weird going straight home. Since when do we depart at daylight? To fill in some time, we stopped to get some eats on the way, listened to more of my dad’s car-azy stories. Zac seemed pleased with how the day went. Usually he would have chilled out at my house afterward, but he had already come around yesterday. Plus, he was plenty tired by then. Next weekend should be more eventful, or at least more gratifying. Maybe by then the guilt will wash away.
Neither Nick nor I could figure out exactly what Clay was trying to prove, but we didn’t dare argue against his choice to avoid us. Clay is our dinh and he does what he wants. Like Nick said, we could conclude that the problem is only his resentment to Jim - I wouldn’t go so far as to call it jealousy, yet that is possibly what it is - but we best not make such assumptions. Today wasn’t a good day for laser tag; why does that make Jim the enemy? Or Nick, perhaps? I will not get into that issue. What is true is that Clay was upset with us, and instead of making amends, he stayed away. Nobody could persuade him to do otherwise. The tet would have to suffice without a leader this day.
I swallowed all remorse upon leaving the house with my dad, hoping Zac would be prepared and that we could still have a good time. My mind was at ease as soon as I saw him sitting at his computer in his corduroy flares. We had time to listen to a bit of Led Zeppelin, Yes, and Modest Mouse, and discuss King Crimson’s use of percussion on Lark’s Tongues in Aspic. Ah, what a relief to see Zac in good spirits and free of illness, tapping his fingers on the glass table during “Siberian Khatru”. Soon we were in the back of Val’s mini van with me da’ at the wheel. Jacob was along for the ride this time, not in my favor. He bothered us to no end, resorting to kicking his sandals at us when he ran out of insulting comments.
After meeting up with Nick, Jim, and Maryann, and buying our tickets, we hung around Sam Goody for nearly 20 minutes. We all just goofed off, except of course for Zac who stressed over what CD to buy. He had been unsettled by the store’s lack of Jimi Hendrix and ended up purchasing Scabdates, the Mars Volta’s live album, as his alternative. Jacob continued to follow us around, despite my shooing, but he harassed us no longer (thank God!). After that bit of silliness, it was time to get seated in the theatre. But there were some complications. We were really lucky that my dad stuck around, because The Hills Have Eyes would have been impossible to sneak into. Unlike during the Hostel showings, they cared to guard the doors.
It was good to be legit for once, although it was somewhat embarrassing when they refused to let us through until Da’ came to the rescue. We still felt like kings sitting in up in the back, ready to be delivered a gore fest on the silver screen. Nick was especially thrilled as soon as the commercials ended and footage of nuclear explosions -- with a couple mutants mixed in - played to country music began. The film started off lame and typical, full of “cheap scares” and the like. But our groans ceased an hour into it, when it suddenly became intense and gruesome. Obnoxiously cheering, clapping, and cackling: We were eating it up.
As soon as the movie ended, so did our occasion. Jim, Nick, and Maryann were in Mrs. Milano’s buggy in a flash...never any time to stick around. It was only 6:00, so Zac and I felt weird going straight home. Since when do we depart at daylight? To fill in some time, we stopped to get some eats on the way, listened to more of my dad’s car-azy stories. Zac seemed pleased with how the day went. Usually he would have chilled out at my house afterward, but he had already come around yesterday. Plus, he was plenty tired by then. Next weekend should be more eventful, or at least more gratifying. Maybe by then the guilt will wash away.