It's here.
The Alexander House is not easy work. My entire weekend has revolved around working in that kitchen and sleeping off the exhaustion. But I like it. I really like it. I'm just comfortable with a knife in my hand and shouting at servers. I've been working three days, and I'm already comfortable enough there to shout at the servers.
But as The Alexander House has been devouring my time, I'm still behind, academically. But whatever. If I get three A's and a C that's more than fine and life goes on and I don't care because the C would be in a lit class, not as a judgment of my creative writing--my major, right?
This was weird last night (and relates to the nostalgia factory of the CL, c. 2002/3): Not only did I go to an engagement party, but at that party, Ashley Oakes (Codename: Cyclops) told me that I'd been an inspirational figure who had helped turn her life around simply through my lefty writings from high school. For about a solid five minutes last night, she heaped on me the kind of flattery that reminded me of the most desperate of floozies from movies I've seen. I kept laughing, and she said things like, "No, don't laugh at yourself. Don't you dare belittle your skill! You're an amazing, inspiring writer." What she didn't understand (because she was drunk--she had to have been drunk) was that I was laughing at her.
How could I have been "inspiring" for her when we were in high school. I made fun of her just as much as--if not more than--Gilmore did, and most of my insults related to the "can you get pregnant from a blow job?" incident. All other insults belittled her writing efforts. I was a prick in high school (and kind of still am), and if I targeted any one person over anyone else, it was probably Cyclops.
Eventually, I got to dancing at 45 and then Emily drove me home because it was raining.
And between 2 and 2:30 in the morning I talked to the guys, who are in Colorado with Garrett right now. It was also Alec's birthday yesterday. It was good to talk to them and hear about how the tour's going and also to have some questions answered concerning their fan-base and also the photos they'd had posted on their MySpace which weren't at all indicative of what kind of band they are. It's been a fine semester without them, but I've found that I've had to try a lot harder to have fun than the previous five semesters.
Somewhere in the distance beyond my window an old tractor emerges from its shed, and it sputters and coughs itself back to life, and then a crescendo of maniacal laughter: "That grass is doomed."
But as The Alexander House has been devouring my time, I'm still behind, academically. But whatever. If I get three A's and a C that's more than fine and life goes on and I don't care because the C would be in a lit class, not as a judgment of my creative writing--my major, right?
This was weird last night (and relates to the nostalgia factory of the CL, c. 2002/3): Not only did I go to an engagement party, but at that party, Ashley Oakes (Codename: Cyclops) told me that I'd been an inspirational figure who had helped turn her life around simply through my lefty writings from high school. For about a solid five minutes last night, she heaped on me the kind of flattery that reminded me of the most desperate of floozies from movies I've seen. I kept laughing, and she said things like, "No, don't laugh at yourself. Don't you dare belittle your skill! You're an amazing, inspiring writer." What she didn't understand (because she was drunk--she had to have been drunk) was that I was laughing at her.
How could I have been "inspiring" for her when we were in high school. I made fun of her just as much as--if not more than--Gilmore did, and most of my insults related to the "can you get pregnant from a blow job?" incident. All other insults belittled her writing efforts. I was a prick in high school (and kind of still am), and if I targeted any one person over anyone else, it was probably Cyclops.
Eventually, I got to dancing at 45 and then Emily drove me home because it was raining.
And between 2 and 2:30 in the morning I talked to the guys, who are in Colorado with Garrett right now. It was also Alec's birthday yesterday. It was good to talk to them and hear about how the tour's going and also to have some questions answered concerning their fan-base and also the photos they'd had posted on their MySpace which weren't at all indicative of what kind of band they are. It's been a fine semester without them, but I've found that I've had to try a lot harder to have fun than the previous five semesters.
Somewhere in the distance beyond my window an old tractor emerges from its shed, and it sputters and coughs itself back to life, and then a crescendo of maniacal laughter: "That grass is doomed."