i've been thinking a lot of William Tell
we're all trying very, very hard to disappear, to send-off. the balance hinged on my leaving was what kept our little relationship level, but now he's had the offer of a free ticket to Alaska, a place to stay, a job promising "o, ho.. $50G's the first month" (no matter all he's told me about this buddy is that he's a pathological liar), and a chance to leave before i do.
i think this makes things better, cutting the wait till September down to mere days.
spoke with his little sister, who's my age, for drunken minutes during the distance from The Pocket to bedtime. sarah said she overheard the funniest conversation between B & his friends a week ago, talking about when and where i was leaving. "I told you that you were gonna miss her too much, man. You should have backed out when you had the chance." she & i didn't think gents had these conversations.
i don't know who he is. i mean i know him all too well, more than he thinks, but i don't know who he is in relation to who i am. you know? i could look at him and say, sure, yep, that's brian and look at his funny little ears and that crooked painful smile and his limp and his cane and he's grinning with his slightly skewed eye and winking and i know half of what he's thinking. but who he is to me... time has stunted this... or shot us so far past the point we should sensibly be, emotionally, that we're just living through this with an execution date looming on the horizon and honestly nothing to lose but proximity and affection and the feeling of saying nothing to each other. i hate good-byes. and good boys. and could-have-beens.
and i'm dwelling on having to leave brian to avoid the notion that i'm going to have to part ways with every single motherfucker that i love in this city.
i'm afraid to be jobless, and lonely, and forgotten. but this is what it's all about.
i think this makes things better, cutting the wait till September down to mere days.
spoke with his little sister, who's my age, for drunken minutes during the distance from The Pocket to bedtime. sarah said she overheard the funniest conversation between B & his friends a week ago, talking about when and where i was leaving. "I told you that you were gonna miss her too much, man. You should have backed out when you had the chance." she & i didn't think gents had these conversations.
i don't know who he is. i mean i know him all too well, more than he thinks, but i don't know who he is in relation to who i am. you know? i could look at him and say, sure, yep, that's brian and look at his funny little ears and that crooked painful smile and his limp and his cane and he's grinning with his slightly skewed eye and winking and i know half of what he's thinking. but who he is to me... time has stunted this... or shot us so far past the point we should sensibly be, emotionally, that we're just living through this with an execution date looming on the horizon and honestly nothing to lose but proximity and affection and the feeling of saying nothing to each other. i hate good-byes. and good boys. and could-have-beens.
and i'm dwelling on having to leave brian to avoid the notion that i'm going to have to part ways with every single motherfucker that i love in this city.
i'm afraid to be jobless, and lonely, and forgotten. but this is what it's all about.