in-bed ramblings
alright, this should be interesting, cuz im typing while lying back in my bed and with my eyes closed, and my neck at this weird angle, but i'll see how poorly i type. hopefully, i don't hit caps lock in the middle of this or it will be really annoying and obtrusive, just like owen meany's newspaper articles. anyways, i just spent three hours on facebook, trying to find all my friends from st. hugh's. i managed to send out about ten friend requests, so if they get back to me, i might be able to get back in touch with all the "old gang".
anyway, i had to...well, i didn't have to, but i decided to go and visit him today. that's one of the key reasons why i'm typing this with my eyes closed...i can't bear the thought of having to read what im typing. that means no proofreading, but hopefully u can figure out what it is i'm trying to say. if u can't, well, bully for you, and you can just skip over this entry to a more easily-read one. yeah, i'll be switching back and forth from proper spelling to AIM spelling. it's just faster and easier for me to get it all out. maybe i'll edit this and put the properly typed out version in a lj-cut, but for now, i just need to get it all out.
i don't think i can quite voice the emotion that i felt when i saw all the white flowers that had been planted over his grave...it's like i had to acknowledge the fact that it's been two months since i last visited. Mr. Brody's got a stone already (God bless his heart and soul), but josh has still only got that little marker thingy. i'm gonna bring Rosie to school with me. yes, Rosie the exorcist bear. i think i'll leave the mouse and small bear here though. (gotta leave room for other stuffed animals.)
goddamnit. i still can't believe he's not here anymore. i mean, we might not have even talked until we both came back to holmdel at homecoming, but still, it's just this emptiness that i feel, thinking about how i can't just IM him with my latest "boy story." even though itwa always inevitably some sort of one-sided unrequited business, it was still nice to get him all hot and bothered and jealous (that last part was my own imagination speaking) when i'd talk about matt or brad or whomever else i happened to fancy at the moment. the best times were when we'd try to talk in the language we had made up. there were a few languages, if i remember correctly. there was one where we substituted numbers for EVERYTHING. it was completely different from 1337 though. there was another one where we had to type out every punctuation mark. there was even one where we had to type out the spaces, so that each IM was just a single "word" because u couldn't use the space button. and last summer was when we typed out our IMs backwards. i think i'm reminiscing 'cause i just edited my myspace profile. speaking of myspace, he's still in my top 8 friends thing. well, 7, cuz SOMEONE deleted his/her profile. i didn't even show him my canada moose pillow. we didn't even get to watch "not another teen movie" in its entirety. just the second half, and we missed most of that 'cause we were too busy *ahem* yeahh...
but dude...WHY? naze? why? doushite...? yeah, he was being dumb and not listening to my telling him not to speed so much over the speed limit, and maybe i should have been more forceful, but i didn't want to push him away, but maybe it was my fault...no, it's not my fault, there's nothing i could have done, and i need to stop blaming myself, oh shut up, ms. moran-kudisch, or however u spell ur name. i don't need ur dumb rubberband ball (even though it was mighty amusing), and i sure as hell don't need your straight-out-of-the-books advice. i've seen enough hollywood movies and read enough dime novels to knwo why psychologists and psychiatrists and therapists say to their clients/patients/whatevers. i KNOW i'm not the one to blame, but there's always the giant WHAT IF question. i wonder what the last thought flashing through his mind was before he slipped into the coma? i wonder what steve's last thought was. i wonder what burden joe carries at the bottom of his metaphysical heart? in the innermost sanctum of his soul? now that i feel i've thoroughly confused the heck out of myself and am no longer being at all coherent, i'm gonna say that...
...i dunno how long i've been typing for, but i think i should probably look back at the screen and stop. if you've stayed with me until this point, congratulations. this has probably told you absolutely nothing about how my mind works, but i shall start using this lj as a rant, so you might want to take me off your friends page, 'cause you'll probably resort to just skipping over my LONG-winded entries. they will be long-winded. unless i'm trying to make a point. in which case they shall be short and to said point.
actually, i don't think i can stop here, 'cause there's so much more i want to say. i can't really talk about specific people, or rather, i can't really name specific people, becuause of whiplash...potential whiplash. dammit, that means that i have to stop.
argh.
anyway, i had to...well, i didn't have to, but i decided to go and visit him today. that's one of the key reasons why i'm typing this with my eyes closed...i can't bear the thought of having to read what im typing. that means no proofreading, but hopefully u can figure out what it is i'm trying to say. if u can't, well, bully for you, and you can just skip over this entry to a more easily-read one. yeah, i'll be switching back and forth from proper spelling to AIM spelling. it's just faster and easier for me to get it all out. maybe i'll edit this and put the properly typed out version in a lj-cut, but for now, i just need to get it all out.
i don't think i can quite voice the emotion that i felt when i saw all the white flowers that had been planted over his grave...it's like i had to acknowledge the fact that it's been two months since i last visited. Mr. Brody's got a stone already (God bless his heart and soul), but josh has still only got that little marker thingy. i'm gonna bring Rosie to school with me. yes, Rosie the exorcist bear. i think i'll leave the mouse and small bear here though. (gotta leave room for other stuffed animals.)
goddamnit. i still can't believe he's not here anymore. i mean, we might not have even talked until we both came back to holmdel at homecoming, but still, it's just this emptiness that i feel, thinking about how i can't just IM him with my latest "boy story." even though itwa always inevitably some sort of one-sided unrequited business, it was still nice to get him all hot and bothered and jealous (that last part was my own imagination speaking) when i'd talk about matt or brad or whomever else i happened to fancy at the moment. the best times were when we'd try to talk in the language we had made up. there were a few languages, if i remember correctly. there was one where we substituted numbers for EVERYTHING. it was completely different from 1337 though. there was another one where we had to type out every punctuation mark. there was even one where we had to type out the spaces, so that each IM was just a single "word" because u couldn't use the space button. and last summer was when we typed out our IMs backwards. i think i'm reminiscing 'cause i just edited my myspace profile. speaking of myspace, he's still in my top 8 friends thing. well, 7, cuz SOMEONE deleted his/her profile. i didn't even show him my canada moose pillow. we didn't even get to watch "not another teen movie" in its entirety. just the second half, and we missed most of that 'cause we were too busy *ahem* yeahh...
but dude...WHY? naze? why? doushite...? yeah, he was being dumb and not listening to my telling him not to speed so much over the speed limit, and maybe i should have been more forceful, but i didn't want to push him away, but maybe it was my fault...no, it's not my fault, there's nothing i could have done, and i need to stop blaming myself, oh shut up, ms. moran-kudisch, or however u spell ur name. i don't need ur dumb rubberband ball (even though it was mighty amusing), and i sure as hell don't need your straight-out-of-the-books advice. i've seen enough hollywood movies and read enough dime novels to knwo why psychologists and psychiatrists and therapists say to their clients/patients/whatevers. i KNOW i'm not the one to blame, but there's always the giant WHAT IF question. i wonder what the last thought flashing through his mind was before he slipped into the coma? i wonder what steve's last thought was. i wonder what burden joe carries at the bottom of his metaphysical heart? in the innermost sanctum of his soul? now that i feel i've thoroughly confused the heck out of myself and am no longer being at all coherent, i'm gonna say that...
...i dunno how long i've been typing for, but i think i should probably look back at the screen and stop. if you've stayed with me until this point, congratulations. this has probably told you absolutely nothing about how my mind works, but i shall start using this lj as a rant, so you might want to take me off your friends page, 'cause you'll probably resort to just skipping over my LONG-winded entries. they will be long-winded. unless i'm trying to make a point. in which case they shall be short and to said point.
actually, i don't think i can stop here, 'cause there's so much more i want to say. i can't really talk about specific people, or rather, i can't really name specific people, becuause of whiplash...potential whiplash. dammit, that means that i have to stop.
argh.