kitty kitty

(unfinished draft)

So i met this girl.

It was a Saturday night I thinks. I was working on a project for the City of Lafayette, for real work. When you're in the middle of the country, and you have nothing for support, working on a Friday night isn't unusual. But as of recently, I have become passionate about this, about work! I wanted what was created to be the best I could possibly do, that anyone could do, I wanted the end product to be featured in next year's design annuals and have it win all sorts of awards, I want to become some sort of cultural, underground phenomena. I was that fucking serious about it.

To trick my senses into thinking I'm being some what social. I leave my Instant Messenger program on to get delightfully bothered every now and again. It's been easier since I joined a certain online community You wouldn't believe how many people I've found work not two blocks away from where I work on Pearl Street. I should ask them all for lunch one day.

That night, I got a random IM from a girl, this being not too unusual. People like to talk to people about themselves, I never really understood the draw. I never start these conversations, but anser anyone that does want to say hello. Look! I'm even anti-social when it comes to talking to people on a computer, I'm udderly hopeless.

This girl, like many, talked about herself and Indie music, which I really don't have a clue what exactly that is, music today isn't what it should be. I plan to fix that soon. I am the savior of this world you know. I guess I told her I was indie music personified, whatever that means, I like to bullshit on this stupid contraption of a program. This girl went away as randomly as she appeared and I went to sleep soon afterwards. I later found out she smoked pot for the first time in months before she talked to me. So very normal. I've been working on Friday nights since I was seventeen. At 3 am, not many people bother you and all your favorite songs come alive in your headphones.

And then I started talking to her more.

I found out all sorts of things that someone reading now may find interesting and somewhat critical to any story I'm trying to put together, she lives in the same dorm on campus as my Silent Bob Body Double friend. She knows who The Pixies are (which, is a very very good thing) She was a writer for a paper that had some time with the Vilage Voice, kinda like the Village Voice of Nashville. She... never met someone she first talked to online.

I forgot exactly I was really doing one time, when my computer was on and IM was on as well, something amazingly embarrising and the main reason I don't have some sort of webcam to just make my nerdish leanings oh so complete. She asked if I would like to meet sometime. No big deal really, someone to talk to for a night, someone new and fresh and hopefully not ugly but obviously shy. Sometimes meeting people you know about but never physically met is like fighting with a total stranger - you don't know theire strengths or weaknesses, you barely know what they look like, you're just in the ring with them and there is no way to escape...

We met on a Wednesday night. I think I even shaved. We met at her dowm and walked and talked to a coffee shop, got kicked out of the said coffee shop, then went through campus and somehow, out throught the other side of campus and down by ways of 30th, the street I used to live on.

When I moved out of that house on 30th, I left this Marble Sculpture that I carved (and haven't fully written a story about) this summer. I explained how crazy I got after carving 8 - 8 hour days in a row in the middle of nowhere for no particular reason but to do it, carving an emerging human form from a solid, quarter ton of pure white stone. We walked back to her dorm and sat on a bench and talked and talked and talked till about 3:00am.

That was Wednesday, I didn't see her on Thursday, but Thursday was the day I bought my Fender Stratocaster and actually went out with another girl that asked me if I'd like to meet right after girl #1 did. Something must have been in the air. I talked to her, walked to a coffee shop recited the same stories in auto mode and said goodbye a little sooner than the day before. I walked down Broadway, towards home with my guitar in it's guitar case, feeling like someone who wants to walk with a guitar, in it's guitar case.

The next day, I got up very late to work, I proably slept with the guitar in my bed. I'm almost sure of it. It happens. I almost changed that day, tied the dread of hair into a bun and scuttled back to work. I looked like crap and felt much the same. At 2:00pm, I decided to call girl #1. Walked outside to use the pay phone, dialed, ring. ring. ring.

ring. ring. ring. Hi, this is -

At that moment, I turned to the right and saw the exact girl I was trying to call. I out the phone down and recited what just happened and what i was doing and using lots of 'duhs' and 'ands' - i was caught off gaurd. I was embarressed by my appearance (scruffy and smelly, if smelly can appear, it did) She was "being a girl" and shopping for things she didn't need and I just so happened to be right in there. Crazy. So I asked her right then and there to hang out on Saturday and on Saturday I shaved again (that's twice that week) donned my aligator 70's red polo shirt made sure I had deoderant on and went back to her dorm.

I had planned this night, researched our entertainment possibilities. Made a plan 'B', made a plan 'C', alternative plans if she wasn't even there, if, somehow I got run over by a clown car on the way there, all two blocks. She heard what I thought would be fun and shot them all down. She opted that talking in her dormroom would be just fab. She wanted me to tell her a sequel to a story I had.

You see,

I pointed her to some diary entries I wrote about some horrible times I had, the first visit back to Colorado. I hinted there was a followup I haven't written yet (looks like I'll be busy writing things, or none of my stories now will ever make sense) and she was determined to get it out of me.

Odd little note, I wrote this much and stopped, cause well, I do sleep sometimes, I visited her and she saw all the above and wanted to read the rest, the draft of the draft that was in my notebook. She read as I looked dumbly on the floor. She finished, closed the notebook and threw it down and looked pissed. What do I do? Take this off? Stop right here? What would you do? -js

I protested, but promised I'd tell her, that night, half lying. It wasn't easy shit for me to talk about, and the longer I waited, the harded it was to say anything to anybody Think about how that is. Think hard. I was in a major funk. I'll be damned if just anyone was told. Six months this had been in my noggin. So we talked about... things - friends, hometowns, college - but she wanted to know, she was curious, I wanted to kiss her. I'm a guy and she had an amazing looking top on. I am in her dorm, aren't I? So I tried. She backed away completely and I felt like the fool I always knew I was. I felt, great, ruined the night - good work alex! you fucking idiot.

I stared at her wall, which looked much more interesting than it had previously been. wow, off-white cool. "Is that, eggshell white?" I should have said to break the silence. Her roomate put one of those motivational posters on the wall, something with an awe-inspiring picture, with a caption to just melt your little heart and in real small type, some sort of dumb quote. Her ibook started playing a song by Belle and Sebastian that I somehow knew, a girl gave me a mix cd of it and it's actually very nice, so i sung along, trying, anyways - i got half the words and made a note to look up the lyrics if ever such a situation ever comes up again. I didn't know what she was thinking. I really didn't know what I was either. What to do? It seemd like the right place/right time thing. So we sat. On her bed. I had to piss for like the 10th tiem that day, cause sometimes when I'm nervous I have to piss alot. I remember when I was the juggler for Dick Nixon, I pissed maybe 4 times a half hour before the show and didn't realize that I was using the women's rest room till that forth time. She still wanted to hear that story. That Story I haven't told anyone. Anywhere. So I told her about, IT. I told her how terrible sad I was because of THAT (I'll write about it formally later, I swear). I cried, she squeezed my hand, I whipped my hair back into place and gave a shrug and a smile between the tears. I looked at her and asked her what she was thinking and she replied that she was wondering what I was thinking so (oh no) we smooched.

Whatever just had happened, I felt fucking happy - telling something so horrible and getting off my mind, the largest relieve I've felt all year and then having that happen to me, it catapults how you feel about that person, like two things get mixed up in your brain and you can't decifer what each exactly is, but the mixture of the two is fireworks. Fireworks! In the dorms, oh never so happy to be in the dorms! Till 6:30am doing similar little talks with similar little kisses until she kicked me out - her roomate was coming back in the morning, and well, that's dorm life for you. I walked home dazed and all that cal, home being only a couple blocks from school. I'll never know how I got this place so soon before college started. Halfway there, I remember: Forgot my keys The thought actually came to me, if I was locked out of my house, that sleeping outside, until someone from inside the house let me in, that that situation would be O.K. I would be cool about freezy myself for hours. I hoped the fence to the backyard and made it through the doggy door, no problem. The moment I collapsed on the futon mattress, my roomate's alarm went off. All Saturdays should end like this, as all Sundays should begin like this.

(abandoned for now)

Love Is Just A Joyride, hey girl?

saturday i chalked done some words i brought
all about a girl i thought i loved
told the story of what we did and what went wrong
heard it all before,

it's the same old song