wrangled and wrinkled.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Now don’t get me wrong. All these people are my friends. We have had many good times, we have shared a lot and been there for each other. I am being hypercritical in my analysis. I tend to do that sometimes. I also fashion myself as a closet introvert. I mean, look at these writings, don’t you think I am a tad pensive? Or am I thoughtless, heartless and selfish. I am hard on my friends, but it’s all honesty.

So I have another one for you. His name is Red. Red got his name, or at least from me for being the exact opposite. He is very black and white in his thinking. You are either right or wrong, and you always have 2 choices. To Red, there is no gray.

Thursday night, Red joined us in the usual spot at the coffee shop. Now as a group we are being very stereotypical of 20 something’s. We sit in a shop, which sells these terrible tasting drinks. In this shop we confer, we adhere, and we encourage each other. These talks are a big pat on the back to our collective ego(s). We sat a round table. We being Tim, Con, Red and I. Con and Tim were already up to their usual banter. They are both creatively inclined. It’s nice to eavesdrop sometimes, on their creative conversations, but other times, it’s such a burden. I wish that for once we could not talk about these such issues: art, politics, music, and gossip.

Red sat down, slowly in his hard-backed chair. The shop had bad drinks, hard backed chairs, and loud music. Hardly a place for geriatrics, I know, but that’s probably the exact reason we conversed there. Red usually brought his own drink, which was most likely against house rules, but these neo-beatniks cared nothing about it. To them, this was a means to get their poetry careers started.

One time, at an open mic, I heard one of them:

"Air so thin, I can hardly breathe
I’m filled with such angst, and with no re-reprieve
You desert me again.


Now I wander with no purpose
I shop with no purses
And I’m stuck in the cereal isle."

Red had respect for the arts, and loved debates. He hated that poem, but the one who read this atrocity was kind on cute, in a neo-beatnik way. I respected her for giving it a go, but she needed to list in a few more literature courses. She probably ain’t even read Poe.

Turning his chair backwards, Red announced his arrival. "Hey guys." Red’s greetings were often short, but always polite. I loved this guy. Red never bothered telling you all his stories, he was never interested in boosting his own myth, but he was always interested in ours. Ours being Tim, Con and Mine. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak it was always well said. Tim and Con ignored Red, save for a nice "Hi" and a quick nod. Then back to the action of the debate of the night.

"Hey, Red, how are you? Anything interesting going on?" I replied.
"Oh, well I just got back from that lecture I told you about. It was pretty interesting." Red didn’t coat his sentences in superfluous adjectives or action verbs. He was strictly a get to the point type of person. He was Red, and he was black and white.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Don't test my loyalty. You wouldn't want me to detract.

Friday, October 22, 2004

Here's something to know about me: Don't mess with my friends. Even if you are a friend of mine messing with another friend of mine. You better treat them right.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

…I didn't give anyone permission to see inside of my head. "Well that's your problem, anyway" If you were a friend, you would grant me grace and realize everyone needs their secrets. Without secrets, nothing would eat you alive.
Tim was always saying dick things like that. Tim was just one of them. If you could ask him to be gentle with a baby lamb, he'd slay it and burn its ashes to make a milkshake. In short, he was insensitive. Or, to say the least, a tad destructive. He'd like to pretend he was actually being bluntly honest but what he was really doing was unconsciously tearing your self-esteem into little pieces of confetti.But he always a celebration anyway. It was fine by me, I let him live. My other friends couldn't handle it as well. Either I'm thick skinned or a pushover. Or maybe I am just as insensitive and brash.
Secrets though, lend themselves to be strange bedfellows. One moment you're glad to have kept yourself so pure. Not tainting them with a stranger's opinion and heresy. I'd be a good cowboy. It would be easy not to talk to anyone. All you have is cattle and they listen to you in silence.

Not Constance. In fact, just the name Constance leads you to believe, and this just by hearing the name: That she is better than you. Or she can do something better than you. Like in first grade, if you and her we in those reading groups, she'd be a blue bird reading at 3rd grade level and you were still trying to pronounce simple words. She'd play it off, though. Demeaning herself if ever she got a better grade than you.
"Gosh, I really thought I was going to fail this test. Geez. So how did you do?"
"I got a 62."
"Oh, I'm really sorry, but really, I didn't study at all. It must be some fluke."

This heavenly girl could also be conniving. Not in the usual woman head game thing, but because she could think 4 moves ahead, she'd get you. Just then, she barged in on Tim and I.

"Oh, how are you doing?"

This greeting wasn't directed to anyone in general. It was to show us she didn't favor one over the other. Evading all conflict, she gave us a "cover-all" hello, and it was just subtle enough for us to accept it as a kind gesture. She often wore herself thin being everything to everyone. People loved and adored her though. Every single time she saw you it was like you had been locked away for a quarter of a century.

"So what are you doing tonight?"

Addressing the two of us, not making eye contact, but focusing her gaze upon the single poster in my room: One of the latest pop star, of course hung in jest, but none the less a guilty pleasure of mine.

"I will probably bum around." Tim explained, as if Constance and I or his other friends weren't good enough to make some sort of commitment or arrangement to hang out.

"I've been pretty tired lately, and really diving into my work. I can't imagine me being anyone's idea of good company."

Cutting him off in mid-stream she gave some encouragement. "Tim, you know no one thinks that!"This is what made his and hers relationship a special one.

Tim needed affirmation frequently, and Constance, the patron saint of everything good and nice was more than welcome to buffer his fragile ego. I'd like to think Con had a heart of gold, but even her words seemed light on sincerity. She, like Tim hated any sort of commitment. "So anyway, can I have those pictures of Sara?" Tim asked. "What do you mean?" "Well, it’s just, you guys are broken up and seeing how I am friends with her too, I would like to remember her in…""In what, Tim?" By now, I was becoming to realize what he was going to lay on me next…"Well, you know, when she was happy."
"No, I don’t care if you date her. We are still friends and I love her to death, and I can accept that she wants to be happy."

Far be it from my friends to also realize I was still grasping, very fledgingly towards some sort of happiness too. She wasn’t the only martyr in this relationship. If she was a martyr, I’d like to know what exactly she died for.
"Come on man, I would never do that to you. – What kind of creep do you take me for?""The creepiest." Constance and I said in unison.

I think she was starting to see a glimmer of trying to understand how I feel. She was really trying to be a friend, no matter her motives. I can accept that. I will take what I can get, most of the time.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Secrets though, lend themselves to be strange bed fellows. One moment you're glad to have kept yourself so pure. Not tainting them with a stranger's opinion and heresy. I'd be a good cowboy. It's was not to talk to anyone. All you have is cattle and they listen to you in silence. Not Constance.

In fact, just the name Constance leads you to believe, and this just by hearing the name: That she is better than you. Or she can do something better than you. Like in first grade, if you and her we in those reading groups, she'd be a blue bird reading at 3rd grade level and you were still trying to pronounce simple words. She'd play it off, though. Demeaning herself if ever she got a better grade than you.

"Gosh, I really thought I was going to fail this test. Geez. So how did you do?"
"I got a 62."
"Oh, I'm really sorry, but really, I didn't study at all. It must be some fluke."

This heavenly girl could also be conniving. Not in the usual woman head game thing, but because she could think 4 moves ahead, she'd get you.

Just then, she barged in on Tim and I.

"Oh, how are you doing?" This greeting wasn't directed to anyone in general. It was to show us she didn't favor one over the other. Evading all conflict, she gave us a "cover-all" hello, and it was just subtle enough for us to accept it as a kind gesture. She often wore herself thin being everything to everyone. People loved and adored her though. Every single time she saw you it was like you had been locked away for a quarter of a century.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Addressing the two of us, not making eye contact, but focusing her gaze upon the single poster in my room: One of the latest pop star, of course hung in jest, but none the less a guilty pleasure of mine.

"I will probably bum around." Tim explained, as if Constance and I or his other friends weren't good enough to make some sort of commitment or arrangement to hang out. "I've been pretty tired lately, and really diving into my work. I can't imagine me being anyone's idea of good company."

Cutting him off in mid-stream she gave some encouragement. "Tim, you know no one thinks that!"

This is what made his and hers relationship a special one. Tim needed affirmation frequently, and Constance, the patron saint of everything good and nice was more than welcome to buffer his fragile ego. I'd like to think Con had a heart of gold, but even her words seemed light on sincerity. She, like Tim hated any sort of commitment.

Saturday, October 16, 2004

Tim was always saying dick things like that. Tim was just one of them. If you could ask him to be gentle with a baby lamb, he'd slay it and burn it's ashes to make a milkshake. In short, he was insensitive. Or, to say the least a tad destructive. He'd like to pretend he was actually being bluntly honest but what he was really doing was unconsciously tearing your self esteem into little pieces of confety.

But he always a celebration anyway. It was fine by me, I let him live. My other friends couldn't handle it as well. Either I'm thick skinned or a pushover. Or maybe I am just as insensitive and brash.

Friday, October 15, 2004

I didn't give anyone permission to see inside of my head. "Well that's your problem, anyway" If you were a friend, you would grant me grace and realize everyone needs their secrets. Without secrets, nothing would eat you alive.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

It was 1979 today.

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Life has been crazy lately. I can't even begin to explain it.

Things I once held as common currency are being turned upside down. My views have all seemed skewed. All this within a few weeks of school. Why can nothing be simple. It sounds so funny, but now that those days are over, those days which I thought were so hard, I want them back. Like pieces of silver I traded for scraps of food.

Most of this sounds a lot more dramatic than it is, and I have so much I should feel blessed to have. There seems like there is some kind of monumental change around the bend and I keep turning, but the road never straightens. It's the long anticipation that keeps me on edge.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Would things be different if I changed you?