introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- autumn weather and the movie guy night out - sixth of october, 2001 "some boy you are to wear my colour red to wear it very proudly..."~tori amos you must be the strangest boy in the world. sometimes, i can't help but think that, you know. strange, strange, strange. tonight, i came home from work and you were a lot of miles away. i came home from work and shed the layers of uniform they gave me on my first day: a green polo shirt that just isn't quite as cool as a real polo shirt because its made of a polyester blend and cut to bring out the dork in you, a khaki hat that with the oh-so-chic adjustable strap in the back like the yuppie outdoors-type stores (only with a snap at the adjuster that just says....yeah, we still crave those plastic adjusters, just the same), my name tag, the new black pants i've purchased to finish the look. i shirked my grease-worn hikers without untieing them, sighing at the cost of the good LL Bean name but reminding myself that these are not my favourite hikers, anyway. i stripped in the room that is still cluttered (if not moreso) from when you were here mere days ago. the window was still cracked open. i didn't want to move a thing in a Miss Havisham sort of line of thinking. but last night, it was raining and the books you lent me were beside my bed and i didn't want them to get wet...but i had to hear the wind that ravished the dark, empty, after midnight streets. i had to hear the sound of the rain. the window was still cracked open and the air was chilly on my naked flesh. i am constantly reminded that summer cannot last forever. gone are the days of flights south to that quiet road that led to your house and the sweet southern accent on the air whenever anyone speaks. still, the smell of autumn is comforting and colourful and sweet and i love the weight of sweaters on my shoulders; i love the feel of warm blankets again. i showered and made the arrangments to meet her at six--just long enough for a short nap. i've been so tired. i can hardly think of anything but everything seems to be keeping me awake. i layed down and curled up under the covers that covered us both only days ago and i lay there, still naked but clean, under the sheets and blankets and dozed. when the alarm went off, i woke with ease. you see, i haven't been able to wake up without the billy holiday since you left. every single thing makes me think of you when we're this far apart. i like when you're the first thing on my mind. i pulled on my dirty jeans and tied my favourite hiking boots over thick socks. the air was still cooler since i arrived home. i pulled on my tight yellow turtleneck that is almost the same colour as the shirt that dot liked so much. i layered my grey hooded sweater over it and tied my poorly cut locks back in the blue bandana of which i've grown so fond. i met her and we headed off to the theatre, then. she wanted to see a film i'd only heard mention of and i agreed. her mother has dimentia. she needs these little breaks. she needs to do things on her own. and so, we went in and we got the tickits. she headed to the restroom as dear old women tend to do often when out while i stood in the rather long line to pick up the small order of popcorn she desired, no butter. and she took a good bit of time and so, i listened and watched the people around me: families, married couples, first dates. and thats where i saw him. you see, though near everything i encounter makes me think of you somehow, nothing holds the strength of your effects on me like the movie theatre. i am forever looking at the marquees for the dates of new releases that you'll always know more about than i. i don't even watch movies like i did before i met you and i like that. i like that i know some of your terms. i like that you never cease to teach me something new. so there he was, in his black pants and white shirt; in his bow tie and maroon vest. he was pulling an overly large movie theatre five dollar soda from the fountain. they must take forever to fill because he had a few moments to converse with a man waiting near the counter, presumably for his round wife to join him with the large popcorn and drink she was ordering. you see, this week...they're probably selling a lot of large popcorns and drinks. its free refill week. americans can put away large quantities of popcorn and soda. americans love things that are free. but it wasn't anything about the drink or the politics or the uniform that reminded me of you. "how are you tonight, sir?" "just fine. you?" "i'm just great. what are you seeing this evening?" "hardball." "mm. *nod* thats good. be prepared, though, its a little sad. but well done." the man nodded back and must've felt me watching because he turned and looked at me. i was smiling. but i wasn't smiling because of anything that had been said. i was smiling because i was thinking of you. i was thinking of you and your Suncoast days, perhaps suggesting films to customers....just...being knowledgable you. i got her her popcorn. i smiled at the conversationalist behind the counter. its getting so cold, baby. but even in this cold, you still warm every single part of me. and every day, i'm reminded a million different times and ways exactly how much i love you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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