2005-11-29 - 11:19 p.m.
I've made myself a mix of all my favorite songs right now. It's been a long time since I've done this. A new favorite is Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, but it's also got some bluegrass and some T. Rex and some Portishead and absolutely no hip hop at all and I'm reminded once again that hip hop never sticks for me.
I'm taking a girl who I might be falling for to see the Harry Potter movie tomorrow. It's at The Senator, a theater that's supposed to be beautiful on the inside (the outside's imposing and brightly lit and pretty great in sort of the same way that that famous valley in Yosemite is pretty great) but I've never been there. We've been seeing each other for a few months. She's an ex-girlfriend of a friend and we seem to have weathered that all right and she's exciting and laughs a lot and is in general straight honey for my soul.
But what's not honey is that I got caught in a lie by another girl who I care for a great deal. She just turned twenty years old and she understands me and I am beginning to understand her even though she's much smarter than I am and hard to figure out because she's got darkness in her like we all do that makes me want to hold her tight and make it better. But she goes to school in Rhode Island and she's always been too young for me, even from the beginning, and I've known that from the beginning, too. But I could never forsake what magic we have even though my friends and wise people tell me to and though the lie was about nothing big really I tried to cover it up even though I was tired and doing a masterfully terrible job and now I feel bad about it. And she's a beautiful creature and it can never work and those are the facts and I'm trying to deal with them as best I'm equipped. Which is probably not all that well. In the end, I guess, I wish and she wishes and we all wish.
And so I carry on like I do. An essay just came out in a journal and though I haven't gotten my copies yet I went to the web site and read the bios of everyone else who has things in this issue. One of the writers runs her own publishing house in Kentucky and so today I got back on the publishing train. I sent her a letter. I'm not getting my hopes up, but in the letter I told her about my stuff and since she's already reading this journal with her work in it would she mind taking a look at my essay and maybe think about looking at my big one?
My friend Kevin calls me sometimes at 7:30 or so in the morning. Sometimes I answer, thinking he's got a flat tire or something, but he's always calling from the new YMCA on 33rd Street, giving me a hard time for saying I maybe might join and he has and why am I not sitting in the sauna with him right now, pleasantly tired from a swim and about to be getting ready for work? I'm intrigued by this because I need to exercise more but I've never been able to get up early and I fear spending $39 a month and then not going and feeling guilty about that. I am, however, interested in locker rooms. I've never spent much time in them, even in middle school when last I took actual gym class, when we were supposed to take showers and when some of the boys wore their whitey tighties into the communal shower because some had hair but most did not. The jokes about dropping the bar of soap never going out of style, even well into winter and Robbie Newman and I sharing the locker and talking about whether we'd be going to the dances and talking about the difference between slow dancing and fast dancing and about how good the girls' hair smelled when you danced slow dances.
Saw Hot Hot Heat at Sonar two weeks ago. They were fun. Routines are developing now that I've been back for a few months. Monday night is class. Tuesday is home time, with reading and writing. Wednesday is Kevin and Kerry's back yard, with beer and smokes and sometimes board games and hoodies and gloves and the breath in the air that I always wished I could touch.
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