|
the coastergirl diaries volume thirty-nine she asked me that night if i knew him. i told her i'd heard of him and asked her why. she told me they'd talked for a while earlier that day and she'd told him she wated him to meet me (this happened almost daily. looking back i feel like i almost played the "new teddy bear" role. everyone she met had to meet me. i know, though, that she meant it in the best possible way.) i said alright. she ivited him to her place a few nights later. he'd had his license revoked for DWIs so he had to drive slow and careful over. the three of us sat around and bullshited awhile while he got drunk and made silly comments like "i like ted bundy because he openly worshiped the devil." and "i liek night time because it reminds me of evil." i got bored with him so i walked over to the diving board and sat down. it was killing me. he wanted her so badly and wasn't making any move to hide it. a dead man could have seen it. i realized i was too attched to her and him and all the rest of it so i burned a couple cigarettes into my forearm to remind me of detachment. i burned them to the butt and then stared at them. i was detached again. coastergirl came over after a little while and i slid my arm into the shadow. she had enever understood this. not that it was something i had done many times before. i had done it once before to make a point to someone about detachment. i think they got the picture. her: will you stay tongiht? me: sure. her: in the guestroom. me: jacob's too drunk to drive. her: i know. me: he needs to stay. her: i know. me: so if i stay in the guestroom where will jacob sleep? her: he's going to stay in my room. me: what the fuck are you saying? her: i don't think he should be alone. me: you want ME to stay in the guestroom while you FUCK some other guy? her: i'm not going to fuck him. me: says you. her: fuck you for not trusting me. i'm trying to be a good friend to him here. me: fuck this, i'm going home. i'm not going to sit here while you try to make me feel like an ass for not wanting to sleep in the next room while some other guy satys in yours. give me a call sometime. i went home. the next day she called and appologized and i stopped by there before she went to work. she immediatly noticed the burn blisters on my forearm. her: you promised me. me: no i didn't. her: you know i don't want you doing that shit. me: and you know it's not a depression thing. you know it's just a reminder to be detached from my emotions. her: how does that help? me: if i detach from physical sensations i automatically detach from eomtional sensations. her: you don't see how that's fucked up? me: if you weren't attached to your conventional ideas about things you would see how it makes sense. look, i'm not advertising it as a cure for all the wrold's problems, it's just my version of a post it on the bathroom mirror that says "detachment". As she was pulling out to leave for work, she hit me with her car. i was thrown up onto the trunk and my head hit the roof of her car. she stopped and made sure i was okay, appologized emphatically between a few laughs, then left for work. she called me from work crying hysterically appologizing for hitting me. i was okay and i told her so. i told her just to go to work and not think about it, that i'd see her later. she realized that night tht her cd case was missing.
|
 |
index archives profile notes book rings quizzes reviews custom host |
