November 25, 2001
Pete the Peg-Legged Jello Mold
What the hell is that, you ask? That is the product of fifty minutes free time, Jill's bevy of colored pens, and the warped imaginings of Kels, Lindle, and myself. Let us just say it is a deranged stab at Where's Waldo. Why don't you see if you can find a Chinese Satan with a stabbing penis eye, the tooth fairy and her subsequent shower of teeth, two dismembered children or a jello pirate? I promise you, they're all there. And they brought the moo-moo clad women with them.
The three of us went to see the Van Dells last night, a rock and roll review band that Kasey's dad is a founding member of. They've been around for twenty-seven years and the reach of their fame exceeds me, though they are definitely more than just local. They were awesome. Moreover, their guitarist was awesome. Awesome and hot. He amazed the crowd, and most notably Kelsi and myself, with totally wicked guitar solos and a brief but bad-ass guitar bit played behind his back. He also tossed his guitar pick to the crowd, and due to the senility and bad backs of the aged crowd, I got it! Needless to say it was a fantastic, if long, evening.
And may I say I hate girls? We take way too long to pee. Yes, I admit to the penchant for dragging a friend with me, but I still take the same amount of time to pee. Kels and I waited in line for interminable amounts of time in a line of about ten or fifteen women long. I will never understand my own sex, let alone the opposite.
Speaking of the opposite sex, I miss my semi-significant other most acutely this evening. I think I know why.
I remembered why I love him today.
He called me this afternoon, his voice sweet on the other end of the line. He is convinced that the mail runs on Thanksgiving. Still. Even though we had this argument when he called on Friday, we had it again today.
But at least he didn't go insulting my mail people again.
I was reading one of my old journals as well today, and came across something he had said that I was so stumbled by that I wrote it down. Something from the summer, before August when I hated him for a whole month:
"My happiness has nothing to do with it. I'm happy just to know you."
I'm sighing right now. I can remember the night he said it very clearly, remember the context in which he said this. But it was true, I think. I hope.
Not so long now before I can hold him again, before I can be held, before I can look in his eyes and see all the truth I crave, before there is nothing left for me to crave. When I will have everything I need.
astera at patient