The saddest thing about being on the evening shift and working both major weekend nights is that when I finally get off at 1100 and get home [1130
ish] - you all are all ready well into whatever you have going for the night or you're all ready passed out.
Me and my beer and
High Fidelity DVD - and a couple of you may get calls... I need some action tonight! I need to howl at the moon and sing and laugh and a snog would be nice [look it up on
wikepedia, I had to] -
I watched
Say Anything last week; ah to be young and playing tonsil hockey in a car or in a hot tub again, to feel warm flesh against mine, electrical shocks where bodies, hands and mouths meet, reckless romance under the moon and stars, forging bonds and pouring out hopes and dreams.... to be young and in love again....
God damn, I'm going to have to turn off
High Fidelity. Sometimes it hits too close. I DID make tapes to impress others, I'd tape Motown comps and box sets into a perfectly flowing
Chaz mix to throw down in the
store on a Saturday morning or go home and string together 60s and 70s blues and blues/rock like [the original Peter Green led]
Fleetwood Mac and Johnny Winter and
Allman Brothers and John
Mayall and Rory Gallagher and Muddy and Wolf and
Yarbirds and WHIP IT OUT in some macho quest for the approval of the other music snobs at Forever Young.
I've had the "Who the fuck is Ian? We don't know anyone named Ian!" moment. I've had the Charlie Nicholson "this chick is too hot/ smart/ beautiful /
worldy wise / sex goddess / mature / insert word for hot for me." I've dated and dumped the Penny
Hardwick girl. I've slept with the Sarah
Kendrew. Have I dated the Laura? I know a couple people like that, but dated? I don't think so. I've never
committed myself enough to get to that point. I know that's a shocking sentence to a lot of you... NOT!
Yeah, my life is a series of John
Cusak movies - except "I FREAKED OUT, I JOINED THE ARMY AND BECAME A HIT MAN!!!"
Would I like to go back to New Year's Eve 1989/1990 again? To be in that bed with her again alone in that
apartment? Or would I just like to know if she really cared the way she said and got tired of waiting for me to make up my mind? Would I like to be in another apartment a year before or two year later with someone else who though I was something while I was pining for someone else who didn't and really realize what was going on and...
Okay, no
more beers... well that's a lie, probably more beers but no more blogging and crying in my beers. Change the movie and tell myself tomorrow is another day. Oh God, Lisa
Bonet - the worst thing that could happen.
Caterwauling, ruining a Peter
Frampton song I can't even listen to anymore because it's overplayed to death and yes, she makes the evening WORSE. Yes even worse than these memories and regrets crawling though my mind.
Time for another beer.
SALEH!