Friday morning, cold weather and dreary traffic. I was climbing the hill toward the freeway, and a white Subaru WRX STI went barreling past. I looked myself in the mirror, smile, and slammed the clutch down with my worn black Chucks. Just then, "Leper Messiah" started playing, and I smiled. Five miles of high speed daredevilry through heavy traffic later, I waved to my playmate and took my exit.
At lunch, we discussed the adventures with transvestites that a friend of a friend--called Sergeant Huggy--had while in the army. The story included quotes like, "Well, I was close, so I finished up." It also contained the gem that went, "At first I'd thought I'd slipped out. Then, I realized I couldn't feel the dick I was grabbing, so I really started to freak out, because I thought I'd broken something."
Afterward, we found out that a friend had teabagged another friend at one point. After I said, "I'm glad I never was in a frat," he said, "This was after college."
Sadly the rest of the weekend was much less funny, but it was still good.
This afternoon, I had the notion that I was most connected to myself while sitting crosslegged on the couch eating something and watching TV. Sure the TVs changed, the food changed, the content changed, the clothes changed, the length of my hair changed, but I was always sitting crosslegged and existing quietly, which is when I'm happiest.
Afterward, I walked into the bathroom and really looked at myself. The clean-cut look with the short blonde hair. The still cobalt blue eyes. The broad shoulders. The decent jeans. The plain black t-shirt. The impeccable grooming. Beyond the surface, I looked at the stillness. I searched for a sign of stress or anxiety or pain, and there was none. Those dark eyes--alternately soulful or baleful depending on who describes them--weren't haunted, weren't troubled. Looking at myself, I realized that I didn't look like I did four years ago or three. I looked like I did ten or fifteen years ago. Before the heartache. Before the disappointment. Before the monumental failures and the broken mind.
And I realized that the past is gone. The guy that I was five years ago is gone. The guy that I was three years ago when I was so hurt and crazed is gone. I'm closest to being nineteen again, but even he is gone.
I felt light, freed of someone I never really wanted to be. Tomorrow, I can be someone new...or perhaps someone slightly old..
At lunch, we discussed the adventures with transvestites that a friend of a friend--called Sergeant Huggy--had while in the army. The story included quotes like, "Well, I was close, so I finished up." It also contained the gem that went, "At first I'd thought I'd slipped out. Then, I realized I couldn't feel the dick I was grabbing, so I really started to freak out, because I thought I'd broken something."
Afterward, we found out that a friend had teabagged another friend at one point. After I said, "I'm glad I never was in a frat," he said, "This was after college."
Sadly the rest of the weekend was much less funny, but it was still good.
This afternoon, I had the notion that I was most connected to myself while sitting crosslegged on the couch eating something and watching TV. Sure the TVs changed, the food changed, the content changed, the clothes changed, the length of my hair changed, but I was always sitting crosslegged and existing quietly, which is when I'm happiest.
Afterward, I walked into the bathroom and really looked at myself. The clean-cut look with the short blonde hair. The still cobalt blue eyes. The broad shoulders. The decent jeans. The plain black t-shirt. The impeccable grooming. Beyond the surface, I looked at the stillness. I searched for a sign of stress or anxiety or pain, and there was none. Those dark eyes--alternately soulful or baleful depending on who describes them--weren't haunted, weren't troubled. Looking at myself, I realized that I didn't look like I did four years ago or three. I looked like I did ten or fifteen years ago. Before the heartache. Before the disappointment. Before the monumental failures and the broken mind.
And I realized that the past is gone. The guy that I was five years ago is gone. The guy that I was three years ago when I was so hurt and crazed is gone. I'm closest to being nineteen again, but even he is gone.
I felt light, freed of someone I never really wanted to be. Tomorrow, I can be someone new...or perhaps someone slightly old..
supremepizzaman:
I think the only thing to cap off this journal is a wicked 360 windmill dunk.