06.18.05 - 12:46 am

most of my best recollections happen on the short drive between wilsonville and tualatin. that pleasant drive down a dark two lane road, with its climax revealing a sparkling mass of urban lights almost obscurred by a frame of solid black trees.

the emotional attachment and curiousity is there. but not the investment.

the room of white with blue lights and red hot chilli pepper cover songs. people were shapes in the dim light and everyone was singing along for a birthday. my birthday. only i was in thailand. and it was december 15th.

tonight she texted me, using her phone as a sonar. she bounced out a signal on my status, i responded and unfortunately wasnt granted the same in return. how flattering.

ben called me tonight. asked me to come meet him at wankers and be his wing man. my mouth tasted gross. i didnt feel like going anywhere. i was waiting to hear back from andi about a movie. one elizabeth about some sushi. another elizabeth about some spare time. none were available and so i programmed myself to watch the history channel until i was too bored to stay awake any longer. fortunately ben called several more times and got me to brush my teeth, find the sucker hidden in my pants and head out to a bar thats constantly filled with people from my past.
that place is like a library. you read a lot of books when you were young, left them to collect dust, and then you go back to that same shelf and still find all the books youd left behind.
viggo mortinson was talking with aaron and bobby when ben came out to greet me. he immediatly attempted to urinate on the front of the building with rocky roxie rocko? opened the door with such disgust in her eyes.

"what the hell do you think youre doing?"

i look to aaron, eyes wide and head shaking. i turn to ben, hes pulling himself together. roxanne is still furious. bens trying desperately to explain what he had been about to do in the most elaborate intoxicated way he was able. utter nonsense. and she was furious.

we go inside and suddenly there they are. wilsonville. the whole goddamn school filling up all the available space. some of them are nice. some of them are attractive. some of them i dispise. some of them look at me knowing they know who i am, but act like they hate me so they dont have to say hi or acknowledge me. some even enthusiastically greet me with their hands or hugs, using my full name as an exclaimation point. most of these people i could only remember as nameless underclassmen. i had a good time though. as brief my stay was before ben broke an entire bottle of miller genuine draft all over the floor, tripped and ran into several others, and otherwise made himself very unnecessary. i took him home, watched him puke in his yard, saw his mom in her undergarments and set up his room for him to recover in. hes a good kid, be easy on him. its his second day as an adult.

and i listened to necromantix.

those people. those damn faces. all that alcohol. highschool was meant to be relived. over and over again. at least in my fantasies it is.