Last Night

Last night I drove to Shan’s new place. It was cold, threatingly rainy looking, and I was wearing flip-flops. Also, 40 or so Army recruits were running. I chased them all the way down Wilson Boulevard, and then got a little creeped as I noticed the pack was all running to SHAN’s house! Actually, they were just meeting a van in her parking lot. Military.

We went to Vienna, and drank someone else’s Miller Lite, and talked to old college faces. We were shown the sign on the refrigerator. (Kegorator instructions: 1. Pull down tap. Wait .5 seconds. 2. If you do not wait .5 seconds, this will result in a up full of foam, both embarrassing and tragic!) We sat in the back yard and one of the trees was shedding white flowers, which made it look like snow in May. We left.

After I dropped Shan off, I went home and watched 48 Hours, ate some Maple Brown Sugar oatmeal (as if there is any other kind worth consuming!)

B. called. We had a 2 hour heart to heart. AmeriCorps has him in Maine right now (Quote: Everyone I work with is crazy, they’ve driven me to chain smoking and I am considering learning to speak squirrel so I don�t have to talk to them) We sat, hundreds of miles away, him chain smoking and me unraveling pajama-bottom hems. We talked about� everything and nothing and pizza and love and I told him how happy I was, and he told me he was happy I was happy.

And I told him I was happy he was happy I was happy.

Anyways, it was great to talk to him, and we are on good terms and offer each other all we really have, which happens to be calling cards and smiles that travel over phone lines.

I love being friends. Also, we came up with good porn names for ourselves should we decide to change careers, but that is neither here nor there.

How Do You Want to Die?

I also spent last night re-reading Generation X. For those of you who haven’t read this book: you know that it’s, like, you and only one other person who have never read it, right? Anyways, they talk about how they want to die, and for years I’ve stolen a passage from another Coupland book (Shampoo Planet) as my own answer. Driving in a sports car naked, 110 mph with the windows down, somewhere in a desert, while listening to German industrial, crashing into a huge fireball. I’m still kind of down with this idea, it sounds exactly like the way MattWithTwoT’s would want to go. But I’m thinking of other ways too.

For years I’ve had these weird little dream-like things I haven’t told anyone about. I honestly think it stems from a past life, but who knows about things like that. I have never been to Mexico. The idea of Mexico both frightens and intrigues me. I think I’d like the country, but the mere mention of it kind of scares me. Other countries do not get this reaction.

I think I once died in Mexico.

And, I decided, I think I want to go that way again. In Mexico. Jumping off a cliff. Because I think I can fly. And everything is orange and brown and hot.

PS: Ben Brown of web fame is now working for The Man. Welcome to the party, Ben! Sit back, grab a cocktail or two (Molotov or otherwise) and we’ll chat. No fear, I’ve got the clearance.

Pray for us.


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