it's 4:20 am, on October 21, 2001 - wasted in the middle of the night.
~
Um, okay. It's quarter past one in the morning, here, pacific standard time. I almost bought a plane ticket to Baltimore -- hey, Counting Crows are playing 'raining in baltimore' in my ear right now -- and um, I've slept so much the last few days. I don't want to go to school, or work on school, or, or.
This feels like one of those post-just-to-post entries that claire says she makes all the time and really, they mean more.
It got dark at six thirty at night today, and I wanted to ask, 'where did the summer go'? I should probably read a book, get off the computer and do something useful, productive, real. I might go downstairs and watch 'dune', except, I'll have to do something else while I'm doing so. Maybe make Latin cards.
Doqz got his book. He's going to have a hell of a time translating the latin in it; I suck.
I want to work on getting more--
~*~
It's not quarter to four, and I've completely forgotten what I was going to say, there. I've been reading helen, and she's saying things like:
Fuck, there's something wrong with me, he thought, especially when Justin was having a very noisy and tearful fight with Britney on the phone in the back of the bus, saying something about how it wasn't all about sex.
It was kind of sick, he thought, like maybe he should get some new hobbies, or something.
And also: Chris would think, fuck it, anyway, that someday they would start talking, and buy a dishwasher and go on vacation in the French Alps and talk about love and everything else, but not now. Not now.
See, that's the end. And I can't decide whether that's, cute and realistic, or just, whether it's sad. Because it's sad.
See, I understand, I understand. I can't get out of it, myself, and I understand. God. Um. Okay, let's make this more cohesive and coherent, and also, more interesting.
River told me to update my fucking journal one of those quickie times we were both on AIM. I listen. I try. I almost bought a ticket to Baltimore tonight -- did I say that up there, already? -- I'm feeing the restlessness that means, no, no, no. No, he chanted. No.
I can't quote Al like I used to.
Looking back over what I wrote before now, I ended with, "I want to work on getting more--"
I think, now that we're talking about Al, I'd like to disclaim that, since she says I disclaim things. See, I don't really want to work on getting more -- getting closer, or, getting friendlier, or, getting more work done, or, getting more money, or getting more anything. Some days I can barely remember what it's like to be an adult; this should be worrying, except. Not now.
Not now, you know. Just, there is so much to need.
~*~
I'm going to, I'm going to. What am I going to do.
I'm bored, really. I, I. Want.
But. Not now. Not, not.
"Chris, do you wanna--"
Chris's voice is distant, even though Joey's sure that Chris would never notice, deny it if Joey mentioned it. Chris says, "no, um," and he looks away, really embarrassed, probably. "Not now, kay?"
Joey knows it means, 'not you' even if Chris doesn't and doesn't answer. He's glad he's not in love with Chris, because even if Chris was a little in love, he wasn't totally in love, because he was getting some. Chris was only interested if no one else was. that's why Justin's curls got him, why maybe even lance might get a piece of Chris, once and a while.
Not, Joey slept with him, yeah. But Chris, he.
Joey stood up, mumbling, "so, you don't wanna,"
and Chris looked up, mouth twisting some way that Joey couldn't read, and chris said, "um" and then Joey left, because Chris fucked himself up, it wasn't anything that Joey did. Chris was probably too embarrassed to admit it. He was like that. He never asked for anything so he didn't really ever get it unless it fell into his lap, and that kind of thing, he never *knew* he wanted, even if deep down, he did.
~*~
I wish I was going to baltimore.
--I sent an email to Al, yesterday I think, or, a few days ago, and it had this in it:
Justin looks at Chris, in the bathroom mirror, and something in him says, 'you are the one I'm looking for'. Justin gulps, suddenly, and remembers nothing of anything of something he wanted. He wanted Chris, he's sure of it. Chris wanted, his face, and Justin stares at himself, seeing something, and then looks at Chris, watching him, and spits toothpaste in the sink.
Chris says, "are you ready?" and justin doesn't nod, but he follows him anyway. Justin has been sure of what he wanted since he was ten years old. He just never wanted to get it quite so completely, and Chris reminds him of it when he bites his neck and moans against him and closes his eyes instinctively as Justin sinks down, down, down, and uses his mouth in that most basic of instincts. The smell is like the bathroom mirror; they have to clean the bus out soon.
*
Chris is sad because he knows something of what justin sees. He's old, over thirty, jesus christ, he can't believe it, and he thinks he knows what he wants and what they've got, and that they're the same, it's not comforting anymore because Justin doesn't say 'I love you' because he's afraid.
Sometimes Chris strokes Justin's cheek before bed, and sometimes he wonders what's going to happen when they don't see each other anymore, whether things will fade out and whether Justin knows they will.
~*~
Fuck.
I think I'll pull out... maybe... Sermons and Soda Water, from the bookshelf. Maybe I'll quote you something from John O'Hara; I don't know whether he's a good writer or not, I discovered him by accident, but really, I enjoy him. I do. I had to order this book especial because they'd stopped printing it.
..I can't find the quote, but it goes, 'you get over love. You don't get over this.' I don't know why I'm feeling that right now.
I've been reading Stuart all night, too, and even though it was an eventually happy stuart, it didn't do me any good. I've read and watched everything too many times over; I don't have the patience.
--I remember what I was going to say. I wrote an email to Alestar, that had that bit of chris/justin in it, but it also said, "I don't want to start every sentence with 'I' right now." And I think I succeeded, somewhat, but, damn.
It's a habit I should break.
//I was wasted in the afternoon, gettin' on a train//
you know, I don't think I'll ever, be that. I stopped reading 'on the road' right in the middle. I, I. I won't ever do, those things. hoc. those things.
I miss the desert.
~*~
Okay, but, um, disclaimer number two-- I'm feeling fine, good, right now, because I found good justin/chris love. it might not last, but right now. Um. Yeah.
~
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