it's 5:33 am, on January 04, 2002 - the pedestrian and the caravan.

~

I realized that, in roughly three hours, it would be too late to write Mel's holiday story, because I would be back at school and no longer on holidays.

I also realized that, I couldn't let this happen, not when I'd reread all about Col and Bragg and, yeah. I got a parcel from Cathy, and a book plus letter from Doqz that proves, Doqz is part of the band, and Cathy knows what kind of candy I like. Also got a parcel from Ali, a few days ago, that proves that karma does wonders, since Bruce Chatwin used to go to gay clubs and get anal-fisted, and he wrote about life as a travellin' man.

This is my way of praying, and giving, thanks.

~*~

Most of my friends are very fruity indeed
Such fun to have around.
Terror, like charity, begins at home.
Chris don't like madness
But madness likes him
He's got a finger in his chest
yeah he's saying how it should have been.

~*~

Chris sometimes has a tribe of one.

They're away on vacation, all of them, and he's home in Orlando, in his mother's house, sleeping in his own bedroom and thinking about going back to work. Maybe soon.

It's a few days after New Years. His vacation is soon to be at an end -- he wants back in the studio, even if the rest of the guys are loving time off.

He misses them. He misses having Justin's eyes on him, knowing that he wants a break, knowing what he's thinking, every moment of every day. He misses Lance's sniping, he misses Joey's snoring, almost, even. He misses JC. He wants them to be here, always here, and Chris sniffles a little bit, as he reads the paper and drinks wine in front of his fireplace.

His vacation's almost over, and he learned what this year? That fame is a lot of work, a lot of fucking work, and that no one really speaks his language unless they're Justin, or JC, or Joey, or even Lance, and no one else.

His mother comes in. "Chris, there's a phone call for you."

It's Justin, and without pretence Justin says, "I'm going crazy, here."

Chris smiles wide, in relief. "Why don't we go get dinner or something, then? I'm just sitting here waiting for the rest of my life to pass me by, y'know, so I can pencil you in."

"Gracious of you." He can hear Justin grinning. "I'll pick you up in an hour."

He missed them terribly, even if they're in the same city. He hasn't seen Justin in over a week, and it's too long by far. Chris says, "I fucking missed you," and is insanely grateful when Justin says,

"Yeah, me too." Chris finishes his glass of wine, and stops drinking.

Sometimes he has a tribe of one. Mostly though, the phone rings before he thinks it too long.

~*~

I don't have much else to say; I have three hours to sleep, and Mel just downloaded the Atlantis medley, which gives me a happy, but that's about it. Mad heartfelt hugs go to Cathy and Ali and Doqz because they reminded me that in the end, I'm going to have a tribe to travel with, whether I don't now or not.

I have to call JB and Dex and figure out when they want me to fly into Toronto; also should email Ali and tell her I'm coming in. The pedestrian.

My sister dyed her hair blond-- she does a passable Shakira imitation now. Again, the pedestrian.

Thinking about the mountains as they smoke: not so pedestrian.

~

-

what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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