| He sits there with an air otherworldly impartiality that can only be summed up to the fact that he is either on drugs or burned out. He doesn't wear sunglasses, instead he prefers for all that come into contact with him to stare into the dead, darkend, sunken eyes of his- shit brown and red it is obvious he doesn't sleep. His coat covers him heavily, like a weight, a blanket of sorts too big for his frame and when he tries to bundle up to keep whatever warmth his small frame can keep he asks "Is it me or is it cold in this fucking diner man? Don't people believe in heat?" another sigh and he wants to smoke, even goes for a back of ciggarettes tucked in the inner pocket of his peacoat but remembers no smoking indoors, so says the sign against the window we're sitting at- a reminder to the civiliains that Chicago has an indoor band and he will have to go outside, 50 ft from the entrance in order to take a drag, drags, inhalations. Defeat washes his brown face with a quickness, so he pulls his beanie down over his face and sighs deeply,
"Dude, what do you need," he asks his face being muffled "I'm running low on everything so please don't try and go rich suburban white kid on me and buy all my stash."
"Calm down," I respond after sipping my cold coffee "I just need the usual, and you know what that is."
"Yeah man, I know, Xanax, Weed, dude maybe I don't know what is it that you need?" he is confused, painfully, he does not want to be here with me let alone in public, his voice drones and it sounds like he wants to die or just sleep
"Have you slept at all man," I ask him "You sound, and look like you're close to death. Real ghoulish. Who the fuck are you? Svenghoulie or something?"
"Not funny," his hat still covers his face and thus he resembles an urban ninja "I don't sleep at night, I can't, my clock is fucked."
"Get it back on track?"
"If it was that easy don't you think I would man? Its like my body can operate without sleep, but at the expense of making me look crazy. I feel like death man, its not even funny. Everything moves so slowly for me. DO you know what I do in the time you people are sleeping..."
"No, enlighten me"
"
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| No amount of alcohol, no stolen holiday, will make me feel less lonely then I am. The entire time I realized that either way it goes I will always, always be thinking of you.
Heres to the memory.
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| I decided to make a zine based on my experiences, but I plan on only using relevant stories. I'm going to title it " of " and it'll be subtitled too but I haven't figured out the subtitle yet. We'll see.
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| Abridged version-
First real week of College, right before school started I made some good friends. One of these friends invited a homie from home to hang out for the weekend. I was the new guy to the group so of course I jumped at the chance to entertain the guest. Needless to say we spent all of the night flirting and being sexually suggestive towards each other until she literally pounced on me later in the night when we were alone (somehow). In some random road I explored drunk bj lane, missionary city and "I'm drunk and still wanna fuck" avenue. 15 minutes later (ha!) we erupted back to our friends only to disappear again shortly after and experiment with other sexual acts that I just don't want to talk about.
In thought I don't know why I did it. I was horny, I hadn't had sex in three years and some girl wanted me. I felt different then how I felt in high school (which is generally unwanted, but hey different story for a different time..) so I jumped on it. I felt a little empty the next day because she didn't really matter in my sexual history, and I made a promise to myself not to have sex until the time was right and I broke that at the first introduction to Whiskey & Rum.
We don't talk much anymore.
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| I'm sorry all the entries are so fast paced. I'd go into further detail of the memories but I feel like any attempt to butter them up or make them more than they are will cheapen them. So as strained and straight as they are, that is the way they have to be. Sorry.
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