This is NOT Over

Friday September 29, 1989 Revolution, Romanticism and Romance?!?!

I did not experience a hangover this morning after drinking all that wine at Tradition. However, I believe that at some point during the night I died and was reincarnated as pain itself.

Participated in a “Revolution & Romanticism” discussion and Prof. L did not look at me like I was a fucking idiot.

I bet he doesn’t swear, even in his brain.

I wrote a song that would be a better title for a book, but I don’t write books. Hell, I don’t read enough books to write books and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Maybe I should be honest about this. I didn’t even buy my books for this semester. I photocopied some of the readings from friends because books cost money. One of my friends showed me that by inserting a copy card in one of the NIU copy machines, running the card down to one copy, unplugging the machine with the card still inside and then plugging it back in, you would have the same number of copies on your card as when you began the process. I’m sure glad that I didn’t buy any textbooks this semester that talk about entropy, how matter is neither created nor destroyed, or that we live in a world where must preserve our precious, limited resources.

I have free photocopies for life.

I was a waste of life most of the day. Went to Sgt. Pepper’s with Chris and Erica and then we had ice cream. It was like it was somebody’s birthday. That’s one of the things I love about college. It feels like it’s somebody’s birthday all the time.

Then we went to a party at Mike M’s and I don’t know if it was somebody’s birthday, but it felt that way. It was cool in spite of Jim and Ron’s artsy fartsy friends. I shouldn’t call them fartsy. I’m sure not one of them had ever farted in their entire life. By the way, even though I mock Jim and Ron’s artsy friends, I really like Jim and Ron.

There was a guitar player there. He was left handed and played a nylon string, classical acoustic dealy. These details are not as important as they sound. We played a song later that night asking Jesus to:

come back down here
and turn all our Tang to beer
don’t worry we won’t be astronauts
and find out how you ain’t up there
or anywhere

Maybe that’s why I’m not in a band right now.

Women were everywhere at this wing ding. Dee Ann, Sue C., Susan S., and like three other girls that I’m sure I have been in lust with since you know who busted my heart to pieces. I had a great time talking to all of them. I could actually talk since I only drank two beers and a glass of wine all night. See, when I’m hangover drinking I’m a lot more civilized.

I left w/ E`{` and that’s something I wanted to do for a long time. Out of all those girls, she’s the only one I was in lust with while I was still with you know who. See, I sound like I am pretty fucked up, and quite frankly I am very fucked up, but every so often I get it together enough to get it right.

Tonight was one of those nights. We left at 3AM because everyone who was being obnoxious was waiting for me to be obnoxious-er. Sadly I understand that is sort of an expectation I drag around.

Someone whispered to me that there was a tank of nitrous-O next door but I am always afraid those things are going to explode. I have nothing to base that on other than I am usually high as shit and paranoid when I am around them.

I was nice to the dedicated party goers but made an excuse and didn’t make it look like I was trying to leave to stick it to Miss E`{`. For some reason I care about her reputation even though I don’t give a good goddamn about my own.

I actually waited until she was almost gone until I made my excuse. I let her get going out the kitchen and down the back steps of Mike’s apt. before I hustled out of there and offered to walk her home.

We walked by the lagoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. No room for clouds. There were too many stars.

The stars were too gorgeous to be believed. I was so into the stars and the night sky that I forgot who the hell I was. I gave E`{` my coat. I’m not sure I’ve ever done something like that before.

She was beautiful.

Nothing happened.

That’s not true. A crazy looking goose came out from behind a rock and hissed at us. I wanted to kill that piece of shit but I was with a lady of discriminating taste, or at least a lady that did not want to see an idiot kill a goose with his bare hands.

We talked about the legend of some guy on this campus who once hung a famous goose. We both understood how a person would come to hang a goose. They are miserable sons of bitches. Anyone who does not think so has never lived among them as we have.

Where was I?

She was beautiful.

Her red, curly/wirey hair poked my arm as I put my coat around her neck.

Ok, that doesn’t sound beautiful but it happened. It’s real, man.

Maybe Miss E`{` isn’t that beautiful. Her skin is kind of pale and she has a lot of freckles. Maybe E`{` has too many freckles for a 20 year old. But my life has sucked for some time now. I have been attracted to this girl for two years and she never paid me much notice until tonight.

This walk home past the water, saying bad things about geese has been in the works for some time now. It has been written in the stars or something like that. You could write War and Peace with all the fucking stars that were out on our romantic fucking walk.

I’m not sure you could call it romantic. We didn’t hold hands or kiss or anything. We didn’t even look at each other that much. I walked her back to her apartment on College Street and she invited me inside.

We talked and talked and talked. We talked about David Bowie, David Byrne and Peter David (the comic book writer). We agreed that we liked these Davids and that was swell.

We did not kiss.

I did not get boob.

I did not get to 1st Base, wherever that is. I still don't understand the whole baseball/sex thing. Is there an infield fly rule euphemism? How about one for the double-switch? Stupid National League. Anyway, I'll probably never know.

But I didn't even step in the batter's box of sex if you will.

I was just sort of talking to the hitting instructor. No need to rush anything. I’m sure I’ll be able to do it with someone soon enough if I want sex. That’s nice. Again, it’s college so its like someone’s birthday all the time with a 37% chance of sex no matter how many people you know in a given place. That’s a helluva lot better than high school was (for me anyways). I’ve had plenty of you know what with you know who over the past two years, or at least until she dumped me last summer.

Where did that get me?

It bought me a bucket full of self-loathing and a headache.

If E`{` wants to invite me over to her apartment in the wee hours of the morning and talk with me and then make me breakfast she deserves better than some guy trying to put it in her.

We ate breakfast and afterward I looked at the clock in the kitchen. I told her I had to work at the stupid front desk this morning and it was a long walk back. I asked her if she had one of those Air Force jet packs around. She said, “I’m not going to let you borrow it Ed. You’re a nice guy and if you crashed into the Student Center or the lagoon and killed yourself, I’d be heartbroken.”

I fought every instinct I had not to try and kiss her right there. I left.

I left at 8am!

Stupid work at stupid 10am.

I am in the process of abandoning all my previous obsessions in order to embrace this new and far more wonderful one.

We'll see where that gets me.