Send via SMS

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" he said.
She stared at him blankly, pretending she had forgotten in the first place. And then, pretending to remember, she said "I called you over because I remembered that I had borrowed this DVD from you forever ago and I didnt want it anymore."
"You called me over because of that?"
"And also, I dont think that this relationship is working out."
He tried to pretend he had not seen it coming. "You dont think its working out?"
"I think relationships are like sharks, they have to keep moving or they will die. And I think we have a dead shark."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It's from a Woody Allen movie."
"Which one?"
"I dont remember."
"So we have a dead shark?"
"Yeah I think so."
"And it is deffinetly dead? No form of maritime artificial resussitation can save it?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Ok."
He stood up from the chair and took the DVD from her hands. It was his favorite, and even though he missed it during its absence, he took a strange kind of comfort in knowing it was at her place all along.
"So... goodbye," he said.
"Yeah, I'll see you around probably."
"Ok."
They hugged each other, and, thanks to a brilliant last minute head turn, he kissed her on the cheek.
In the stairwell of her apartment building he let out a tremendous sigh, feeling completely neutral about the brief exchange he had just escaped from. He walked down the stairs carefully, trying not to make noise. He buttoned his coat and walked into the freezing cold January night.

She watched him from the bedroom window of her apartment, shivering pathetically as he trudged through the snow back down the street. When he disappeared around the next corner, she fell onto her bed and cried for an hour and a half.

The snow was thick on the sidewalk, and still falling from the sky. The city always did a lousy job clearing the sidewalks after a big storm, he thought. After climbing seven flights of stairs (no elevator) he unlocked the door and walked into his apartment, where it was warm and it smelled like him. He turned around and started to lock the door, but then changed his mind and left it open instead.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

What is it about the north? Maybe the cold, the snow, the way starring at endless expanses covered in white oblivion can kill your heart and maim your soul? Well, whatever it is, its certainly good at keeping cute girls away. A whole week here, and I have yet to see one girl with short hair, brown eyes or even horn rimmed glasses. No one wearing converse all stars (frankly, it is too cold, even for the cutest of shoes), no vintage track jackets, no pea coats and no cute hats with a little flower on it.

I found a show this weekend, it is a high school band that is playing at a bowling alley (yeah, I'm desperate). But it's supposed to be the gathering place for every emo kid in the tri-county area (so maybe 6 people will show, not including the bowlers). Maybe there will be cute girls? Who knows. What is certain is that even if there are cute girls there, they will be in high school. They will not be 22, they will not obsess about how messy their rooms are, they will not be former prom queens, they will not have amazing apartments, they will not look cute while sleeping, and they will not be named kaitlyn.