July 19th, 2005

Coffee Squirrel

Enjoying the Greatness

Hi. What are you doing right now? Nothing much? Well. Pull out your credit card or debit card for me. Go to a website that lets you buy movie tickets. Tell them you want one ticket -- or two if you're lucky enough to have a friend nearby to go with -- for "Me and You and Everyone We Know". Just do it. A woman walking out said that she didn't enjoy it. This endeared the movie to me even more. She didn't seem like she was someone who had ever had her world rocked, metaphysically speaking. Click for a spoiler. Don't click if you don't want it spoiled. But see this movie. After the spoiler, a few more words.

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I was breathing and watching things after the movie. I felt so good. So relieved, as if I wasn't alone. Sad. A movie does this to me. I have no life -- but I *do*! I have an internal life. This internal life is important to me. It took me ages to construct the convoluted mythos, the special codes, the symbology. I've spent more than 20 years feeling like I was in a sensory deprivation tank -- nobody pings back. No wonder I feel sex-starved. I wondered if my words, when I spoke, were real or if I were having some sort of auditory halucination. They made no impact anywhere else. Even today -- just a week or two ago -- I was standing less than five feet from a hostess at the St. Clair Broiler. She ignored me and went to seat the people behind me. I am invisible at times. Her boss corrected her and the family that was about to be seated before was polite. The point was well-taken, though. I also know that my words don't *have* to mean anything to her.

Eric's like the buddy in the cell next to mine. We tap on the walls and whisper to each other. I'm glad I met him. I'm glad we met again ten years after high school.

I wanted so badly to touch the tall, pretty boy who sat next to me on the bus. He's got dark, wavy hair and broad shoulders and slouches a lot. He usually sits across from me. He must go to the U of M. I know his stop. I carefully stare at him. I try not to be conspicuous. I wonder if he knows. I wonder why today he chose to sit next to me rather than across from me. Perhaps he knew I was staring and got tired of being looked at and coveted. I wanted so badly just to "accidentally" press my index finger to his forearm. I wanted to know what his skin felt like. I wonder if this might be the start of something -- just his changing where he sat on the bus. You see how pathetic I am? There was a turn the bus took along Huron and Washington. It was kind of sharp and I was hoping against hope that it would force my arm next to his. It didn't. Maybe tomorrow.

Somebody saw us, though! After the movie, Eric and I were standing. We had about fifteen minutes before the bus came. A guy walked past. He said: "Now I *know* there's a great story here!" He asked how we were. Then he just looked at us and grinned. "Sorry," he said, walking away. "Just enjoying the greatness!" I felt a rush. I knew the feeling. I get it when I look at almost anyone: "Just enjoying the greatness!"

There was a meme yesterday. You know? There are actually three people in this state I can't get out of my head. Three is a magic number. Three of them. And they each have my undivided attention -- if that makes sense. Not that it matters to them. That's fine, though. I'm enjoying the greatness.
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