I'm rereading myself and am entirely jealous of all the stuff I had to write about. So I'm going to try to write like that now.
Tiny Dancer is playing and I only had to download it five times before I got an actual copy instead of the "fuck you, buy the cd" version. Elton John is relevant; he was playing on the radio in Anne's tank of a station wagon when we went to the rave in the avocado field deep in the hills of Santa Barbara. I fell asleep within two hours of the celebration of the meteor shower, but not before Josh had a chance to give me a piggy-back ride and try to get me to dance. That was the night we went to Carrow's and I had a waffle and couldn't eat it. I was completely in love with Josh, the way you love someone when all you want is to be loved. The way you'd love anyone who gives you a piggy-back ride.
I'm taking Aaron dancing tomorrow whether he likes it or not. I've been going through Bang withdrawal since I left Santa Barbara, but one minute of Ladytron's Playgirl and I'm back on the stage, making eyes with whomever will make eyes with me, always looking for the be-spectacled Adam who never showed up even though he promised he would. Last I heard, he's in San Francisco now. I've been looking for you. I thought I saw you at the Hemlock, but maybe that was just some other Jewish kid who thought I looked like someone he'd known in a former life.
My stepdad played Jeff Buckley's version of Hallelujah and made me think of Derrick, who might be coming to stay with us for awhile. I told him he could only come if he was clean. But I can never tell if people are sober or not. I finally figured out that the reason I never knew that my dad was drunk is because I didn't know him sober. I didn't know that the way his breath smelled could be anything other than the pungent aroma of beer. I didn't know that the glassey look in his eyes was avoidable.
There's no reason for me to be anything other than utterly magnificent. I don't know why I can't conquer things like shyness and the complete inability to speak in the presence of someone I don't already trust.
My dad played Mozart for us this morning while he and Karen served us brunch. That was nice. And I think my mom's finally come to terms with the fact that Aaron is a semi-permanent part of my life at this point. And I don't need to overanalyze everything.
Do you remember where you were the first time you heard the Faint?