Yikes. Three turned into day four, and as Rob and I were unable to meet up before his flight out due to traffic and forest fires and a car rental agency snafu, i went back to sleep. The Stray and I arose late in the afternoon on a mission to find speakers for my shit computer (as he'd been screening rap battles the last couple evenings and some of the vids sound are crap, and my laptop speakers are toast too) he suggested a pawn shop on Pike on the Hill, and so off we went.I hadn't been in a pawn shop in a while, and certainly not one in hipster central...so after i spent $15 bux on some portable speakers, i couldn't help but troll the guitars. X was outside (it's totally not his gig) having a smoke, and i looked around, found a well-worn SG (gonna guess early '90s maybe) for $845. But I didn't even hesitate to take it off the rack and play it. I looked at a couple of basses, looked at some Fenders (just for kicks) and then left, full of malaise and longing.
That, however was crushed by a suggestion to hit Beth's for food (our first of the day) - so we cruised out to 99, and ate omlettes in the emptiest Beth's I've ever been in. Our server was groovy though, and we had some fun, even got the crayons to do a couple drawings. i did my usual smiley drunk punk face, elaborated a bit in style and captioned it "So. Many. Eggs"
He did a cool little hip-hop skull thing, that I dug so much i shoved it in my bag, which seemed to wig him out. It's hard cause my apartment is so empty he can't see how much stuff I accumulate in terms of personal keepstakes.
It's in a weird spot right at the moment, he and I. Me, because there are aspects to what is going on that I recognize and are a wasteful. I am walking a thin line between Shayesque excess, and some sort of weird understanding that even though the action is great - it's already changed, and I may have been too honest too soon, but it's strange. For him, it's surely a case of digging me intellectually, and in a physically compatible way, but not in an "in love" way. And again, as I have come to accept, it is because of how I look. And understandably, this kid can rock any hottie he wants. It would be full-on Harold and Maude (or worse, Graham and Sharon-type) shit otherwise, right?
Dunno. More for the hardcopy journal, and maybe that other spot I write sometimes.
Anyway, the bite at Beth's was good, and another successful run to an old spot to purge ghosts (that's why I like Supernatural so much, is because my life in the last months has been pure demon slaying and ghost encounters). Then we cut over to Ravenna, to pick up coffee beans and, of course, beer. He wasn't gonna stay, in fact, he really needed to hit the road, but came back again anyway. We drank, set up the speakers, watched more of his, and then he finally asked to see some Doctor Who, and so we watched the first couple of episodes until his roommate called as he was getting off work to give him a ride back to the boondocks.Oh, I also did his laundry. Cause i'm like that.
Anyway, it's all a bit weird, and still silence from SG, so I suppose the worst case scenario has in fact unfolded, but, I just can't worry about it much anymore. I'm so unsure how to feel in this situation - so amazingly scared to act on my instincts, unless all my barriers are down via chemicals, which isn't making stuff better, ultimately. Anyway, back to work tomorrow finally.
Oh, and got the job offer from GMB at new place with benefits, 401k, and a raise of a buck and a half, but i'm just not into fucking changing jobs again, starting over again. being in a closed kitchen, again. So, i'm gonna piss him off and say no. But I just want the crazy autonomy of what i've got now, cause i think i can grow it once i get a routine down. Routine. And what would help that? yeah,
not partying until 6am with the busboy.
Crap.
