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2001-12-25 || 10:12 a.m. || destination san diego || i get off the train in solana beach. i don't see him anywhere. i walk up the platform and back down again. this is the boy wo used to hide behind trash cans at the airport. this is the boy who, after i had lost all hope and started to make my way out of the airport resigned to taking the bus home, would follow me with a newspaper up around his head and catch up just as i was about to go outside, just as i was going to get very sad that the boy i loved wasn't picking me up from the airport. m bland. he is at the other end of the platform and we run toward each other a bit in that shampoo commercial way. his hair is longer, raggedy, and he is wearing the mblandy uniform of plaid button down shirt, monogrammed v neck sweater, brown corduroy pants. the signature black chemistry teacher glasses and hush puppies. m bland. we hug and hug and hug and walk arm and arm to the car, stopping every once in a while to hug more. this is my best friend, you know. this is the boy i have shared everything with, who used to dress up in my sweaters and drive me down hills on the primavera at night. we are driving in his mom's car to the beach. we are singing made up songs and laughing very hard and exchanging rapidfire information. i am asking questions and trying to get to the bottom of things and i think he is all right. i was very worried he was depressed but here, driving down south coast highway, pointing to all the places we have been to together, he is in high spirits, he is laughing out the moon roof window (very odd to see m bland driving a shiny new car ((his mum's)). ). we get out of the car and link arms while walking down hills, singing loud renditions of christmas songs. we sit on a bench at the beach and paint pictures for one another. and this is how it is supposed to be. i am shoving him off the bench and he is stealing kisses. i am relaying gossip and he is telling me about his fabulous crafty garage in portland, that it has rained for forty days, that he misses san farncisco very very much. we go to my sissy's apartment. she is making christmas presents so we pile up on the couch, arms and arms and legs and legs and syncopated breathing. she is playing us songs and her cats are swarming and it is lovely, in this heated apartment in san diego, with my best friendlies, with no holes or long distances. anthony comes home and becky and sean have come over. anthony and kelly are exchanging presents. a is hugging kelly emphatically for the leatherman. they are sitting and hugging against the far wall and i am getting that feeling, the time machine feeling? where for a second i am able to pull away and record what i am seeing for further reference. christmas time, 2001: i am twenty-five. there are empty beer bottles, skateboarding magazines, art books, sewing things, a half empty very large bootle of vodka on the table. we are sitting on couches. anthony has his head perched on kelly's shoulder. these things are important to us: this beatles album in mono, the lord of the rings cups from burger king (?) that light up, late night burritos because we are all starving, the wondrousness of leatherman. remember this, please. at twenty-five this is what you did. you were absolutely thrilled with the silliest of things. you love these people very much. it feels better with blandy around, more complete. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |