Picking up a meme from CapitolSwell I had to go deep into the recesses of my mind to remember both the first and the last. The first, because it was so long ago. The last, because I don’t remember buying CDs anymore.
First: The Beastie Boys, License to Ill
Last: Thievery Corporation, Radio Retaliation
When I was a wee lass living on Cedarhurst Drive, I had a birthday party in which I received a model kit of the USS New Jersey. It was an easy thing to assemble, and I loved to look at it and play with it with my army men.
One day my older brother got the HMS Hood as a model kit. I have no idea why. So we tried to put it together, but failed miserably. We didn’t understand the concept of glue. The hull never stayed together properly as we tried to assemble it. Then we hit on a brilliant plan. (I would like to say he did, but I have to include myself as a source of blame in this dunce affair.) We decided to melt the plastic together. For this, we used matches.
“Hold the hull together,” he said, “while I hold the match underneath it and melt the two sides.” Brilliant last words.
As you can tell, it turned into a disaster. The flame burned through the plastic putting a big hole in the hull. My brother became so mad at the outcome that he snatched the model from my hands and snapped it in two.
There went our model ship building craze as we knew that we didn’t have the patience to build one.
Yet, thirty years later, I feel like building model ships. Here’s a link to one that would be cool. I guess I have to learn what modeling is all about.
http://www.hlj.com/product/FUJ42145
Historical footnote: the HMS Hood was sunk in naval combat with the German battleship, Bismark, on May 24, 1941.
Hey, it’s my fourth anniversary of blogging on BrowserMetrics! There’s a lot to read for all you newbies, but let’s look back on how it was with my first post. After that, check out the archives. Hopefully, you’ll find them amusing.
This is not a dream.
But I have been having them these last few days. Most likely due to the fact that I am really trying to get my self up early and by just thinking about it, I wander in the nether-dreamworld that occurs minutes before my eyes open. When they do, my most delicious of dreams are just that, dreams.
This is all prelude to me again writing what occurred in them here. And S is in them both. (Here we go again.)
I’m back working in Rubys. I think we both are. We’re chatting across the bar. The bartender is there as well. We’re flirting with each other. As the bartender, restocks the bar with beer. I take her by the hand. I think I kiss it. I wake up and it’s Tuesday at 6:15.
I’m at my friends house. We’re waiting for the party to start. S shows up. With some guy friend. I go up stairs and play guitar with my buddy. I go find S. She’s in the dining room drinking beer. I go find S. She’s on the porch, lounging in a chair, looking every bit as sexy as I remembered. Those feet of hers shod in sneakers, propped up on a table. She’s wearing capris and a white blouse. I spy her there through the windows in the door and the entryway. She’s talking with some guy. I end up outside. My friend tells me that Petit Louis closed at the location across from his house. They’ve gone franchise and can be found all over Baltimore. He says they converted the church across the street into a Rubys. I wake up and it’s Wednesday at 6:30.
UPDATE: This is my all time favorite photo of Gillian Anderson. She’s so yummy in this.
So I finally looked in the box. Rather than read the letters addressed to her, I rooted around and found some other letters from friendships past.
I find a few from my good friend Akeshia. She loved Sweden before I even knew where it was. I received a few postcards from her study abroad year.
There’s one from Rob exhorting me to get out of town. Funny that one.
There’s also a few from Simon. I wonder if he’s dead now and his magisterial poetry lives on.
I wish I knew where they all were now. I lost touch with them so long ago. On the placemats in chinese restaurants, the chinese zodiac description of the boar says that I’ll have life long friends. They say horoscopes are phony and filled with descriptions that’ll apply to almost anyone. This is one I wish it did.
Rooting around mom’s house this weekend and found the box that I kept some of my keepsakes. Pictures of her. Pictures of friends — high school, college. Letters from her. Letters from friends — high school, college.
I wanted to read those letters. I haven’t yet. I don’t remember what they say. It’ll scare me because of the memories and the feelings.
This box is a feeling time IED set to explode and take me away.
Here’s one I had which woke me up early this morning. Don’t do an analysis on this one. She’s not in it. Or if she was I am trying not to remember. Anyway it is more of a strange dream. I don’t know what it means.
I’m back in school at the U for only one class and all my favorite peopele are in it. There’s the gang from Shore Studios. There’s my cousin who’s also my roomate. There’s the hot Jamaican chinese girl. THere’s some others.
The class is some kind of writing class or a literature class.
THe first class goes by. We have a discussion. I take notes on the back of a receipt.
I am sitting in the back. At the end of the class we get to order food and drinks.
I am going to the next class following some frat guys with no shoes. I wonder why they think themselves to be cool without any shoes on.
The next class I want to get close to the hot Jamaican chinese girl so I sit up front. I place my notebook on my desk to save it and go out to the bathroom. I follow the hot Jamaincan chinese girl in. She takes my spot. So I sit by my friends from shore studios. A sits with her husband I think. W sits behind. The class starts and again I try to take notes on a receipt the same receipt from the last class. I have to turn it over because I am running out of space. I finally remember my notebook.
The instructor then puts on a movie for us to watch. It’s terrible. I put my head down to go to sleep, but in minutes the movie’s over.
The instructor passes back homework and receipts from the last class.
We have some time left in the class so we have discussion time. The instructor asks if anyone has been divorced. A raises her hands and asks back, “What kind of question is that/”. The instructor asked this question because he’s in the middle of one which is making him sad.
The class is over. W and I go out. I am ask him why we do comm more. He wonders the same about A.
Yikes, this is getting scary and fun. I dream about I again.
I’m back taking classes at Towson and my class is in the old building on campus which use to house the cs department. I get there and the class is packed so I end up near the windows in the back.
In walks the dame.
She doesn’t see me and takes a seat in the back as well. I hide from her all class until the end when we meet and exchange pleasantries.
“Hello.” “Hi.” “What’ve you been up to?”
The next class and I want to tell her something about the way that I feel. I’m going to do it afterwards.
As classes finishes, I walk out before she does. I wait for her at the bottom of the stairs. It takes her awhile to get out. I see her now amidst the crowd. As she descends, I ascend up to her.
“Hey. You got another class?” “No, I’m done.” “Can I walk with you to your car?” “Sure.” “I got something to ask.” “Yeah?”
Now here’s the deal. I want to ask her what happened between us when we were kids. Was there something there? Did I blow it? (Most likely yes and no. Stupid adolescents.) Except this is what came stammering out.
“Would you like to get coffee?” (Coffee?!)
“No. I got to run.” (Ouch)
“Uhh. I mean on saturday?”
“No.”
She’s leaving and I can’t do anything about it.
“You know I’m asking you out on a date?”
“Sure.” (Meaning she knows. Damn!)
She’s getting into her Lexus SUV. Think. Desperation sets in. I can’t let her leave without attempting to re-establish a relationship.
“At least, can I get your phone nymber?”
“I’m in the book under my sister, Becky.”
Becky? What’s her last name again? O, yeah. I remember. I don’t think her sister’s name was Becky.
She’s gone and I feel low. I get into my old Jetta and smoke a cigarette.
Then I am with my cousin and brother smoking in the parking lot of Friday’s. Telling them about this. It must be my subconsious telling me to blog this. I tell them the sad tale. They say clean out your ashtray there’s cigarett butts allover the center console. I open the door to dump the ashtray out.
Then I wake up with the taste of stale cigarettes. Was this only a dream?
Update: I think that this isn’t I, but SL. Why do I think that? SL had a sister named Rebecca as hot a brunette as SL. SL was also somewhat aloof. We had good times together but nothing spectactular. There’s no history there. I usually don’t dream about her.
Another dream about I. This one quickly escaping my memory.
We meet somehow. She needs a ride home. I take her there. It’s back to her parent’s house. On the drive, I think I ask about what happened. She lightly touches my hand on the stickshift as she says she wonders about that, too.
Her parents are at home. It’s hot and I ask about the pool out back with a desire to go swimming. I follow her up stairs as she goes to ask her parents. I catch a glimpse of her mom. I do not feel comfortable. We leave the room. As we walk down the hall then down the stairs, she gets closer and closer to me shoulder to shoulder.
Next thing I know we are in her father’s office, opening desk drawers for some hidden latch. She checks the bottom right, finds a switch and presses it. The bottom left opens from which she grabs some keys. We race outside.
The pool is an above ground pool. We get in. A young kid joins us. I assume that it is her younger brother, but it turns out to be a neighbor. We swim at night. Ever slowly, we come together. We play with the neighbor. His mom calls him home, and suddenly it is just I and me swimming in the dark.
I think we embrace. I feel flushed with emotions. Do we kiss? What happened to us? The last bit I remember is that her resting her head on my shoulders and pulling me closer.
