some fiction.
I felt like writing some fiction. It would be kind of like cute women chick-lit but it's not cute enough. I wish this LJ's background hadn't fucked up. Oh well.
A girl that looked about seventeen came up to me today and said, "Excuse me, do you have a light?"
And I did. I was searching through my pockets - 'cos my jacket has weird secret pockets all over the place; whenever I'm looking for something it always looks like I'm feeling myself up - and I remember thinking, "What's she doing smoking at seventeen? Is she trying to be cool? Is it really her calling?" I checked out her clothes as if they would tell me what kind of cigarette-smoking seventeen-year-old this was. A hoodie, jeans, and large hoop earrings, her hair was in a high ponytail. What does that tell me? I looked at her face and she had these wide eyes that looked intense, like she was one of those centered people who didn't smile much. She looked back at me and I kind of grinned amiably. She lit her cigarette and I stared after her as she walked away, thinking, "When and why did she smoke her first cigarette?" And that was when I started thinking that maybe... maybe I'm just an old person now. An adult.
I remember when I turned twenty years ago and thinking, "I'm not ready to be in my twenties." I've got some years to go before I'm in my thirties but I'm still going through life thinking sometimes, "I'm not ready to be in my thirties." I don't want to grow up and forget what it's like to be young, and I'm looking at this girl, confused and intimidated and awed, maybe forgetting just a little bit more.
I wandered around some more, that is to say I meandered over to Moynahan's, because that's where I always end up these daus. I can always find some excuse, and Pete and Muller always joke about me being an alcoholic. I don't necessarily go for the alcohol sometimes. I think Pete and Muller know this too, and that's why Pete doesn't tease me about it anymore, and there's this fleeting look on his face that he doesn't think I see whenever I talk about Muller. Muller still teases me about being a drunk. I go in and have my drink and sometimes Muller smiles and slips me extra on the house.
Don't get me wrong. I love Pete and we've lived together for a long time now, and I know somewhere in my heart that we're going to get married someday. I think we're soulmates, though I only say that when I'm drunk. I love Pete, but while I wait for him to stop wandering with his head in the clouds and finally settle on a decision and a ring, I like to look at Muller.
Muller and Pete have been best friends since high school, and Pete and I have been together since college. I guess it seems kind of incestuous, but it's not, because what I'm a proponent of the belief that one should be judged by their choices, not their thoughts. I have these fantasies of coming home and finding Pete and Lanie naked in bed, justifying my running over to Muller and ending up naked in his bed. But we're all upstanding people here. We have our dark side, but we have free will, and free will's not something you shit on. Just because I fuck Muller in my head doesn't mean I'd fuck him as soon as Pete has his back turned.
(And sometimes I think Muller and I will fuck anyway, and it would be good, then I wouldn't know how to deal with it. I wouldn't know how to rearrange the pieces once that line is crossed, and sometimes I want to think that crossing that line is inevitable.)
"You're not happy with Pete?" Terrance said to me when we talked about this one time
"I am. It's just that... idle hands are the devil's playground. We have a routine, and it's a good one, but it's so routine that it's nothing now."
"Nothing?"
"No, not nothing. That came out wrong."
"You wanna break up with him and fuck Muller?"
"No, I just want to fuck Muller," I said. "Look, I'm not a bad person. I'm just saying that if I had met Muller first, things would be different, kind of. But I'm not going to cheat on Pete."
And then Terrance just gave me this look.
So, I walked into Moynahan's and there was Muller behind the bar. I felt this wave of joy, and he smiled at me, and he had a drink ready for me by the time I made my way over to the bar. How are you doing, he said, and I said old, and he laughed and said it showed, and I just drank my beer and tried not to think about the face Pete makes whenever I talk about inviting Muller over these days.
A girl that looked about seventeen came up to me today and said, "Excuse me, do you have a light?"
And I did. I was searching through my pockets - 'cos my jacket has weird secret pockets all over the place; whenever I'm looking for something it always looks like I'm feeling myself up - and I remember thinking, "What's she doing smoking at seventeen? Is she trying to be cool? Is it really her calling?" I checked out her clothes as if they would tell me what kind of cigarette-smoking seventeen-year-old this was. A hoodie, jeans, and large hoop earrings, her hair was in a high ponytail. What does that tell me? I looked at her face and she had these wide eyes that looked intense, like she was one of those centered people who didn't smile much. She looked back at me and I kind of grinned amiably. She lit her cigarette and I stared after her as she walked away, thinking, "When and why did she smoke her first cigarette?" And that was when I started thinking that maybe... maybe I'm just an old person now. An adult.
I remember when I turned twenty years ago and thinking, "I'm not ready to be in my twenties." I've got some years to go before I'm in my thirties but I'm still going through life thinking sometimes, "I'm not ready to be in my thirties." I don't want to grow up and forget what it's like to be young, and I'm looking at this girl, confused and intimidated and awed, maybe forgetting just a little bit more.
I wandered around some more, that is to say I meandered over to Moynahan's, because that's where I always end up these daus. I can always find some excuse, and Pete and Muller always joke about me being an alcoholic. I don't necessarily go for the alcohol sometimes. I think Pete and Muller know this too, and that's why Pete doesn't tease me about it anymore, and there's this fleeting look on his face that he doesn't think I see whenever I talk about Muller. Muller still teases me about being a drunk. I go in and have my drink and sometimes Muller smiles and slips me extra on the house.
Don't get me wrong. I love Pete and we've lived together for a long time now, and I know somewhere in my heart that we're going to get married someday. I think we're soulmates, though I only say that when I'm drunk. I love Pete, but while I wait for him to stop wandering with his head in the clouds and finally settle on a decision and a ring, I like to look at Muller.
Muller and Pete have been best friends since high school, and Pete and I have been together since college. I guess it seems kind of incestuous, but it's not, because what I'm a proponent of the belief that one should be judged by their choices, not their thoughts. I have these fantasies of coming home and finding Pete and Lanie naked in bed, justifying my running over to Muller and ending up naked in his bed. But we're all upstanding people here. We have our dark side, but we have free will, and free will's not something you shit on. Just because I fuck Muller in my head doesn't mean I'd fuck him as soon as Pete has his back turned.
(And sometimes I think Muller and I will fuck anyway, and it would be good, then I wouldn't know how to deal with it. I wouldn't know how to rearrange the pieces once that line is crossed, and sometimes I want to think that crossing that line is inevitable.)
"You're not happy with Pete?" Terrance said to me when we talked about this one time
"I am. It's just that... idle hands are the devil's playground. We have a routine, and it's a good one, but it's so routine that it's nothing now."
"Nothing?"
"No, not nothing. That came out wrong."
"You wanna break up with him and fuck Muller?"
"No, I just want to fuck Muller," I said. "Look, I'm not a bad person. I'm just saying that if I had met Muller first, things would be different, kind of. But I'm not going to cheat on Pete."
And then Terrance just gave me this look.
So, I walked into Moynahan's and there was Muller behind the bar. I felt this wave of joy, and he smiled at me, and he had a drink ready for me by the time I made my way over to the bar. How are you doing, he said, and I said old, and he laughed and said it showed, and I just drank my beer and tried not to think about the face Pete makes whenever I talk about inviting Muller over these days.