Got a call from my dad on my way home from work. He had bad news: My uncle Stan had just passed away. He wanted to tell me before I left for Vermont. We all knew it was going to happen, but the fact that it happened this soon after he was diagnosed with Lou Gerhig's disease, indicates that he must have been pretty well into it. I just saw him a couple of weeks ago, too. Despite the mourning that accompanies death in our culture, his suffering has come to an end and that is a good thing. Wish you well on the other side, uncle Stan.
So it's just me and Luke Warm on this camping trip. Going into it, I knew it was going to be a small crew, but I didn't envision it being this small. Not a terrible thing, though --- the weather looks to be ideal and Luke Warm and I will have the chance to catch up on things after not having seen each other in a while.
It's too bad Mike, Spira, and Sean won't be going, but frankly, these days it's nigh impossible to get anyone together for any reason. Just the way things go, I guess. But I'm not going to be glum. No, I'm looking forward to heading up to beautiful Vermont and having a good time. And hey, there's still time if you want to go. Yeah, I'm talking directly to you. Allow yourself to get away from the stresses of life for a night, just one night. Fuck the excuses ---let's go!!!
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The last two mornings I've woken up at almost the exact same time after having almost the exact same dream. There must be some significance to that. I won't go into detail, especially because to do so would reveal an aspect of my life I'd rather not telegraph, but I will say in both dreams I had a different girlfriend and each was especially devoted to me. The first one was from Brazil and the second was one of the hot managers that works at Shaws. One of the dreams had me throwing a back pack that contained the few remaining possessions I had left in the world into a lake and then changing my mind an hour later and retrieving it. The second dream ended at Mike's house with a bunch of singing AC/DC's "Beating Around The Bush" at Heath as we crowded him against the wall. I spent the bulk of the last two days wishing I could crawl back into those dreams.
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A little past midnight last night I heard what sounded like a woman laughing outside my window. I figured it was someone walking past the house. When I heard it again a few minutes later, I peeked out the window. I didn't see anyone, but I did discover that it wasn't laughter I was hearing, but someone crying.
When I heard it again a minute or two later, I was determined to find out where the crying was emanating from. When I looked out the window at the house adjacent to mine, I saw a woman in the window with her head in her hands. Her bed must be against the wall where the window is, because she was sitting with her hands on her knees. And she was weeping really, really, noisily.
A guy, most likely her boyfriend, sat on the bed with her. Ok, a lover's quarrel. They commenced to arguing for at least the next hour. Well, it was mostly her, from what I could gather. She was getting in his face a lot; a few times it looked like she was going to hit him.
Was I invading their privacy listening in on some of their fight and did I feel guilty, maybe even a little perverse as a result? No fucking way! First of all, if you're going to be having a full blown fight in front of an open window after midnight on a week night, your rights to privacy have been forfeited. I only saw some of the fight, and had to put my I-pod on when I went to sleep because they were still going when I crawled into bed. I kind of wanted to see it through, see how it ended --- not well, by the looks of it --- but I was tired and could tell by the tone of the argument that tempers would remain at a steady boil for a while longer as they rehashed the same talking points ad infitum. (As for what they were arguing about, it seemed to me the guy remarked at some point in the evening that he wished she had confided in him about something she had confided in someone else about. She took issue with the remark and thus began the fight)
At first, I really felt for the guy. She was pretty abusive and, though she spoke like she had recently read a book on relationship skills --- It can't be "me", it has to be "we"--- her condescending manner left no room for dialog. And him? Well, he mostly just sat there and took his lumps and didn't offer much, other than occassionaly whining "Ok, you're right, I'm an asshole".
Stand up for yourself, son! Jesus! I was starting to side with her more and more once I saw how spineless and noncommital he was about every point she made. Anyway, what started out being kind of interesting, voyeuristically listening in on an argument, quickly grew tiresome. I realized if I want the good stuff, I should start watching The Hills.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that I was naked and masturbating the entire time. Just kidding --- I wasn't naked.
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I've got to get my head around this Ann situation. Is there something to it? Why do I find myself thinking about her so much? Is it only because I see her on a daily basis? All I know is yes, there is probably something to it, but to what extent is beyond my ken. I mean, there's a lot to like about her: she's pretty, kind, funny, and a little quirky. And, my ability to withhold thoughts of her when she's not present and curb my stammering awkwardness when she is nonexistent. Ah, my head is dizzy even writing about this. I'm moving on to something else.
And that something else is laundry and some light packing for tomorrow. I'll check back in when I get home.
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