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2001-06-08 / 7:15 p.m. ~The horrified cover their mouths~
This morning it was raining, again, and I wanted to know if I should expect the parking lot at work to flood, turn into a lake, again, so I turned on the news, something I never do. I got the weather report, but I also heard George Dubya plans to send me a check, in September. How much, I wonder? And McVeigh will die on Monday. How weird is that? Knowing exactly what day, what time you'll die, against your will, or maybe because of it. How terrifying would it be? Did he do it? Did he really bomb that building, kill all those people? Or was he raped in prison and wants to end his own suffering? Is it right for the government to play god? Is any of it the way to go, really? In the long run? And, the worst, some nut stabbed a bunch of little kids in a town near Osaka, in Japan. How bizarre is that? So he wants to die, but lacked the "courage" (yeah, I've always thought it would be the most giant leap into the unknown one could take, requiring the greatest courage, yeah) to kill himself, so he killed a bunch of little kids, 7 and 8 years old, so that the government would kill him in return. But, that was the coward's way out. He's so sick, and these little kids died because of his illness. How horrifying. So, I'm standing there, and I'm so tired because I only got like 4 hours sleep, and I just wanted to know if the parking lot was going to flood again, really, and here's this story, and as I watch the video, the scenes of the children running from the school, the ambulances loaded with bloody little bodies, the parents screaming, their hands to their mouths, in shocked horror, yeah, my hand covers my mouth too, and it needs to be there, and I think why am I doing this? Why do we cover our mouths when horrified? We do. It's not cultural, the Japanese parents are doing it, I'm doing it, we're all horrified, no other word for it, shocked, and we're covering our mouths. But why? I called Steve last night and we talked for 7 1/2 hours. Yes, that's right, 7 1/2 hours. The game was on, I barely watched. The Devils sank, gave up, or something, lost 4-0, and Steve and I remembered, talked, remembered, kept talking, about us, about what we remembered, about sex, a lot about sex, shifting to phone sex at some bizarre point, and we both wanted each other so damn much it was painful. Then I would hear something in his voice, and it would trigger some memory, some 20 year old memory and I would know what happened, why we didn't stay together, and I would want to shut that out. After the game, around 11:30, he said I should go, I have to get up in the morning, after all, but I didn't want to, and eventually I never wanted to let go of the phone again. It was an odd feeling, talking to this person, this really important person in my life, in my history, from my past, that I knew, but don't know now, so he's new, but he's an old friend, but is he? And what is he really? Who is this person? And that one phone call, hours and hours, was only minutes really, but I shifted gears a million times, emotions rolling over me and through me in waves, and crests, too much feeling, then displeasure, then interest, curiosity, sharing, mutual, mutual knowledge shared, hard to describe, and every time I said it was so hard to describe it, that it was all so much, really, I had to clarify, explain that. He is so curious, so outrageously intelligent, and thinks from a totally different portion of his brain than I do. We are so different and we're exactly alike. Everyone at work wanted to know. And I had so little sleep, up all night, and they said, "Well????" first thing and I told them, 7 1/2 hours! Can you believe that? Who does that? WHO does that? No one. It's insane, and I write him email saying, We're insane, you know that, we are insane. And everyone wants to know, like it's their vicarious thrill now and I wonder if I ever should have said anything at all. And someone does ask, "What kind of car does he drive?" and "What does he DO?", and I joked with him last night that someone would, ask just those two questions. It was hilarious. And I was giddy, tired giddy, and I wanted to nap at my desk, and now I am home and I can nap all I want. And.....Robert and I were supposed to go to a movie tonight, the opening of the Film and Video Festival, and he is blowing me off. He says his little girl has a fever and a cold, and that he'll call me, when we chat on Yahoo Messenger on my break at work. He'll call me at my cube, we'll clarify, cement our plans. But he's blowing me off. The night is mine, time to regroup, recharge, so much to think about, but a time to clear my head. Watch "Iron Chef" or something, relax........tomorrow is hockey, Game 7, the ultimate for a hockey fan, such as moi. Sunday is babysitting little Lilly. And I'll be complete. Cost of the War in Iraq
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