Wow… that’s a week i won’t soon forget. New romantic interests, bitter ex-girlfriends, new Ani DiFranco albums, stress at work, and slowly but surely becoming famous.
by krisis
Year 01
The oddest thing happened to me wednesday night. There was a knock on my door, and i immediately was ready to scream “Jesus, Matt, how the hell did you manage to lose your keys?” but when i looked out the peephole i saw something that was definitely more girl-shaped than Matt (Josh chimes in: Dude, I’m more girl-shaped than Matt.) Sorry, anyway… I opened the door and there was a girl there. I asked timidly “Am i being loud?”, and in response i was handed a wine cooler, and the girl doing the handing said “I just wanted to tell you that i love listening to you through my ceiling and i wanted to give you something, so here.” I sorta just stood there dumbfounded for a second, opening and closing my mouth, and then said “Wow… um… thank you.” We chatted for a very strange minute or two during which i found out she lives directly beneath me, and then she left. I put the bottle down on my stereo and started working on my new song again, but the bottle was staring me down. It felt weird sitting there.
Bottle in hand i went downstairs and rapped on her door, and she opened it with a sorta bemused look on her face and i said “I don’t really take liquor from strangers, but i’ll come down and play you some songs this weekend and drink it then.” We wound up talking for an hour, during which time i learned that i’m “famous.” My next door neighbor apparently turns off his teevee at night to listen to me play, her entire family knows who i am from her commenting on me while on the phone, and her boyfriend was totally ecstatic to hear me bleeding down through the walls one day when he woke up. “I’m sorta like a teevee character, huh?” “Well, I didn’t want you to think i wanted to hook up with you or anything, but i just had to come up and give you something or say something. So, both”
We sat on her floor with her door wide open for a while and figured out that the weird italian looking guy in spandex from her dorm was actually Joey, and she even knows Selina from working in the language department, and i wound up promising to communicate through notes slipped under her door, and that i’d show up with my guitar over the weekend.
And to think i thought she was going to complain about me being loud.
Gina just called me a “hopeless romantic” … that’s hopeful romantic, damnit! Why do we call them hopeless romantics? I think the connotation is that their romanticism is hopelessly unstoppable, and that they’re never going to change. But, did you ever think of it the other way? What if hopeless romantics are just romantics without a hope? What if they’re just always just setting themselves up for failure, and so lack any chance of ever just being “romantic” without any adverbs to modify it? Anyhow, Gina is either right or wrong depending on the definition … either i’m hopelessly romantic and she’s write, or i’m a very hopefilled romantic and she’s wrong. It’s a 50/50 shot, Gina.
A conversation i bet you’ve never had with your mother, online or in person:
Mom – Don’t forget that we’re going to the concert on the 26th
Peter – Dude, me forget a Peter Mulvey concert? What sort of crack are you on, exactly?
Mom – Dude, the good stuff!
Yeah, we’re strange…
I’ve only ever danced four slow dances that i recall. When i was younger i didn’t ever really see the point of it … it just was an extended slow-motion hug that turned in circles upon circles to a song too slow to really dance to. Up through my Junior prom i never danced a slow dance, but, finally, at my Senior prom i was convinced to dance by my beautiful (platonic) date Ayelet. That one spin around the dance floor remained my one and only until this year’s formal at Drexel, where i danced another platonic dance with my favourite stage manager in the world, and one with Selina, who was my date. Even though that slow dance wasn’t really platonic at all, it still sorta falls into the “safe” category because we were supposed to dance … there was no risk involved and we obviously liked each other at the time.
Last night was the first time i ever asked someone to dance out of the blue, and she said yes. I stepped on her toes once or twice, she corrected my tendency to lead us in a continuous clockwise spin, and we wound up talking and laughing the whole time. Even though it was just one slow-motion spin within a whole night of dancing, to me it was a first. And there’s a first time for every thing.