Monday, August 29, 2005

we laugh indoors

Ambulance lights flash and break the semi-darkness of dawn.
I reach and stop the ringing that is coming out of somewhere. My sleep is so deep that my dream continues playing out in front of me even after I've opened my eyes. I blink a few times to make it go away.

It is my mother calling me with strange and sleepy tears in her voice. She's very upset and I'm having difficulty piecing together why. My grogginess is unprecedented (and I challenge you to say otherwise).

Her and my father are on their way to the hospital, following the paramedics. Tony had arrived at work early this morning and began to feel strange - his vision blacking in and out and his coordination becoming painfully slow and labored. He knew what was coming, but as always, ignored it hoping that it would pass. Moments later, he collapsed. A teenage co-worker with bad skin and wearing a Paul Frank t-shirt hollered for someone to call an ambulance.
Another seizure.

Word came later that it took him a good 20 minutes to a half hour to fully come around. His memory seems ok this time. He's suffering a slight residual tremor in his left leg that will surely disappear by late afternoon.
I sincerely hope that this poor kid doesn't lose his license.
Much less groggy now, I'm really glad that it wasn't more severe. I don't want another late-August hospital disaster again this year. Last year was enough.

And just when I thought I had had my fill of this crap, just when I thought I had ended all the girly garbage, when I thought I had gotten a completely sound mind back for my efforts...
I don't mean for it to happen, and admittedly, it sort of confuses me. I thought I was finished being crazy. I thought I was finished looking for a counselor.
But then here I am.
But then there I was, three doors down, the headlights of a police cruiser penetrating the interior of the Focus, its cherry lights spinning, and flashing, and mocking - making my reflection in the rear view mirror to look exactly how I felt: crazy and distorted.

It has the potential to make me feel dark and Godless.
I don't like that feeling.
It makes me feel mentally exhausted, but then I don't want to develop any sort of romantical attachment to the idea of being insane, so...

I found myself at Kelly's house last night somewhere around 1:00 in the morning. Maybe 1:30 - I can't quite remember.
Brandon was there.
Brandon's friends were there.
I quickly retreated to the living room where I obsessively checked my email, Sports Center blaring in the background.
His friends left shortly after I arrived there but not before Frankie made his way to the living room to introduce himself and hit on me briefly. I said hello and kept my head down.

Brandon concocted himself a Captain and Coke in the kitchen and then came and joined me on the couch. He flipped through the channels before settling on Rounders - I made him shut it off after one scene because he kept talking along with the dialog. It was impressive (he replicated John Malkovich's Russian accent and everything), but slightly unnerving.

And then Brandon and I talked. We talked for a long time. We talked for several hours. Brandon and I haven't talked like that in at least two and a half years.
I told him [nearly] everything and he told me [nearly] everything. And then we shared sighs. And smiles.
Neither one of us said that we were holding back anything, but I think it was at least somewhat evident.

We talked (quite literally) about sex, and drugs, and rock 'n' roll. And we talked about God, and the church, and even homosexuality for a bit. I asked him about blow, he asked me about Jesus, and somewhere around 5:00 am we hugged, he mouthed the words "I miss you", and then we headed to bed; he to his and I to Kelly's.

I kind of miss you too, Brandon.

So where am I now? I'm here, at home.
I was just painting on my wall again. This plaster definitely feels more artistic than a paint roller, but it's taking forever and I'm not 100% pleased with the results. It's coming along though.
I'm coming along.

And am I feeling more stable and less afraid, and dark, and Godless than last night? Yes. That too.
I'm a reasonable person, I know I am. I have my moments, but overall I am reasonable. I've shaken this back into resolve, and until next time, I'll be just fine (thank you very much).

Currently listening :
The Photo Album
By Death Cab for Cutie
Release date: By 09 October, 2001

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