June 18, 2003

Fate pts. I & II

Last night, I went over to my friend Kurte's place to get my paycheck that he had picked up for me from the catering company.
I stayed for a Jack&Coke, and we watched I'm with Busey (let me just say this about I'm with Busey... "I have a love in my life and it makes me stronger than anything you can imagine.") and the Daily Show, and then the 13th Warrior, and several more Jack&Cokes later, I had this brilliant idea for a two part post to be entitled "Fate pt. I" and "Fate pt. II". It was incredible. It was epic. And when I woke up this morning, I remembered about 5% of the idea.

Which is fine, it was probably all drunken ramblings anyway. But this is my sober expansion on the ghost-images of drunken ideas.

Imagine a child, born in California, and then almost immediately swept up and transported to Hawaii. This child, a little boy, is blessed with beach boy looks, striking blue eyes and blond wavy hair which his parents kept long in a type of shag cut that made him even cuter. This little blond white boy goes to an exclusive private school, is one of the smartest kids in a class of smart kids, reads endlessly, has a vocabulary greater than most adults, annd gets to grow up in paradise. He travels the world, going to seven countries before he even turned seven. This child is rarely denied anything, although, after he grows out of toddler tantrums, he rarely asks for much besides books and Star Wars toys.

His family expects great things of him. There is no reason that this child couldn't grow up to be a great scientist, an astronaut, an archaeologist, a banker, a titan. The child has to move to Oklahoma, which shocks him, but only a bit. He again goes to schools full of smart kids, and again he is among the very smartest. He excells at everything he attempts academically. People look at this child and tell him that the world can be his. The child becomes a young man, graduates from high school, and decides to go to an exclusive school on the west coast, choosing it over a couple of ivys, and other sundry top notch institutions.

Somewhere along the line, the young man loses it. No one is quite sure where. He begins to flunk classes left and right, drink too much, dabble in narcotics, and is generally apathetic and depressed. No one is sure why. The man pulls some of himself back together, limps out of college with a degree in a completely useless field, and wanders aimlessly for several years.

He's haunted by the teachers, classmates, parent's friends, everyone who knew him. That moment when they ask him what he's doing now, and he tells them and they look shocked. Or when they ask him why he dropped out of the exclusive program he was in. Or when he tells them he's going back to grad school and they say "good, good, maybe then you can get a real job."

Everyone loves to see the golden boy fail.

Listen, I know I haven't emailed you in a while.
The reason is two-fold.
One, I don't have an ending to my story that I like yet.
I would send you all the bad endings and let you choose one, but I hate giving anyone anything to read that is not perfect. Especially you. I like to impress you.
Which sort of brings me to two.
I don't know what to say. I love discussing the emotional architecture of our past relationship with you. It is beautiful and painful and enlightening and perfect. It was as if we were always meant to excavate this together, years later. But.
But let's be frank and honest (I'll be Frank, you can be Honest).
I, too, feel like I am teetering on the brink of something.
I feel like my presence in your life is a chaotic one.
I don't want to fuck around with your life.
Sorry this isn't an email, but it's such an incomplete though, it would be wasted as an email.
And last night in my haze, it dove-tailed nicely with fate part one, it involved some things that I deem ok to think about concerning you when I'm drunk or in those moments of super-sub-consciousness right before or after sleep.
Pretty simple stuff actually, but highly inappropriate.
And I'd hate to contribute to your occasional traitorous dream.
Who knows, you probably don't even read this anymore.
I wonder what it'd be like if you hadn't ever found your way to the spigot.
A great deal less interesting, that's for sure.

Oh, and this is for you.

Posted by orion at June 18, 2003 10:49 AM | TrackBack