If I had a pen and paper, I’d be making a vend diagram (ven diagram, ben diagram, bend diagram? Hmm. Should have paid more attention in third grade). Maybe even two. J vs. Big. And then J vs. J.
Or maybe I’ll just make a list of all of J’s negatives. A long long list. And I’ll check it frequently. Just for a reminder.
Reasons why J and I would never ever possibly work:
1) He takes his pants off before his shirt.
2) He’s a vegetarian.
3) He doesn’t wash his clothes enough.
4) He never washes his hands.
5) He’s a slut.
6) He doesn’t clean after he cooks.
7) I don’t trust him.
8) He’ll break my heart.
9) He has STORAGE tattooed across his stomach.
10) I don’t want to live on the ark.
11) I don’t want to clean the ark.
12) He wears dirty, white, high socks.
13) He disappears for significant periods of time.
But I do like him, so maybe I should include…
Reasons why I would even want J and I to work:
1) We’re the same breed of mut: Italian, Polish, etc.
2) We look alike.
3) We’re from the same place.
4) He’s fucking charming.
5) So handsome.
6) Beautiful eyes.
7) We’d have beautiful kids.
8) If we were to hyphenate our last names, it’d be magic.
9) He’s an amazing singer.
10) We know each other.
11) We enjoy each other and make each other happy.
12) He’s the voice inside my head.
13) It’s a change to my current situation without having to start from scratch.
LUCA LUCA LUCA
- Luca Makyl
- This blog was once entitled, "unedited. uncensored. unabridged. " Despite the name change, It's still the same old shit...
i am 25 and self absorbed. i check my reflection in the windows i pass by. in the past, my blogs have been highly censored. i care too much about what other people think. this is me...shit and all.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Dear Sally-Wally,
You are one crazy motherfucker. Sorry for getting your car towed. Please don't steal my money. I think you're insane.
Friday, March 21, 2008
meet jared...
Exactly one month after I turned 18, I fell madly in love—pathetic, sappy, skip through fields of tulips bullshit. Basically, it was a boy on a boat—tattoos from head to toe—and I thought he was perfect. And we were like magnets. We couldn’t help ourselves. We even looked alike—one of those couples where people wondered if we were brother and sister or fucking. And this is Jared.
Our first kiss was on the beach and during it, the waves crashed around our ankles. It was like the shit from the movies—for about a month and a half. And then he flew to New Zealand. But he came back and surprised me for Christmas and things were good again. And then he took a job in the Caribbean. Three months later, he flew me down—I had gotten fat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I’d cry every time he left. For days. I’d puke and I wouldn’t eat—couldn’t eat. And then one day I just stopped crying and moved on. There was some fighting in there somewhere—some cheating too, but reflecting on it all 5 years later, it seems as if he just vanished from my life at the snap of a finger.
After we broke up, we didn’t speak for months—probably about nine. And after that, we spoke about twice a year. And that continued for four years. And I guess that takes us to the present.
We’ve seen each other twice in the past week and a half. The first time in five years. The feelings are still there—and that magnetic pull that has been there forever. We look alike, talk alike. I feel like we come from the same place: divorced parents, bumfuck Connecticut, no money, big dreams, yada yada. I still love him.
He’s asked me to leave Sydney and move to PT with him. I don’t know if I’m considering it. Every wish for two and a half years involved him—us getting back together and such. And now it’s like all of those wishes are coming true and I’m wishing they weren’t. I don’t know what I want. Possibly a break. A break from everyone—head off on my own for a while. I don’t remember what it’s like to be single. I just move from one to the next.
Emotionally intense night. Too much wine and too much touching (for a girl in a magnificent relationship). Sigh.
Our first kiss was on the beach and during it, the waves crashed around our ankles. It was like the shit from the movies—for about a month and a half. And then he flew to New Zealand. But he came back and surprised me for Christmas and things were good again. And then he took a job in the Caribbean. Three months later, he flew me down—I had gotten fat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I’d cry every time he left. For days. I’d puke and I wouldn’t eat—couldn’t eat. And then one day I just stopped crying and moved on. There was some fighting in there somewhere—some cheating too, but reflecting on it all 5 years later, it seems as if he just vanished from my life at the snap of a finger.
After we broke up, we didn’t speak for months—probably about nine. And after that, we spoke about twice a year. And that continued for four years. And I guess that takes us to the present.
We’ve seen each other twice in the past week and a half. The first time in five years. The feelings are still there—and that magnetic pull that has been there forever. We look alike, talk alike. I feel like we come from the same place: divorced parents, bumfuck Connecticut, no money, big dreams, yada yada. I still love him.
He’s asked me to leave Sydney and move to PT with him. I don’t know if I’m considering it. Every wish for two and a half years involved him—us getting back together and such. And now it’s like all of those wishes are coming true and I’m wishing they weren’t. I don’t know what I want. Possibly a break. A break from everyone—head off on my own for a while. I don’t remember what it’s like to be single. I just move from one to the next.
Emotionally intense night. Too much wine and too much touching (for a girl in a magnificent relationship). Sigh.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
in today's inbox...
"so seeing you was pretty fucking amazing. so much shit came rushing back... memories, feelings,.... well, i told you i still love you. i mean it. never stopped. i know you are with someone, and you are happy. i shouldnt say these things to you. but soon youll leave, ill leave and maybe this chance meeting will seem like it never happened. i never stopped wondering... never stopped thinking of you. today made me realize why. anyhow. i hope i can make it to see you tomorrow. its late and i cant stop thinking about you and how i felt today. yours, jared"
Dear Blog,
I’m sorry for sucking ass and never writing. Here’s an update:
My gram was sick, so I left AUS on the 16th of February.
She died on Februay 20th (the lunar eclipse).
My family decided (sans research) that my grampa would go to the VA hospital in Bennington.
They soon realized the joint was a dive, but were stuck, because other options hadn’t been considered.
I stepped in, volunteered a month of my time to watch my grampa in bumfuck VT, while my family looked into other options for care.
So that’s where I am and what I’m doing.
Exciting bits in this stretch of boredom include:
“Free Time Wednesdays”: A recess equivalent where my uncle comes to relieve me of my duties around 2p and sends me out into the world. I only have a few hours, so I don’t go far. I’ve been to Glenn’s Falls, Granville, and Bennington. I really woop it up.
“Vigil Sundays”: Another recess day where my uncle takes my grampa to Manchester for anti-war demonstrating. I have a few hours to do whatever I want. Wild.
I visited my friend Kyle at Bennington College. We hadn’t seen each other in six years, but it felt like six hours. It was awesome. Short-lived, but awesome. I had a burger and an iced tea. He had a burger and a Guinness.
I saw J yesterday. I haven’t fully formulated my thoughts on the matter, but I guess I can wing it…
Though completely indifferent as to whether or not I saw him while he was visiting his brother, it was great seeing him and I had a blast. We ragged on each other a bunch ad fell into five years ago very naturally. Almost too naturally. He asked me to move out to PT with him, help finish up his boat, and then sail around with him until kingdom come. I declined, and immediately REO Speedwagon came on the radio (and yes, he still has the tape of me singing “Take it on the Run” from 2003). So we laughed for a little while. The evening ended with me having to kick him out of the car after a heated goodbye and J telling me that he wasn’t kidding about the whole “Luca and J together forever” thing. Sigh. He’s coming over today. (and just so we’re all clear here, I made it shockingly clear that I am insanely happy in AUS with S.)
I’m sorry for sucking ass and never writing. Here’s an update:
My gram was sick, so I left AUS on the 16th of February.
She died on Februay 20th (the lunar eclipse).
My family decided (sans research) that my grampa would go to the VA hospital in Bennington.
They soon realized the joint was a dive, but were stuck, because other options hadn’t been considered.
I stepped in, volunteered a month of my time to watch my grampa in bumfuck VT, while my family looked into other options for care.
So that’s where I am and what I’m doing.
Exciting bits in this stretch of boredom include:
“Free Time Wednesdays”: A recess equivalent where my uncle comes to relieve me of my duties around 2p and sends me out into the world. I only have a few hours, so I don’t go far. I’ve been to Glenn’s Falls, Granville, and Bennington. I really woop it up.
“Vigil Sundays”: Another recess day where my uncle takes my grampa to Manchester for anti-war demonstrating. I have a few hours to do whatever I want. Wild.
I visited my friend Kyle at Bennington College. We hadn’t seen each other in six years, but it felt like six hours. It was awesome. Short-lived, but awesome. I had a burger and an iced tea. He had a burger and a Guinness.
I saw J yesterday. I haven’t fully formulated my thoughts on the matter, but I guess I can wing it…
Though completely indifferent as to whether or not I saw him while he was visiting his brother, it was great seeing him and I had a blast. We ragged on each other a bunch ad fell into five years ago very naturally. Almost too naturally. He asked me to move out to PT with him, help finish up his boat, and then sail around with him until kingdom come. I declined, and immediately REO Speedwagon came on the radio (and yes, he still has the tape of me singing “Take it on the Run” from 2003). So we laughed for a little while. The evening ended with me having to kick him out of the car after a heated goodbye and J telling me that he wasn’t kidding about the whole “Luca and J together forever” thing. Sigh. He’s coming over today. (and just so we’re all clear here, I made it shockingly clear that I am insanely happy in AUS with S.)
i love spending time in vermont in the dead of winter and freezing my ass off...
I’m in Vermont and freezing. When I woke up, my grampa asked me to check the thermometer.
“Negative eight.”
“Negative eight? What does that mean? You mean eight below?”
“Yeah, eight below. Negative eight.”
“Negative eight. Did you make that up? Did you hear that on the weather channel?”
“I dunno. It’s not positive, so it’s negative. Negative eight. Eight below.”
Ten minutes later he shuffles into the kitchen. Normally, I associate shuffling with a fast pace, but in this case of shuffling it’s extremely slow. I use “shuffling”, because of the sound it makes when he walks not because of the movement itself. His feet never really leave the ground—just skid across the carpet, which is too cushy and often trips him. He’s in the kitchen now and fiddling around with stuff that doesn’t need fiddling with. Life would be easier if he stayed in one place. My life anyway.
“For Pete’s sake, can’t you read a thermometer? It’s twenty below.”
“It’s negative eight. This line is for ten.”
“Let me see. Oh, you’re right.”
He shuffles back to the table.
He has all of these rules that I need to follow when I’m here. Ridiculous things that serve no purpose other than to give him a bit of control. I think at this age, he feels helpless and is humiliated by the fact that he constantly needs someone around, so he makes up these rules to have a little power.
1) The colored plastic cups are his. He washes them himself and they do not go in the dishwasher. They stay on the counter.
2) The blue chair and the green chair are his. If you want to sit in the living room, sit on the green couch, the blue couch, or in the white chair.
3) He only eats with a soupspoon. NOT A TEASPOON.
4) The blue towels are his. Do not touch them.
“Negative eight.”
“Negative eight? What does that mean? You mean eight below?”
“Yeah, eight below. Negative eight.”
“Negative eight. Did you make that up? Did you hear that on the weather channel?”
“I dunno. It’s not positive, so it’s negative. Negative eight. Eight below.”
Ten minutes later he shuffles into the kitchen. Normally, I associate shuffling with a fast pace, but in this case of shuffling it’s extremely slow. I use “shuffling”, because of the sound it makes when he walks not because of the movement itself. His feet never really leave the ground—just skid across the carpet, which is too cushy and often trips him. He’s in the kitchen now and fiddling around with stuff that doesn’t need fiddling with. Life would be easier if he stayed in one place. My life anyway.
“For Pete’s sake, can’t you read a thermometer? It’s twenty below.”
“It’s negative eight. This line is for ten.”
“Let me see. Oh, you’re right.”
He shuffles back to the table.
He has all of these rules that I need to follow when I’m here. Ridiculous things that serve no purpose other than to give him a bit of control. I think at this age, he feels helpless and is humiliated by the fact that he constantly needs someone around, so he makes up these rules to have a little power.
1) The colored plastic cups are his. He washes them himself and they do not go in the dishwasher. They stay on the counter.
2) The blue chair and the green chair are his. If you want to sit in the living room, sit on the green couch, the blue couch, or in the white chair.
3) He only eats with a soupspoon. NOT A TEASPOON.
4) The blue towels are his. Do not touch them.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
