ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Girl I knew a girl a few years back who told me all about this boy who she had seen read his poetry at an open mic night one September evening. She was immediately intrigued by the boy, and in a way so powerful it made her conscious of her every action and even her own breathing. She tried to explain it to me, going into detail about what a strange almost uncomfortable fascination she had with him. She said it wasn't necessarily sexual or romantic attraction. Although he wasn't bad to look at, she was at a point where she could recognize the symptoms of physical attraction, and she was sure she'd never felt anything like she was feeling before. It wasn't his words, either; the poetry he was mumbling through was mediocre at best, if well-intended. More than any of that there was something there in the totality of his presence that made her feel drawn to him in this new, miserable, urgent way. She knew she had to talk to him as soon as she could. One thing she had always prided herself on was that she wasn't the type to ever hold back. As soon as the last act had had their turn at the microphone, and all the evening's preformers were milling about, she approached him, taking him by the arm off to a corner of the room. She began to speak to him, but the things she said tripped out of her mouth in an absent incoherence, as her mind was busy racing. She again felt extremely aware of everything she was doing, and what possible counter-action each action she made might bring. She didn't want to seem fawning or obvious, so she didn't want to talk to him about his poems. He might get the wrong idea if she tried to explain this extremely new and personal feeling she had encountered at the very sight of him. She didn't want to be mistaken for one of those desperate types who goes to open mic nights to pick up strangers. At that moment, while she was actually talking to him in random fragments of thoughts outside of her head, her brain spun in circles trying to decide what she should say to him, almost oblivious to the fact she was presently mid-conversation. This somewhat ridiculous interface went on for about two minutes exactly. For the majority of the time he had a strange sort of smirk on his face that made her all the more particular about what she might be construed as at any given moment. It ended nicely enough, with the regular "It's nice to have met you"s and "See you around sometime"s, and she returned home to replay their interaction in her head for days, drowning in dissatisfaction at how she had possibly misrepresented herself. They met again maybe a month later, and a similar explosion of uncomfortable but urgently fascinated behavior took place. A precedent had now been set for akward interaction between the two new friends, and it soon became a series of similarly confusing and entertainingly bewildering meetings. She would anylize the way they acted around each other, and compare her data to past meetings, looking for progress or patterns. It got to the point eventually where the two were almost comfortable with their uncomfortable dynamic, and they would openly discuss their analysis of each other, and then collectively anylize the fact that they had compared analyitical notes on each other. These sporatic meetings and occasional dissertations continued for maybe a year or so, until one night, following an unexpected and unbearably akward run-in at an all night laundrymat/single's bar, the boy leaned over and kissed the girl squarely and passionately on the mouth. She was stunned to the point of forgetting herself. At that moment, though it had never really been a prior consideration, she became a part of their kiss. In fact, she became the entirety of the kiss, and she contained all parts of herself, him, the sky above them, the alley walls to either side of them, the dirt below their feet and the rock and then molten core below that. She became the moment that was happening, and it became everything, and she felt an incredible sense of weightlessness and understanding. She looked around and she saw other beautiful moments; high school car rides with leaves blowing through the air and girlfriends laughing. She saw sleepy-eyed sunrises and strange sea plants through ocean water vision. There was beauty and possibility all around her and she saw it all very clearly and with a strange calm. What she didn't see were the pages of pie charts and line graphs that the two had drawn up from each other. There were no documents of their previous inadequate meetings or of the potential for future failure. This lasted for about two minutes exactly. They both looked at each other for a second, said goodbye and walked away in seperate directions. They had surprised each other. The world had surprised them. They were both smiling. The next day there was more to anylize than ever before, and on opposite sides of town, each of them milled over the implications and ramifications of the bold, horrifying events of the night before. The possibility for misrepresentation was at an all time high, and there was much to think of if they were ever gonna make it out with their dignity intact. 4:10 a.m. - 11.21.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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