I’ve decided to start a journal. Why not? This is a blog after all. But as a year approaches since this blog’s anniversary, I’ve come to realize Click, the internet persona, isn’t entirely the same person as Carlo Vasquez, the bad influence and historically shitty boyfriend. But let’s see where they intersect. Some reflection and sharing can be good for the soul. It’ll be my H&C bike ride to the tip of Japan.
Ever have a night right out of fiction? Last night I had one. Right out of a favorite: Scott Pilgrim. Same Cuervo (gold, of course) and everything. Jung would call it synchronicity and a weeb would call it unmei; whatever the case, we were almost reading lines from a script. Cool enough. I’m sure many of us including me would upgrade to Cowboy Bebop, but this was nice too.
As usual, it was Peyton’s house party and as usual, it was themed. A really lazy theme, actually. “Wear plaid” was all we got to go by, but hey, good enough, her house is built like a fortress. Plus, she gave us all something to complain about, so it was a good compromise. Plaid shirts and dresses it was.
Two hours drunker, I was having a conversation with an ex of mine, Casey, upstairs. I’ve known her for over fourteen years: we even used to play soccer together. We’ve dated on and off, but a year ago we decided it wouldn’t work out. Still, she’s my best friend, the Kim Pine to my Scott Pilgrim, to put it in shameful nerd terms. She bought me my first pack of cigarettes and I gave her first beer; both habits have yet to die out.
My current girlfriend I’ve known for not nearly as long. I asked her for her number on a plane to Los Angeles less than a month ago, and through the awesome power of unmei, we’d eventually find out that we’re going to the same college, attending to the same orientation, going to be eating at the same In-N-Out and that she’s living in Sacramento for the summer. We even share a mild peanut allergy. Of course we hit off immediately in LA and started dating. She’s the new kid on the block, but she and my ex managed to hit off just as well. The three of us now hang out, frequently.
So it’s really no surprise that we’d later spend the night talking on Peyton’s brother’s tacky water-bed, drinking Cuervo Especial out of the handle, all in plaid dresses, bow ties, and flannels. It was a dumb, semi-conscious conversation between the three of us, right out of the image above. There was something on majors, relationships and Pacific Rim (a movie none of us saw), from what I remember. But just when I managed to get into a full tequila fetal position around 4AM something, this slipped out:
“You guys… I love you guys, guys,” Casey slobbered out. “Especially you guys, you guys.”
Of course I made fun of her. “Awww, Case. Don’t you just love us?”
“Yeah. But you two compadres are the best part of my day, like, you know. I’ll miss you.”
I pretended to pass out and everyone drifted off. She’s not coming to L.A. with us. She has her goals, up north, and we have our own, down south. In one month we’ll be living in different cities and I’ll be a year older, contributing to Los Angeles’ famous smog cloud. Leave the past behind. What a horrible saying.
I still don’t know quite how to respond. Four weeks left to find out.