no fax, no xerox, no telex, no floppies. i’m just my father’s carbon copy!

recently i spoke with some friends from high school who i haven’t talked to in a long, long time. well, one of them i’ve talked to. and even seen, (not within the last year). and sporadically exchanged emails with. but the other one i haven’t seen or spoken to since the summer after my freshman year of college.

i’m both delighted and made vaguely nervous by this reconnecting business. how much have i changed in 6 years? i think possibly quite a bit. maybe. certainly i talk somewhat differently. as has been pointed out to me on the phone.

it’s just, i don’t know, a little strange. but exciting. even if now i never actually get to see them it’s the kind of excitement that has a whole town talking about that time last year when farmer jebediah’s pig got drunk on homemade gin and tore thru the football field during homecoming. it’s the kind of fascinating event which brightens up the normal humdrum rush of ordinary life which i have come to expect. kind of like bill finding us on the internet. like that. something out of the ordinary which will give me ample opportunity to embellish in my imagination/day dream ruminations for weeks, or months, to come.

just last night, for example, i dreamt that james and i went to this place called “jail pot” and there were a lot of drug addicts there. also…they had rooms you could rent. sex cubbies you could say. i woke up in a state of horror when we walked in the door of said cubby. but i enjoyed the psychoanalyst interpretation.

even more i enoyed making goo goo eyes at a 15 year old tonight at dinner. he was at a table near mine with his parents and friend and friend’s parents. he completely ignored my existance thru the 2 hours we were both there. but when he ordered the chocolate cake and took the first bite. i pretty much feel in love with the melting expression of pure orgasmic feeling that crossed his face. he seriously sucked on that spoon. watching him pull it out of his mouth so slowly like a qualified tease, eyes half closed–i wanted to moan right along with him.

fucking 15 year olds. i mean that in both senses of the world. sick. seriously. sick. …you know what?–why do i always have to fake guilty feelings over this? i don’t feel that bad for being attracted to 15 year olds. i’m not actually having sex with them. and probably wouldn’t if i had the chance. so i shouldn’t feel bad about it anyway.

(note: title of this post taken from a line in a song from this really terrible indian movie that i recently watched. i stared at the subtitles in consternation the first time they sang it. then i rewound to make sure i was not imagining things.)

long-hai and jimmy/james. the two i am talking about at the beginning of this post. this is from the summer of 98. being the last time i saw james.