Had a cute guy ask me for my phone number today. Have reason to believe he's more interested in my collection of David Lynch films than he is in me, (namely because I suspect we've dated somebody in common, if you know what I'm saying... Plus, for gahd's sake, he likes art films, IF you catch my drift...), but it was interesting anyway... And besides, no matter what, he has beautiful eyes.
Nathan and I went out after I got off work. We went to Barnes and Noble. We robbed Barnes and Noble fucking blind. Well, Nathan robbed Barnes and Noble fucking blind, but I sort of watched and am mostly prepared to follow in Nathan's great and legendary thieving footsteps... I have three new books in my living room at this very moment. Barnes and Noble deserved it. They serve shitty coffee and hide all the good art magazines behind like, "PC World" and "Pet Me, I'm a Republican With My Own Magazine."
Was walking home from work today, when a guy leaned out his car window and yelled, "Hey, Helena, need a ride home?" I had NO idea who he was. He was blonde and scrawny, and I knew I knew him, but I wasn't close enough to recognize him. So I shook my head and yelled, "Thanks, I'm good." Then I ducked into the convenience store in front of me, so I wouldn't look like a total ass. I smiled as I wandered through the store, half-heartedly searching for birch beer or a carton of orange juice; I have a social life, I thought. Not only did a cute boy ask for my number (even though I suspect we've dated somebody in common), but a friend -- or somebody I HOPE is a friend and not a pervert who happened to know my name and try to give me a ride -- actually stopped to pick me up today, instead of driving on by... And of course, there is always Nathan and Jo, two of my dearest friends, who actually talk to me and listen to me, and actually want to... *dramatic pause* ...hang OUT with me sometimes... It's very cool. It's something that hasn't happened for a long, long time: people seeking me out to say hello and spend some time with me.
It's something I've never been sure I deserved: friends. It's why I never had birthday parties: I was never sure anybody would show up. I think... I'm not sure, but I think... that people would show up if I threw a party now...
Went to Chances tonight. I promised somebody I'd be there. Peter was there too. I hugged him and kissed his cheek (Miss Diva Divine does not kiss Helena on the lips, EVER... Peter does, but his female alter-ego generally wants nothing to do with Helena...), and didn't really have much to say. He said, "I'll call you tomorrow." I said, "I'm going out with friends." He looked dejected and said, "Okay, I won't call you tomorrow." Then he introduced me to Somebody and proceeded to begin making out with Somebody (the name escapes me). So I shrugged and walked away. I'm not really very concerned with what Peter does with his time and his dick, as long as he doesn't end up with a horrible disease or a position of governmental power.
After six months or so of Peter telling me I had no friends, that I was too crazy to have friends, that people would really rather spend their time with him, I guess I -- finally -- no longer believe him. I miss him sometimes -- miss him peeing with the door open, miss us eating dinner together in the living room, miss holding him at night -- but my need for him has been replaced by a mixture of calm, loving, contemptuous, apathetic peace. My need has been quenched by a job I love, friends I love, and the sense that I'm not actually doing anything horribly, inexcusably wrong with my life, except maybe not recycling as much as I should...
"I suppose a part of me is still in love with him... I don't think that will ever really change, but..."
But...
but whatever.
Bought a new skirt today. It's blue velvet. I was inspired by the local oldies' radio station a few days ago, when Bobby Vinton came on and started singing that song: "She wore bluuuuuue vellllll-vet..." My mom used to sing me that song as a lullabye. Hmmm...
Today was like, Elvis-day on the oldies-station. They played every Elvis song I know, I think. Just before we changed the radio station, they played "Return To Sender," my least favorite Elvis song, and then "Love Me Tender," my very favorite Elvis song. I guess, it being Elvis-day on the radio doesn't make much of a difference to the world, but Mr. Presley's voice is running through my head and it's really getting a little irritating, which is why I mention it at all.
A little boy died the other day after falling three stories from a brick building on Washington Street in Binghamton. I saw the picture in the paper of the building, and before I even read the headline, my heart skipped a beat and my arms had broken out in gooseflesh. I always wondered if three stories was high enough to kill you. My eyes filled with tears as I walked home. I haven't been able to bring myself to read the whole article yet. Am thinking of sending a card to the mother of the baby: "am sorry to hear of your loss" or something. The news greatly disturbed me.
I'm going to go to bed. I've got a couple of books to begin reading this lovely evening, thank you Nathan.
Love,
~Helena*
"If I weren't so sleepy, I would write about the soul..." --V. Woolf