As much as I cared, she never once thought I was worth her time. And it's become set like that. Even to this day, it feels like I'm stuck in an airport. It feels like someone's debarring me from the warmth of their home. I'm like I'm Tom Hanks, but all of the time, in that . I can't quite get it together.
I saw her home twice. The third time it was too late. I'd messed things up. It was specifically un-airport-like. I saw her home's view of the city, as if looking over a bright new future, talked to her mother - or at least mentioned to her about the view - and she was cold toward me, and then saw her. In all her teenage beauty. I saw myself too, in my teenage inadequacy. We went out. We smoked some dope on the street and incredibly, it was safe in those days. I had with me my CD Walkman. We played it and listened in some grungy alley. While I explained to her my love of Nirvana, we packed a pipe.
I played expert as I told her about all of that. I told her I would definitely recommend Bleach as the best album of all. I told her about lots of things. That Barney the dinosaur was really a paedo - but that was a dark joke. She laughed at my dark sense of humor. I tried to make it as dark as possible to attract attention... Then we walked home. We saw a child who was railing against their mother. I said she was possessed. She bawled with laughter after that. I thought I had won her over.
We walked past a place earlier where there were lots of old men. She hadn't wanted to go there. She said it was full of old men. 7-11 was on that same street. She stopped by a shop and asked me if I wanted anything. Not being selfish, and taking pride in that fact, I said "No thanks." God is perfect in his lack of a double-answer. I thought in black-and-white back then and I still do. I still think I need to study Python coding language to become rich. I still think I need to say I'm sick in order to skip a job I don't really want to do...Anyway, so after the stopover at 7-11 we walked home. That was it. We didn't have much to discuss after that. We walked up the special flight of stairs that took her to her home.
"Who are you?" Said the girl at Central Siam about 15 years later. I should have said "Someone who got lost on the stairs in Fischoek. Because for years after that I'd been looking for answers in my dreams. I sometimes saw her as a spoilt brat who I wanted to console but she always chased away. These things all seem strangely calcified like fossils. And like fossils, they seem to have dissolved away somehow.
The second time I saw Kelly was during the Argus cycle tour. When I went up to her room to get her down, her sister openly acknowledged me as her friend. So I was able to get into the holy grail, her bedroom. She had pink sheets over her bed. That was nice. Then her goth friend came and changed the whole dynamic. It was all about her. We didn't stop talking about how she felt and so on.. That her parents worried she was too isolated. At one point we sat on the sidewalk and I was thinking that it was over.
So after we got done talking about the Argus and whether Kelly would enter, we stood up and left. And I said I was leaving too. One thing that made it worth it in a bitter-sweet way, and something that I've been carrying around ever since, was the huge hug that we shared. That was nice and health giving. That was good. She had on a very light, strawberry-milkshake-light hoodie. It was soft and new. It was lovely. I have wanted more of that hug ever since. But it's hard to come by. Honestly, all I need is that hug sometimes.
The next time I tried to visit her, things didn't work out. I was manic. It was bad the way things happened because I told her I loved her and really that would be crazy to say. So when I came to her house to pick up the DVD connection for Davi, she was blushing like mad. But what I missed and looked forward to was that hug. I wanted her hug to be in my life permanently.
I had been in the mountains before, with the Lions association, or round table or whatever; Rotary, that's it, on a night of pain and ego. And then the sun dawned and I couldn't stop laughing. I must have seemed insane. Some woman had told me I was too weird the night before and she couldn't tell me why I was unlikeable. I guess that might have acted to break me. I'm not sure. I think it was the mix of alcohol and marijuana. Fast forward to that next day on the train into town and everything was very beautiful. It's a beautiful train ride to be sure. But this was like a damn miracle.
That: what seemed like the beginning, was actually the end of the line for me and I guess I've never been able to live that down, and the rest of it would just be four bitter years in the Gulag of the soul. I need something more than a gesture or a wave from a girl, but whenever I ask for it I get looked at as if crazy. It's no fun to live that way. It can be extremely disconcerting. But that's how it is.
I used to blame my mother a lot for sending me to a boys-only school. I used to say to God "Give me love or give me death." But it never got better. It just got more complicated. Some people have families now. Some people are far ahead of me in ways I can't even imagine. Some people are even helicopter pilots. I feel like I'm wasting away and struggling to pay my rent every month. I feel like I'm judged everywhere I turn. I suppose I'd better go for that photo opportunity combined with a visa trip today. I suppose I'd better organize my life better if I'm to have any chance in the "real world."
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