behind blue eyes

10.22.03 @ 3:47 p.m.

I don't want to sound like I do, the way it did on the long entry I wrote and deleted. Details aren't necessary. I'm distressed because I thought I had pushed Who Boy out of my thoughts as I had decided to stop looking for him, to stop keeping an eye out. I didn't see him last Monday, I've only seen him those two days all year so far. Except...

Today I came out of the library after finishing the Rock History exam in apparently record time. I think I was the first one done, which was because I knew the material backwards and forwards. Of course, I even knew the major labels each of the six "Classic Rockers" (Fats Domino, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, and Buddy Holly) worked for even though he told the class that we wouldn't have to study it. So he put those questions on the test anyway, having forgotten what he'd said until people reminded him in class. Everyone is going to get THOSE questions right no matter what they marked, which is irksome because I know I answered them correctly. I went to the library to find the Billboard Pop Singles book, which wasn't on the shelf. I lingered somehow (I forget what I did, and it was just an hour ago) and headed out at five to three knowing I wouldn't catch the bus I wanted. As I passed, I looked at the person sitting at the computer closest to the hallway into the lobby. I was noting the army-green Chuck Taylors and it wasn't until I was directly passing that I realized it was Who Boy. I probably looked comical, because I was in such shock that I felt my expression go blank and my eyes go wide. I went outside and sat there trying to work on "Traveler" until 3:15, when I was totally weak and went back inside. He wasn't there anymore, which after the initial disappointment made me feel better, because I could write it off easier. I went up to the third floor again to see if I could scrounge up that Billboard Pop Singles book after all, didn't see it on the shelf, and started back to the stairs.

Just as Who Boy came up them and on to the third floor. I think I smiled. I can't... I can't remember, really. I think there was recognition. I bypassed the stairs and sat on the bench next to them and fiddled with my back pack. He stood looking at the floor directory before taking off. The thing is, I HAD to sit there. I was shaking so hard. That's what startles me the most, that I was shaking like a leaf. A leaf in fucking hurricane. I mostly got ahold of myself. That was the last time I saw him today (It was less than an hour ago? Wow.) though I made myself go back to the back of music reference, where, hah, I found the Billboard book on a desk. Go figure. I found the info I needed and left.

Since then, I've been alternately frazzled and jubilant, in two minute intervals. I'm frustrated by all the nervous energy two seconds passing absolutly pumped into me (guitar time, perhaps?), happy to have seen him again and to at the very least pretend there was some recognition, because it's easier to be deluded than to think that it was all in my head. I want to cry or scream or something, with all this energy and confusion.

I'm a mess, and it's so stupid and so baseless that it makes me angry at myself and things just get worse. It doesn't help right now that I'm listening to "Won't Get Fooled Again" and the synth solo sounds like the most beautiful thing in the world right now.

Happy/funny things:

-Checked out Misery (the S. King one) from the Knight Library. Man, I've been there a lot today. Anyway, I'm happy to be reading more of his work and I want to enjoy some fiction reading before I settle any further into NaNoWriMo.

-Speaking of, I started laying down a very basic framework for "Traveler" when not staring into space and thinking of boys who wear green chuck taylors.

-We did an exercise on double negatives in Italian today (which are used for emphasis and are not the no-no they are in English) where a girl was asking her friend questions and we had to write the response in the negative. They were all questions like "Do you enjoy going out with groups of friends?" and "Do you like Italian boys/young people?" After three or four questions answered in the most vehement negatives we could come up with, I heard a girl a couple of seats down say "I wouldn't want to be her friend!" I suppose it's more amusing if you did the assignment and realized how contrary and bitchy the responses start to sound very quickly.

[Title track from Who's Next... *coughcoughWhoBoyhasblueygreenyeyes...cough*]

*EDIT*: Okay, so I told E* this whole thing and how upset I am by how unnerved it all made me, and this whole time we're watching the rain (hallelujah) and listening the the bonus tracks on Who's Next, which include "I Don't Even Know Myself". So then I was tidying the living room and started singing the bridge... "Do you remember me? I don't remember you. Do you still love me? You know, I think you do..." Which, given the whole epic of Who Boy, is hideously, hideously ironic/freudian/whatever. I realized what I had been doing, started yelling "Oh my god," then collapsed on the couch in laughter. Oh man.

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Previously

fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05