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mood |
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 mellow |
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music |
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Madonna "Causing a Commotion" (BALLA) |
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Yo. Is this stupid-ass month over yet? I hate October. It goes on forever and nothing happens.
There's really not a hell of a lot to report, other than I'm sitting here at Java House eavesdropping on a pretentious-ass theater student flattering herself. Some favorite tidbits so far: "My character history is such a blur."; "I haven't discovered my character's intention yet."; "I think your character's intention is to push Sally away."; "Meredith said there's a big difference between an improv and a scene."
I'm pretty comforted knowing Meredith Alexander, a registered member of the gestapo, is this chick's teacher. Throw her against the wall, Meredith. Or just eat her. Then, in victory, dye your hair ten more shades of burgundy.
Okay, I swore I wouldn't write much just now since I'm allegedly at Java House to work on a freewrite for non-fiction class... but, oh shit, the inspiration just took over. Let's mull over a few of my favorite life topics, which of course are Lemont, closeted gays, and using people.
L-Town. I went home last weekend compliments of the ever-reliable, ever-overrun-by-the-Amish Greyhound bus. I paid $29 bucks for a truly scenic route back to Chicago. We stopped at DeKalb, Aurora, Peoria, Moline, Rockford, and maybe even some un-embarrassing places too. I was dropped off right at UIC and Sarah picked me up. Weirdly enough, Amanda Deckelman was in town too. Fuck I love these girls. And then Kimmie showed up too! I'm fanning myself at all the star power here. Amanda also had a friend from Notre Dame in tow who really seemed mild-mannered... until a few mixed drinks kicked in and suddenly he challenged me to a couch-cushion joust. Anyway, that followed a memorable night of bar-dwelling with the girls. What can I say? The night was random, spectacular, hilarious, and one-of-a-kind. So much getting it -- as if that was unexpected.
However, my visit back home was mainly motivated by my brother Greg's LHS stage debut. I'm welling up just thinking about the long, winding, beautiful Virtel legacy that lives on under Mrs. Jacobs' legendary, stupid direction. Okay, the play itself was a straight-up dubious choice: a string of monologues from New York City high school students about 9/11. S.O. fucking S. But guess what, Greg Virtel rocked the fucker. He came in halfway and delivered a pretty heavy-handed monologue -- and let me say, no one was more surprised than I when Greg finished that speech. He had timing. And he thought about what he was saying. And I about... believed him. I literally turned into a delirious soccer mom after it was over, stifling myself from crying out, "That's my BABY!" Luckily, my brother Jim sat next to me, and he of course filled me with cynicism. That shut me right up.
Later that night I barhopped with Kimmie and her sweet-ass boyfriend. Holy crap, he was such a Gets-It I almost started calling him Louis. Kimmie's preciousness only magnified in his presence. Well done, dear. Also, I don't even remember the last time I spent two days in a row hanging out with Kimmie. It is times like this where I'm forced to correct Madonna; for it is not music, but The Carousel, that makes the people come together. The bourgeoisie and the townie.
Elyse and I jammed throughout Saturday afternoon, and that was fun and cute, if a little typical. Somehow the weekend turned darker for me late Saturday (as it often can when I'm boarded up in Lemont hanging out alone). I don't know. Lemont rules when I'm with people, but much of the time I only feel like I'm wasting my time or awkwardly reattaching myself to a life I don't live anymore. Or I just get to thinking too fucking much. For a change, I know.
Mostly I was bothered about a guy I met recently who's a closeted homosexual. He was a cool, smart guy -- and still it's hard for me to reconcile when someone so intellectually developed is, in fact, emotionally and sexually stunted. In a way, to me, it's like realizing he doesn't know addition and subtraction -- or worse, that he's scared of (or at the very least, bothered by) himself. I know that struggle. Luckily, I also know overcoming it. Perhaps that's why it's most sad to me, actually.
Meanwhile, back in my land of out-and-proud-and-manipulative, I made out with this guy a couple weekends ago, which, normally, would be fine. However, I've established that I don't want a relationship with him, and yet we're set to hang out again soon. Perhaps this is only the beginning of a friendship (and I'd be down with that), but hmmmm, you never know with these things. I prefer to exact the trajectory of all my relationships before they actually occur, so right now I have to curb my anorexia and let things stay out of control. And still, there's more: this guy knows, quite intimately, the man who runs Bravo's website. Umm, I've been wanting to parlay my Advocate experience into a job at Bravo sooo hard. But couldn't you just pee yourself at this terrible moral conundrum? I hang out with a guy who could potentially want more than a friendship... and I have the nerve to want him to introduce me to his high-and-mighty Bravo friend. Yikes. Expect an update on this later... you know, with my frequent updates and all.
Also, Halloween is tomorrow. Fuuuuuck that.
Out I go for now. Love you guys, thanks for reading, can't wait to meet again, long live Kylie Minogue, etc., etc.
Too famous, xoxo,
Louis
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