"somewhere other than inside the out there. " -- part thirty four.

-- that better thing is supposed to happen soon, right? you said it would get better. --

i've been thinking, as my mouth is moving, and i'm talking your ear off over so many packs of cigarettes, all of this is to little or no end. no matter how many memories i pile up on your head and no matter how many of my theories i toss in your general direction, it's not going to help you is it?

that was my original intention. you've been such an avid listener, that i would have liked to help you out in some way, even if it was just by giving you another thought to think.

you see, once this is over, the coffee has been drunk and the cigarettes smoked, we'll stand to stretch our legs and mutter something along the lines of "well, have a good night." i'll get back into my car. you'll walk your wired way home. i'll fall asleep, and you will too. there will have been goodbye, right there on our breath, as easy as pie.

i'm alarmed at that.

don't ask me why. i don't know.

i could go into the abandonment issues and the line of old boyfriends and love's labour lost, but i'll spare you.

it's as simple as goodbye hits home.

i try to hug the people i love before they leave. i try to remember to tell them that i love them. i try to let them see my eyes. but more often then not, it's as simple as i don't miss them until they're gone.

most recently, i went to visit one of my best friends up with the skyscrapers and noise. we tromped and fanagled. it was a grand old time. again, sparing you the history lesson, it wasn't until my eyes fell upon his empty apartment as i was shutting the door that i realized that i had been there and was now leaving. i set my bag down for a moment, and i sat at his desk to draw him a picture. in a rush, i scribbled some monkey sitting in a tree and wrote a small note to show my love and appreciation. because that was the only thing i could do to make it real, or i wouldn't have even believed that i had been there.

goodbye is like that.

it's just its way.

but these items are balanced, most precariously, but balanced none the less.

for every goodbye i've been forcing out of my collapsed vocal chords, i sit with a friend and eat fresh fruit. or we choose the porch with a whisky over tight cramped spaces. or i find myself loving the ceiling that keeps me company at night.

oh, crap, nevermind. i can't explain why.

when i got back from my parents' house in the north, i came back to this little three bedroom in austin. rockstar, explorer and i began to play our 49th street games. i started to look for a job.

every night, at the same time, my cell phone would start ringing what has been deemed as the call of boy. whatever i was doing, i stopped and talked to my boy. we kept cingular in business with our long distances.

we went over every speck of our day, and then we'd play our talking games. it was never "no, i love you more." it was more of "shut up, fuckhead, you know i love you." and we were good like that. we talked at least three times a day.

october 2002.

buddha went to visit boy in that same apartment, the one above the dry cleaners.

things began to go downhill, but not in a careening graceful way. more of a vertical waterslide.

i talked to buddha, and he told me that boy had fallen when he was trying to get out of the car.

"well, that's strange, what happened? did he trip?" thinking it was an anecdote.

"naw, i don't think he could get his footing."

and so i asked boy.

"no big thing. i had a headache."

ok.

a couple days later, he told me that he had fallen in the courtyard at school, but that he hadn't eaten all day.

one night, i was sitting on the porch with explorer. a heavy aired october night, and my elbows were on my knees, and i was thinking very hard, and i was chain smoking.

"i think i should go see him."

"why?"

"i don't know. i want to see him."

"you just miss him, you'll be ok."

"i know, but i want to see him. i should go and surprise him. i've still got the keys."

rockstar came home, and i asked him to drive to new orleans with me.

he sat down with me, at three in the morning, and he said, "i don't want you to go for the wrong reasons."

and i said, "what?"

"i'm afraid that you won't come back, or you won't want to come back."

i know it happened. i know that that look came over my eyes, that rare seriousness.

"if you don't want to drive with me, i will go and sell all of my cds tomorrow to buy a plane ticket."

so it was set, rockstar and i were going to drive to new orleans on sunday to see my boy, and i couldn't sleep with excitement.