11:23 p.m. x 2007-04-10
it's the tenth! and hence, a month mark for jimmy and i. number nine, specifically. if you're counting. last night, i hung out with he and ernie in jimmy's basement. they played guitar hero somewhat, but mostly imbibed in a bottle of rum. it was vicious. and interesting. very interesting. i had some, but it was a poor decision. the way i did it, that is. jimmy's boss had recommended mixing the rum with mt. dew
...which is the most noxious concoction i've ever tasted. i'm all ready not keen on clearish or greenish carbonated beverages, being that i have ginger ale trauma ("you must drink this whole two litre before you can go home", a doctor told me after a throat operation - i don't drink the stuff).
jimmy was particularly wrapped up in a song on guitar hero, and stood with his back to the glass. i decided i'd be all impish and polish it off before he turned back around. i had done that last time he and ernie drank, and had had rum. but that was properly mixed, and this was not only 3/4ths rum, it was mixed with mt. dew. EUGH.
but being all about seizing oppertunity...i chugged it, trying to drink through the taste. when jimmy turned around, alas, he just asked for more, thinking he'd finished it. thwarted!!!
not only that, but i subsequently couldn't breathe. my chest constricted and i started making little gasps. this is from the carbonation, mind you...all the rum did was make my vision blurry. but my chest found intolerable the fact that i'd had two and a half orange sodas prior to the rum-chug, and ceased to do its work for a minute or two. after around seven minutes i was back to normal, except for the vision, which persisted to be a bitch the rest of the night into this morning.
meanwhile, ernie got retarded. that was a novelty, being that he holds his liquor admirably. he was rolling around and giggling right there with jimmy this time. two issues surfaced sometime after jimmy, failing to grasp his muscle capacity, broke a glass in his hand - i needed to get home somehow, and it was awfully early in the evening for them to be so obliterated. to this we owe the volume of rum ernie distributed into each glass imbibed (derr).
jimmy got almost panicky about my safety while ernie entered into a vigorous vomit-and-piss procession, whereby he evacuated his system of all intoxicants (and just about everything else) in the cruelest and quickest of fashions, periodically pausing to sit and go "ask me anything, i'll answer truthfully". jimmy lolled around the basement bed and reminded me very sweetly of a man i've seen several videos on in psych class (haha, it's better than it sounds, it is). this guy, well, he's unfortunate, he has no short term memory. but every time he sees his wife, he bursts into this incredible expression of affection for her. it's amazing. every time, because he never remembers doing it prior.
so, last night, jimmy was having a lot of trouble keeping a train of thought and asked me the same two questions well into the night (with regards to if he smelled suspiciously of alcohol or if he did indeed break the broken glass in the trashcan). he also constantly hugged me and stroked me and professed his thanfulness that i was there and i am his and i wasn't judging him. indeed, he wasn't bad at all except for lacking in motor skills. it wasn't as if he was doing anything very creepy. but it was very very sweet.
ernie took me home and jimmy requested that i call him as soon as i got in so he knew i was okay. as soon as i got up to my room, i also remembered a small detail. when my breathing became very difficult, i removed my bra and tucked it behind a pillow on the couch in the basement. so when i called jimmy, i told him and asked if he could please grab it and hide it until i could get it. poor guy had all ready managed to make it back up to his room, and i had to guide him on the trek back to the basement, which featured a detour into the bathroom, where he sat on the floor, momentarily uncertain of where he was headed.
the bra was ultimately recovered and resides in his desk until further notice. we spent a few more hours talking, and oh man...it made my heart flutter when he asked me not to leave him, to keep talking to him. he talked about when we first met and how i am the perfect girlfriend. it was...haha, i know you there! you're being critical of this on the recieving end! but i enjoyed it very much. he was nice and coherent, and it made me feel incredible. he called this afternoon after i got home from school and thanked me for talking to him and resumed owning my ass with awesomeness.
this evening...i've just arrived back from dinner out with him, we went way out to a steak house where the band that jimmy auditioned for the bass was to be playing. it was open mic, and quite a few people played, including the guy who sold jimmy his bass, haha. and a score of very competant fourteen year olds! and a man who covered jimmy buffet. it was motley. then the band arrived and played four songs, and then...errgh. jimmy plummetted into a discouraged abyss. that terrible misery that you can't help somebody out of, that pisses you off when you aren't looking at the situation correctly.
my head's pretty cool tonight. and i understood. that terrible, rotten, nothing-you-can-do feeling utterly sucks, and i'm pretty powerless to get his head out of this. i know he just has to relax. i wish he could talk to his parents. i felt really bad on easter that they very openly maligned his choice of career paths. i don't know if it bugs him...it bugs me that i can't talk to my parents about a lot. and he is so confused and worried about what he's going to do. i really wish that i could help him.
but for right now...he's gotta blow off steam. and i accept that. i'll give him a hug when he's ready. i love him so much. and it was so profoundly wonderful when he told me that i make him feel confident that everything would turn out all right because he has me, and he has my support and my belief in him. i just want him to keep it in mind. it'll never stop being true.
i'm rather sorry that i never got into music. i made the valiant attempt at the flute once. and owned a bass. owned, i say. jimmy had it, and we've been forced to confront the matter quite recently that the poor thing just isn't playable anymore (the neck's warped from poor keeping - i'm to blame, but MARK MY WORDS i'll bring my little guy back to life someday! $200 later). i can read tabs, but that's like saying...i can chew this gum i'm chewing and type this diary entry...i can't read music, although i've understood it every million times it's been explained to me. i know if i put my mind to it, i could get the hang of and be good at an instrument. i'm a little lacking in rhythm, but not to the extent that i'm a lost cause. i used to write lyrics quite often, but of all these sordid attempts, only one survives that i'm truely fond of.
it just doesn't come naturally. but neither does socializing, and still i press on. i could do music, and being that it is expression, i'd enjoy it. i just feel bad i'm not good at anything at the moment. if i was, jimmy could be in my band and we could be outrageously awesome. mmm...i just want him to feel better. i know that he will...
"don't search for all the answers at once," says a giant appearing to FBI agent dale cooper. "a path is formed by laying one stone at a time."
if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start