posted on March 25, 2004 @ 6:48 pm
[this is very very long, and reading it is quite unnecessary.]
traffic has never really bothered me. everyone complains about it, but when i'm in it i'm never actually there. i have music playing too loudly, a cigarette in my hand, and i may be looking at the cars around me but i'm not really in the moment. i'm biting my lower lip checking for stray dead cells and thinking years back to completely random memories.
one morning at 8:00 casey called. normally i would have been surprised that anyone was calling me this early, but given it was casey i should have expected it. "hey, you wanna go do something?"
"what the hell is there to do at eight in the morning?"
"uh, i dunno, drive around..."
with casey, one must append "and get high" to everything he says, so i figured what the hell; i was already awake after all, and my parents yelled at me when i slept past 10:00 a.m. anyway. ":sigh: hold on, let me ask." i entered my parents' room and asked a sleeping mother, "can casey come pick me up?"
"what are you going to do at eight in the morning?"
"we're going to go get something to eat. at ihop or something."
"all right."
as i still do, i threw on some random articles of clothing i retrieved from my floor, then went to sit on the porch and wait for him; he lived very near, whether he was coming from his mother's or his father's. we drove until we'd finished a sweet, and i became suspect of what was in the bottle he was drinking from. "ok, maybe there's a little alcohol."
i took the bottle from the cup holder and sniffed the liquid. "ack! a little?"
he snickered. "or a lot."
his father was at work, so we went to his apartment on eden. i called mom to tell her i was there, and casey and i were soon sitting in front of the tv, he in a folding chair and myself on the floor. he had his younger brother's dreamcast, and he was showing me how he could access the internet through it. we went through sites his brother had bookmarked and were semi-shocked when we saw the name of a porn site. he went to it, and we were soon going through pictures of partially naked women.
at this point it's necessary to step back and look at this scene in full. it's around 9:00 a.m. on a saturday morning in the city of longview, tx, population 73 thousand, in a living room with only a small couch, a television, and a folding chair. no lights are on, so the room has a grey-ish glow from the sun filtered through blinds and reflecting off dull white walls, and two kids at or around 16 are scrolling through boob shots on the tv, stoned out of their minds. people, this was my life. this is why children should not be raised in small, shitty towns: they end up having memories like these and psychological problems like mine.
casey stopped on one woman with gigantic head-sized boobs and asked, "so what is she, like a c cup?"
laughing i replied, "casey, i have double d's. i don't even know what to call hers."
he looked down at my chest for a moment then back at the woman's on screen. "oh, ok."
there was a pause, and suddenly casey chuckled. i asked, "what are you giggling about?"
"i just had a thought."
":pause: about..."
"something that some guys do."
if i hadn't been so stoned, his cryptic sentences would have annoyed me. "which is..."
"they measure their dicks."
"yeah."
"i've never done that."
"you should."
he looked down at me like he was seeking approval. i looked at his lap, level with my face, then returned to his eyes and shrugged. "go for it." he went through the house looking for some kind of ruler, coming across a tape measure in a kitchen drawer. at first he stood behind a small division between the living room and where a dining table would have gone. "this is hard," he called to me, sprawled in the living room floor. "i can't do it with just two hands."
"come over here."
he straightened and looked at me without saying anything.
"it's not like i've never seen a penis before."
he sat back down in the chair with his pants still on but undone. in one hand he held the end of the tape measure against his body, the other held his penis. i sat up on my knees at his side and leaned in to read the tiny marks on the measure.
at this point many people would be feeling some sexual tension, no? a guy sitting with his erection protruding from his pants, and a girl on her knees about an inch from it. also at this point, you should realize casey and i were not what you would call "normal." this is just something to do to occupy our time.
"what's it look like?"
"i dunno, a little over seven point two five."
"really?"
"we'll be generous and say it's seven and a half."
"that's pretty good, huh?"
i nodded approvingly.
"cool."
he zipped and buttoned his pants, and the morning went on. when the high and the alcohol i'd drunk from his bottle started wearing off, i got a little restless, and he took me home.
i told some people about this, and they weren't as surprised as someone who didn't know us would be. they'd furrow their brows and ask, "are you serious?" and when i'd affirm their question, "huh. so how big is it?"
this whole group of people, they were all pretty bizarre. casey was the kind of person who could disappear without a trace for weeks at a time. when i first met him as a freshman, he had long kinky hair just past his ears and acne. by our sophmore year, i'm not sure what he did but it was gone, except for the occasional break out. one day at lunch, as i stood with him, chris, and alan, we went aside together and i applied some base to a blemish he had and covered it with powder. he looked at himself and was amazed at what it did, so the next day i brought him an extra bottle of base that i had. i lent him my copy of the novel trainspotting, and he did one of his disappearing acts before i could get it back.
one day chris and i were out there alone, and he had to pee very badly. ultimately he stepped a few feet away from me, turned his back, and urinated into an empty water bottle he'd been holding. just before he could finish, people emerged from the double doors he was facing, and he had to race to get back inside his pants and hide the bottle. after they passed, he sprinted to the nearby dumpster and up its steps to chunk the bottle inside. the entire time, of course, i'm leaning on a wall for support, laughing. once leah, a girl whose name i really should remember but can't, and myself were sitting on forgotten girl's porch getting high and talking of a chris doll. he'd be in a wife beater and khakis. you could pull a string, and he'd say, "whaaa?" and "yeaahh." i saw him at jonathan's funeral, and it was really awkward. last i heard he was dealing ecstacy.
and leah, jesus, there's no way to even begin delving into those memories. the first time i was at her house, though, is representitive of our entire relationship. we were in the same gym class in the eighth grade, and one friday i went home with her to spend the night. her bedroom had a small bathroom attached, so i sat on her bed waiting for her to take a shower. soon after she closed the door behind her, she burst out in only panties, jumped on her bed in front of me, and started dancing to whatever music was playing, probably marilyn manson, swinging her bra around above her head. little repressed me with secret memories of my sexual encounters with neighbor girls from years past was horrified. she laughed loudly and heartily as i'm sure my face portrayed what i was feeling. she's the one responsible for awakening the pervert in me, constantly licking, biting, kissing, and generally sexually harrassing me, be it via ass, boobs, vagina. one night we lay in my bed with our shirts up to our necks, comparing our boobs. we wore the same size bras, but mine were bigger.
this has really spiraled out of control. i was thinking of driving when i got here, and now being 6:48 p.m. i've spewed this shit out. geez. something has to occupy my time at work, i suppose.