Not nearly enough for offense
July 01, 2002 @ 8:06 a.m.
This weekend was a mixture of melancholy, temporary thoughts of suicide, and some hidden satisfaction as well.
My Friday night was filled with Marine uniforms as my mother and I attended the hot air balloon lighting and concert at Brucemore. The Marines from 29 Palms -- aka Middle of the Desert -- California, were on hand to sing and play for the crowd. We bought strawberry smoothies, the yummiest things ever, and waded through the masses until thoroughly sweaty, then headed home.
Saturday began with my favorite hobby: sleeping. After that need had been fufilled, Becky and I reunited after two months of separation. Didn't do much, just caught up, laughed, reminisced. Plans for the future were mentioned, even encouraged. Still confused about mine, but it seems she's being very decisive about hers.
After that, my mother and I went to our cabin and tried to figure out the best way to keep cool with a window air conditioner. Sean -- my younger brother, for those uninformed -- arrived soon after with four boys and two girls: Kevin, Michael, Andrew, and Little Kevin (the one I fondly refer to as "The Other One"); the girls were Ashley and Ashley. Let me sort out all of these relationships for you.
Little Kevin and Andrew are twins; Kevin's their stepbrother, or related to them in some way, and Michael (called Brown by everyone else) is Kevin's roommate from the Army. Ashley squared are just your random pretty girls that the boys happen to be friends with.
It all worked itself out in the end, but that was when I began to feel considerably sorry for myself. After all, I was alone and Sean was just the opposite...cute boys and pretty thin girls ogling each other is always a cause for me to begin to determine what's wrong with me. It's a horrible phase of mine, but it all works itself out in the end, even for the better. You'll see.
So I wrote poetry until I was repeating myself and then wrote more, no poems really echoing my sentiments fully. I gave up and decided to sleep instead.
Sunday came and I figured it would be another one of those days, which I simply did not need. Sean and I went for a boat ride and I was reminded of how much I love my brother several times during the short trip. We docked and he woke his boys up (the girls having gone home late the night before). One by one they came stumbling sleepily out onto the porch to light up, all half naked and craving nicotine: Andrew, Little Kevin, Michael, and finally around 2:00 PM, Kevin.
Both Andrew and Little Kevin, being twins, resemble Eminem. Freckled noses, blue eyes, wary smiles, too skinny for their own good. It's not too difficult to tell them apart: Kevin has his natural brown hair and speaks more; he's also more authoritative than Andrew and a stoner. Andrew's quieter, bleach blonde, and only drinks. They're sweet enough.
There's not much I could get from Michael besides the fact that he has beautiful biceps and pecs. Apparently he's from Montana, enjoys tripping on acid with Kevin, and will show his penis to you if you ask (I didn't ask).
And Kevin, the peculiar one. The one who kept full-on staring at me, the one that made it okay. He had dark hair in a military crewcut-style, the most blue eyes I've seen in a long time, tongue and eyebrow piercings, both ears pierced, and two tattoos. He was built bigger than the twins but not as big as Michael. His voice grated on me, Mike Tyson-esque. (I don't think I could ever have someone without them having a sexy voice. A personal, although rather eccentric, preference.)
Kevin and Sean wanted to go kayaking, so I pulled the two kayaks down to the river, placed the two boys in them, and pushed them out into the lazy current. The two paddled around quite happily for a while, headed upriver and down and then back up again. Sean was done first and I fished him out without too much trouble. Kevin was next, and he grabbed me while climbing out. He also helped identify a fish I had caught while they were kayaking by leaning in close and whispering, "It's a bluegill."
We headed home after that.
Last night I walked a mile and a half in 85-degree heat and humidity because I felt fat, then sat down and ate a supper full of breads. And, of course, read too much into Kevin's stares and close encounters.
Silly boys and their obsession with breasts. I feel good about being treated so chauvinistically. That happens not nearly enough for me to be offended.
<< | >>
- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006