07/04/2004 - 4:10 a.m. | close your eyes. keep them closed.

There will be some recapping done, and when it is done, it will be glorious, but right now, I am hot and my ears are filled with fluid, and my memory's shot to shit. Tonight - tonight - after 8 plus hours of work, all I really wanted to do was go out with everybody and meet up with Imran and his friends (who came into the candy store during the day) and go out and do something. More honestly, all I really wanted was casual physical contact with a human female, and I had somehow convinced myself that maybe Imran's friend could like me. And when I mean "casuaul physical contact," I don't mean that I was horny or some boring typical shit like that. Just, dunno, regular everyday stuff, like brushing up against someone accidentally or linking arms to skip like a moron. Contact with real people, I guess I mean. I miss feeling like I'm a part of that, you know?

Here's a hilarious half-thought I had: Let's say I kiss someone, all right, and I am aroused by this kiss. Theoretically, here - please don't imagine any erections. Anyway, is it the actual kiss that is responsible or the fact that someone likes me enough to want to kiss me that does the job? It would be a fairly good sign that I am psychologically disturbed if it were the latter. Not attracted to others, only to the idea that others are attracted to you. An egosexual, if I may. What would that change? Maybe it is the case. I can't think.

So! I got done with work, and I had sort of resigned myself to sitting alone in boxers and reading, but then there was sudden great hope that we might go out. And when I am given a hope like that, I cling to it like a life preserver, but our combined force would be Shelly, Kyle, Yousaf, and myself, and the three of them make up nearly a third the Ten Slowest People in the World list (Kyle's brother is on there as well, I'm told). Sometimes I have patience, but this wasn't one of those times - maybe I was being a bitch, I dunno, but I was ready to run out the door myself. Shelly had to decide what to wear and fucking do her face up or whatever, and Kyle had to IM some people or I dunno what, and then we had to get Yousaf, and then we had to go to the store so I could buy ingredients for the new drink I want to make them, but we don't really have much alcohol and they doubt my ability to make gin drinkable, so they go back to Yousaf's to get more shit, and on and on and on. I spend so much of my life not doing anything that I'm nearly out of patience by the time the opportunity comes. Character flaw, I know.

I tell you what, though: I am damn pleased with the free juicer I got with the bag of lemons. Well, I guess you couldn't entirely call it free, considering I had to buy five pounds of lemons to get it, but it went above and beyond expectations, especially for an orange plastic piece of junk. So, I made everyone drinks, and they sort of drank, but then they mostly worked on this glow-in-the-dark wizard puzzle or sat there doing sort of nothing. I'd make a feeble attempt occasionally - "Why not call Imran?" I'd suggest. Or, "Let's fucking leave!" But they had to drink more they said, grabbing another handful of puzzle pieces to sort through. That is when I wished I had stupider friends. I know it would appear I am trying to thrust them all towards alcoholism, but that's merely a means to an end. They won't go out and act stupid unless they are drunk enough (or, as I secretly think is the case, when they've had enough to drink to justify stupid behavior - I could make a case!) whereas I'm more of an either/or type of fellow. I started chasing around the apartment trying to kill this bug, but it was about a thousand times smarter than me. And then Kyle kept "accidentally" hitting me dead on in the face with a wadded-up paper towel. I am a short fuse these days.

Imran got back to us, but I guess he was out at a "bad" bar or something, which put another hinderance on our plans. Personally, I think all bars are sort of lousy and was willing to go just to remind myself that there are humans out there besides the tubbos who roll their way into the candy store, but I was in the oft-ignored minority. We made our way to The Office in Urbana instead, because we had been told that they had both foosball and lax policies on carding minors. They were right about the foosball, at least. Kyle and Yousaf got hosed when they tried to order a couple of Coors Lights. I think part of it was the queer 30 second interval where they tried to sound casual. "Do you want anything?" "I'm not sure. Do you?" "Well, I maybe want something." I raised my head from the table. "I don't want anything." Then, they finally stuttered out their order, were asked to show ID, and the hilarious mascarade continued retardedly. They both pointed at one another and then mumbled something about having left it behind, etc. I tried to stifle my laughs. Did it work? Anyway, they act like these two light beers would have made any difference in our evening, but they were about as drunk as they were gonna get already, and the bar was closing in fifteen, so we walked back and sat in the dark for a while. The plan was to go meet Imran after the bars closed but again the plan was foiled by them being the people that they are. I honestly could not take much more of the lethargy and went outside for a walk. I have to learn how to do things on my own again. I've grown far too dependent on others.

At least slightly calmer, and feeling that such a nice night should be shared, I went back in to grab the others. I managed to get Yousaf out before the fog of sleepiness swept him away, too, and we went to go by him some cigarettes, hoping that the Wonder Twins would take the form of something nocturnal, so that we could maybe visit Imran in a little bit. Yousaf worries that he is too drunk to order cigarettes. I tell him it's high time he learned how to do these things. Besides, Ben is nice.

So, yes, Yousaf smokes, except he doesn't go for the old tried and true shit. In typical Yousaf fashion, he gets these crazy Eclipse cigarettes. They're supposed to be this whole new wave that don't cause as much secondhand smoke, don't smell so bad, and don't actually burn and make ashes. I guess it heats the tobacco instead of burning it? I dunno, it's still gonna kill you. What doesn't, though? Anyway, so this is the brand Yousaf swears by, I guess, except for the crucial issue that he doesn't know how to light the damn things because they are so fancy. Also, he is amazingly drunk. So, we're sitting in the gas station parking lot taking turns at trying to light the fuckers. We finally get one going for him (after incinerating one completely), and then Shelly calls. "Imran says they're all going to sleep." Fucking swell. Well, I for one am not giving up without a trial. I tell Yousaf that we are going to get him a girl because I have decided that Yousaf's virginity needs to be taken, even as my own remains intact. We make it about a block when the cigarette goes out. I take five minutes to light a new one for him. I snap the device off the end. "JUST SMOKE IT FOR REAL" We make it another block. He has to pee. We stop in the bushes to pee. The cigarette falls out of his mouth into the pee. I take another five minutes to light him a new one.

Two cigarettes later (one of which is dropped; it rolls away from him in a hilarious spectacle), we finally make it to Green St Proper. It is fucking dead. Then again, it is also 3 am. Who would've thought? Undaunted, I tell him to call upon his clairvoyant nature (He has that, right?) and lead us to a party. He leads us towards the administrative buildings. Bravo, Nostradamus. We amble for a little while longer, but he is getting tired and makes us step every couple of blocks to rest. He is hardly the desert commando one could hope for ("More like the dessert commando!" Shut up, brain).

Two encounters with Mexicans: The first is near the quad. He is alone and asks us if we know where he could score some coke. "No, man. I do not." But, if I were looking for cocaine, that is how I would go about it myself. "So, do you have any then? How about you?" The second is after I dropped Yousaf off at his place and made my way home. A guy comes up to me and asks something in Spanish. I am not sure what he said, but at the time, I imagined it was like, "Do you know where the [something] is?" I immediately decided that whatever word he used probably meant treasure and being in a saucy (inebriated) mood myself, slowly lurched through this gem of a conversation (roughly translated, of course):

"Do you know where the [something] is?"
"Man, I haven't seen that gold in forever. Fucking gold!"
"Huh? Gold?"
"I had the map for it, I think, but then it got lost in the sewer. Check there."
"The [something] is in the sewer?"
"Yeah, probably. I have to go. Good luck!"

The best part is that while I somehow dredged up the vocab for sewer last night, I could not remember it at all today. �La cloaca!

I was guided home through memory and then I sat and thought alone for a while. Sometimes I wish I knew what it is I want.