I spent my Saturday night in a way I can't ever remember having done before. Ryan had called earlier in the afternoon, being one of at least five people to wake me from my much needed nap (making up for lost sleep- 10 hours in two days to be exact). The phone rang loud in my ear as I lay horizontally across the bed, my arms hanging off the edge. I cracked open my eyes and lifted my head out of a puddle of drool that had gathered beneath my mouth. Incoming call from Ryan. I had already taken calls from Miranda, Andrew, and so I had no problems taking one more. Ryan was in the middle of completing some school work. He didn't mention going out, and when it was brought up, he shook off the idea quickly. I let it slide, figuring he'd call me later on in the evening with the itch. You know the kind; it's the itch that starts in your stomach gently whispering, "Fill me with liquor, I'm thirsty," and eventually works it's way up to your brain, making you realize, "I should be getting dressed, I should be fixing up my hair, I should be painting on my face." Well, I clicked the "end call" button and plopped my head down again. I woke up around 6:00PM, preparing myself to drive up to Ryan's place. I got dressed, and though it wasn't mentioned that we would go out, I dressed up ANYWAYS just to be safe. I donned Gap's long and lean boot cut jeans, black Zegna dress shoes (square toed of course, I AM gay you know!), and a red stretch Express oxford, unbuttoned towards the top with a black necklace, black belt, and black hat to pull it all together. I drove to Ryan's house, knocking on the door to hear him yell, "Come in!"
The apartment was being cleaned. Ryan's sleeves were pushed back and he was spraying down everything in the kitchen with chemicals. I lit up a cigarette. Ryan's place is quite possibly my only sanctuary that allows me to smoke inside. My favorite thing to do is smoke cigarettes in bed. I love doing this because I'm never allowed to do this. I have never smoked in my house, so it's always a treat to be at Ryan's house. Ryan complained about the dishes.
"When Rob cooked dinner the other night, those dishes sat in the sink from Thursday until today." Today was Saturday, and I was there when he cooked that meal. I helped him make it, dirtying literally every pot, pan, and skillet in the whole place. Ryan was exhausted, I could see it in his eyes.
Ryan works every day and has Tuesdays and Thursdays off since he has school on those days. I feel like he works way too hard to have to be concerned with cleaning the way he does. It's pretty ridiculous how I'll show up at the house, and Rob will be on the couch playing video games, surrounded by overflowing ash trays, empty soda cans, and spent packs of cigarettes. My mom has always been such a neat freak, it drives me mad having any clutter around at all. Rob apparently has never been driven enough to clean up after himself unless you light a fire under his ass and force him, and even then, I'm sure he bitches the whole time. I try really hard not to be too hard on Rob because:
1) He really is a great guy
2) He has a great personality
3) He has his moments where he's all smiles and is fun to be around
But it gets really difficult for me to keep my mouth shut because:
1) Rob can be extremely lazy and unmotivated
2) He can get angry for no apparent reasons
3) His bad moods have recently been outweighing his good ones
4) I don't see him treating Ryan as good as Ryan treats him
So Ryan finished up in the kitchen; I emptied two ash trays that were full. Ryan's mission for the evening was as follows:
A. Go to Target or Wal*Mart
B. Buy large plastic bins to aid in the sorting of their laundry (which up to this point has littered almost every room upstairs)
C. Get food (Ryan had been craving corn on the cob for at least a month and a half now)
Ryan and I smoked one last cigarette on his front steps before getting into my car (which is not smoked in, mind you). We talked about Rob briefly. I know Ryan is frustrated. Ryan at least has a boyfriend, while I do not, but even then, I would never want to put myself in the position Ryan is currently in. I deal with matters independently. I have Ryan as my best friend, and I tolerate Rob. There are good times when I really do have fun with Rob, but I've just seen him get more and more out of line recently.
Ryan and I got into the car and took the back roads to get to Target. They had been remodeling the inside. Ryan grabbed a cart and looked at the empty space and stains on the floors and walls.
"Can you smell the fungus?" he commented.
"Can you smell the asbestos?" I asked back.
We browsed pet items, Ryan buying a scratching thing for the cats, and looked at wall decor. We found the big plastic bins. Ryan bought four plum colored bins to sort clothes. If I remember right, they were for whites, darks, sweaters, and work clothes maybe? While walking to electronics and the CD section I spotted an attractive man. He was wearing pointy leather boots, dark jeans, and a green oxford covered by a dark sweater vest that fit snugly above.
"Look at that guy Ryan," I spoke.
"Doesn't he scream 'fag'?" Ryan responded.
"Doesn't he scream 'my next boyfriend'?" We laughed. The man was oblivious to our presence, obviously wrapped up in selecting the perfect DVD.
I found a ethernet cable in the electronics department. I had lost mine and never replaced it. Usually I use wireless and have no problems, but a lot of hotels have wall jacks only, and my school has the shittiest wireless I've ever received.
Ryan found a killer tinted moisturizer that he loves and threw it in the cart. We went to check out. Ryan's debit card was demagnetized. The damn trainee had to gather a herd of at least three other cashiers to help her manually enter the card.
"Would you be interested in saving $6.32 on your purchase today?" she asked, definitely living up to her trainee responsibilities.
"No thanks," Ryan spoke rather unenthusiastically. They finished fixing him up, and I moved up to make my single purchase.
SIDE NOTE:
Earlier on that day (Saturday afternoon) I received a stack of mail. I opened it all, finding credit card offers, magazines, and bank statements. One statement was that of my credit card from Bank of America that I'd been practically melting for the past couple months. I've been putting gas on it, and booze on it, and food on it. I figured, Hell, I have a fifteen hundred dollar limit, I'm just using it on piddly purchases, I'll be good for a while. That statement showed my current balance. It was over $1,300, and If I remember correctly, I only had like $178 available on it. I knew it was close. I also have two paychecks and a small stash of cash I've been waiting to throw down on the card, but I hadn't been able to get to the bank since I work during normal banking hours.
At the register I inserted my card into the reader. I waited for the box to pop up for me to sign. She turned her screen towards me,
"Your card was declined."
I'm sure my face was quite the sight at that moment, but I had been expecting it sooner or later. I tried to stay calm. I pulled out a ten and a five from my pocked to pay for the $10.58 purchase.
Ryan and I loaded the stuff in the back seat of the car. Pulling out of the parking lot I asked him, "So what do you want to eat? There's Chick-fil-A and a Taco Bell right here."
"Wait, I think that's a KFC over there, I want corn on the cobb. Take a left."
We drove over and found a cut through in the parking lot to get us there. There was a curb preventing us from leaving the Mattress store's parking lot and entering the KFC lot. We parked as close as we could and got out and walked. Ryan decided to order the 8 piece dinner. We got it extra crispy, with mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and corn on the cob. They made us wait forever. I pulled out my BlackBerry and opened up PerezHilton.com and read Ryan all of the recent celebrity dirt. When we got back to the car with the bags of steaming all-American goodness, I turned to Ryan. "Reading about how fucked up all these celebrities lives are makes me feel a little better about my own. I guess that' why I love Perez Hilton so much."
Ryan laughed for a while. We talked shit about Perez for the next ten minutes between eating buttery biscuits in the car. "He's such a fat ass. They have him animated in the picture at the top to make him look skinny."
Back at the house Ryan fixed me a plate with everything. I had a drumstick and something else. I think it was a breast. I don't usually eat fried chicken because I'm terrified of any meat that still has bones in it. I never know where the bones are (unless it's a drumstick, which I normally stick to). I ate everything and picked as much meat as I could off of the breast. Ryan swallowed down that damn corn so fast I was waiting for him to choke. He ate two ears. Rob called saying he was on his way home. Ryan read a Word document out loud to me that he's been working on for his class. It was really great. He spoke about his family ties and gave background on the relationships that he's been surrounded by. I read Ryan the last two entries from my blog out loud, reading them off of my BlackBerry.
Ryan liked the concept and spoke about collaborating and writing something together. He went to the Blogger.com site and started his own blog up. I helped him pick out a format and load it up. He's written a couple entries so far. It will be really interesting now to read things from my point of view and then read his blog to see what his perception on things was. The link to Ryan's new blog is http://ryerye78.blogspot.com/ The link has also been posted on the right side of this page.
Ryan wrote in his blog, asking my advice to help list the top five songs of the week and adding five close runners up. We did that.
"I feel like I should be upstairs and getting ready." I knew what Ryan meant and I was itching so bad for it myself, I didn't know what to honestly do.
I told him, "I feel like I'm denying my body it's natural right to get fucked up." He looked at me like I was stupid.
"How is it a natural right?" he said. I laughed.
"You know what I mean." I left it at that.
It was twelve, then twelve forty. Ryan had mentioned showing up at the pocket and tipping every drag queen but Naomi. I'm sure he wasn't serious. I'm never going back, and he doesn't want to either. I just don't want to be that weak. I don't want to show back up and smile for them all over again. It was too late anyways.
I put on my coat, now newly motivated to redo the formatting on my own blog. Rob was home now, sitting in the corner wearing a wife beater and his slacks from work. I told them both goodnight and made for the door.
I didn't last very long before falling asleep. I was woken this morning by my mom.
"We're getting ready to go to the 8:30 service at church."
"It's too early, can we do eleven?"
"No, I have to show property today."
I passed back out. Dad woke me up later. I went back to sleep. Then I hear two girls voices. One is my sister. The other was a friend I guess.
"Dammit, I'm in my underwear and my hair is all jacked up. I can't even walk to the shower now without them seeing," I thought to myself. Instead of making any great effort, I got out of bed, turned on several lights in my room, and played some music on my iPod. I hung up the clothes that had been clean and laying neatly on my floor for almost a week. I'd just been too busy, running from work and school and to social functions. I hung up everything, organizing and separating jeans from khakis from black and gray slacks. I hunt up all my oxfords on one side of the closet, separating solid dress shirts from patterned dress shirts. I hung all the polo shirts together and all the tees side by side. I cleaned out the bottom of my closet, clearing out old school notebooks and throwing out unnecessary papers and old work schedules. I pulled out two canvas messenger bags and one Ralph Lauren carry-on sized bag. I emptied out the contents of all three, sorting through bottles of water, old check stubs, broken pencils, and tanning bed lotions. In one of the canvas bags I found a stack of OLD SCHOOL Penthouse magazines that someone had given me years ago. I don't know who even gave them to me, but I never even opened them. I just stashed them. I put them in a different, more disposable bag and stuck them back at the bottom of the closet. I put all the empty messenger bags inside of the big Polo bag and put it back inside the closet as well. All of this closet and clothes business took up over an hour. I took a shower and dressed in shorts and an old tee. I threw on some flip flops and my big Abercrombie coat. I grabbed a Camel Menthol Light out of the pocket and stepped out the back door.
"Hey Ryan." My dad was sitting on the steps. He scared the shit out of me.
"I didn't even see you there." I lit up my cigarette. He was tinkering with the chain from the chain saw. I had seen him outside cutting back the crepe myrtle tree earlier.
My dad and I don't have conversations. We see each other in passing and are cordial towards each other.
"Chad didn't come home last night?" I asked.
"No, he spent the night at Alex's."
"Have you ever seen that apartment complex?" the corners of my mouth turned down as I spoke.
"Yeah, they live in shit." Dad was obviously disappointed.
The following ten minutes revolved around the people that Chad has been hanging around with. It wasn't good.
"I'm really disappointed in him." My dad looked down at the chain again.
"You know, I can party just as hard as him but in a different way, and I still pull B's and A's."
"I know, and I'm so proud of you. I never have to worry about you. You'll be fine. You can come home at two and three in the morning, but you still get up at seven to go to work the next day. You have a drive and that's great." I beamed. My dad really loves me. I shared his opinions on my brother. There's no talking any sense into him though. He's just going to keep smoking weed everyday and failing out of school. He's failing Biology and everyone is convinced he's just not putting forth any effort. It's been over six weeks and he hasn't even opened the book. My dad wasn't pleased. I feel bad for my brother, but he's done all of this to himself. He's let everything go. He doesn't care. He will stay out for three nights back to back, spending the night at Alex's house and getting fucked up with him and his friends. I know he doesn't have a toothbrush in his car or at their house. It's disgusting. When Chad demand his braces be took off, the dentist was very concerned about Chad's dental health. The boy hardly brushes his teeth. He had terrible build up and decay at the gum line all around. My parents have just had it with him. Dad says he should take his tax money (Chad's) and get his teeth fixed finally. You can't talk sense into him though. I suggested Chad join the air force since they really don't get deployed too much and they're unofficially known as the "chair force." It isn't a bad idea. He'd at least have a government job and benefits. The conversation finally migrated away from my brother and his financial problems, drug abuse, and educational issues. My dad and I talked about my educational path and projected transfer date. I talked about post-college plans.
"I don't know why but I keep thinking about Texas, even though I've never been. I also really like Tennessee and I never thought I would until we went last year."
"I've been looking at Tennessee a lot too. We're going to retire there. I keep looking at property on Craigslist." I knew he had been looking for a while. My dad could transfer work out there now but he wouldn't have the same health benefits and wouldn't be able to retire as early as he can here. So it looks like a ten year plan. He'll retire in ten, and then get out to Tennessee.
I finished my cigarette and put it out. My dad walked back around the house to get to the front side where he'd been cutting down the tree's dead limbs. I felt great about myself, and somehow felt even sorrier for my brother. It sounds like he has a year or less to clean his shit up or he's getting kicked out. My parent's can't just keep giving him gas and cigarette money while he stays home sleeping all day or smoking all night. He goes to school now because he's forced to, but he shows no initiative at all. I walked into the house and tried to clear my mind.
I sent Lunch Boy a text message asking him if he had plans for this 'otherwise uneventful sunday.'He had to visit his dad and said he had no other plans. I asked him if he wanted to hang out. He said "if i have time yea." I told him I had a hookah we could smoke and I also had two random tickets to the Virginia Air and Space Center (museum AND IMAX). His response, "word." That was at 1:42PM, it's now 4:20PM. I just got off the phone with Jimbo. We talked for a while about recent news that included the fall out at the Pocket, and other minor drama. I don't know what to do now. I want to smoke hookah but I need to figure out who I want to come over and enjoy it with. I'm going to make some phone calls. Maybe later on tonight I'll head down to Norfolk and see what's going on at Skip's. It's a neighborhood gay bar similar to the Pocket but bigger, with more people, and a small dance floor (I've rarely seen it used). I'll call Ryan later on and see if he'd be up to it.
Anyways, I need to go do something productive.
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