Sometimes contentment is curling up with a dystopian (my favorite kind of literature) graphic novel and a cup of hot apple cider (Second Cup, you rock). Sometimes it’s spending the night with chili cheese fries and a cherry coke from Johnny Rocket’s and season one of Stargate (going awww at the titanium gatesheild).
Sometimes contentment is spending time with your family in full view of a twilight sky that would not have looked out of place in a renascence painting. Sometimes it’s hanging out with your uncles (who you adore) over smoldering coals and talking over everything from Good Will Hunting to the crappy music they used to listen to when they were kids.
Sometimes contentment is someone letting you know that what you do matters (thank you Krispy). Sometimes it is finding your best friend online for the first time in ages and poking fun at her just like you did in high school.
Other times it’s very far away, not at all important, and all you have is 200 words of fiction.
Short? Yes. Sweet? You tell me.
I haven’t gotten rid any of Ari’s stuff. People have dropped a few hints about helping me find some sort of charity to which I could donate some of his things. The truth is, I haven’t even started packing things away. I still pay rent on his place, and when I’m there it seems like I’m there waiting for him to get ready so that we can go already. He's always late, and I'm always impatient. Impatient for what, I'm not really sure. For more opportunities to strike out I guess. A little pool, a few beers, you’d think I’d loosen up some but I just can’t talk to chicks like he can. He’s always been the suave one where as I tend to impress with my amazing powers of stumbling over every word I say. No complaints though, some chicks are into the whole bumbling fool thing, so it’s not like I never hook up.
The thing is, of the two of us, I've always been the more dispensable. I’m the one with no attachments to speak of, no significant academic presence, the one with the transitory lifestyle. If my life had ended that night the ripples that would have been caused would have been very small, infinitesimal. And yet I’m the one left to knock around in my empty life.
That’s why it seemed so much simpler to get rid of my stuff instead.
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2 comments:
hmmmm I'm still intrigued by the relationship here... I like the way you are teasing out the relationship bit by bit.
the work needs a little editing though.... the first couple of sentences are a little hard to read as in the flow is not quite right. Other than that, I'm liking the direction, the back and forth between violence and innocence.
keep it up and hope u had fun at the chalet! :D
hmmm interesting... it let me sign in with my google account but not my blogger account....
that's wierd...
oh, its Krispy by the way.. the shotgun comment is mine as well..
I guess I'll be going by Layla here :P
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