Chapter Six: I'll kill us all!

So thank goodness I didn't post last night. I had a fraction of an entry going, but it was getting awfully morose and I could tell, so I nixed it.

So, for example, I wrote:

I'm feeling a little detached.

It was a lonely, quiet weekend. Too much solitude, despite seeing Amanda. Getting buried beneath my psyche, feeling isolated. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm a little bummed out about nothing in particular.

From there I went into a kinda halfhearted, ineffectual attempt to cheer myself up with words, eventually going into the "I'm so lonely a bu bu bu" sad-sack Scotto nobody likes to see, but we get plenty of anyway.

So, still having some semblance of self-awareness despite my detachment (which I still kinda feel) I stowed that one away, knowing I'd just regret it later if I posted the whole thing. Nobody wants Sad Scotto, except possibly when combined with Drunk Scotto, which is apparently very amusing for everyone (myself included, to a point.)

Anyway, the change of heart didn't occur after a good night's sleep or some life-changing moment. All I did was read some stories for class, "The Lottery" and "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," which are actually incredibly dark stories, so why they brightened my spirits I don't know. Also, apparently the dates on some of these stories were switched without my awareness (?) so we ended up discussing "Death in Venice" the entire class, since it's basically a novel and I wouldn't have read it even if I'd known I was supposed to.

I finished a story for the first time in what-feels-like-years the other day. I mentioned I was getting back to writing in the previous post, but the feeling of finishing something, even something short, is very pleasant. In fact, knowing I didn't succumb to the desire to lay out every character's background and motivation and stretch the 6 pages (as is) into 12 is somethiong I'm very proud of. I mentioned the other day about brevity - really, the key word for me here is subtlety, because for once in my goddamn life I was working with a metaphor, and really metaphors are fragile things, and if you wring them out to much you just crush them to pieces. This one, back when I was overwriting by habit, I thought "Oh there's not much to this concept, I'm going to have to tack on a bunch of shit," but I'm sure that I got it right this time. It's exactly what I needed it to be. I'm not going to go back and re-write every story into vagueness -- although when I lost my harddrive I lost two stories I was not particularly fond of, that could use some mystique now that I have the perspective.

Man, I'm fired up. I love thinking about writing, and I flat-out just love having motivation to write finally.

So two weeks ago -- on my birthday as a matter of fact -- I described an inadvertent creep session frm St. George to Union and onto the GO train between me and this girl I described as "kinda plain-looking" not meant as an insult to her, but to de-emphasize her looks that I wasn't, like, slobbering over some hot chick. And then I wrote "Whatever. It's done." Except it wasn't.

What I'm getting at is that I ran into her again at Union. I was tossing out my coffee cup, bobbing my head to "U-Mass" by the Pixies, when this girl tosses me a nod of recognition. I glance over and realize I don't recognize her, so I think, "Am I having one of those days where I look like Zac Efron?" And it turns out that, no, no, I never look like Zac Efron. I eventually recognized the fact that this was the girl from two weeks ago, so we stood next to each other a while, waiting for the train, iPods in. When we got on, she sat across from me, and finally it was like "Okay, we're doing this." So we started to talk.

It was just a normal conversation, the likes people have when they are first getting to know each other. It is a lot easier meeting someone in person than online because the impetus for conversation - natural conversation, with flow and body language - is there, rather than the awkwardness of the blinking cursor. We both agreed it was nice, but weird, to actually talk to someone on the train. I've written stories about it but never thought it was actually possible. I often find myself in situations similar to those I have already written about.

I should write more stories where I get laid.

Anyway, she was a pretty cool girl, and rather than re-enacting Serendipity (I'd rather re-enact High Fidelity) I added her on Facebook. She doesn't seem to be unattached, which takes away some of the appeal but hey, still, new friend.

Hell, I even mentioned my play, and she asked when it was. When I told her, and she said "Oh too bad, I'll be in BC after the 30th." So I asked "Would you really have come to the play of some random dude you met on the train?" Apparently so!

We also talked about the various associations one has with the song "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. For me, that song has a very particular association now, although that's not really my story to tell.

Well anyway, that's all got me in a pretty good mood. I've filled my quota of being part of society this week, nothing left to prove.

Tomorrow, the plan is to help a friend study. Good luck with that. Thanks, me.

The rest of you keep on rockin'
-Scotto