So I landed here, Saturday, late evening-ish. I had planned to take a bus to Philly later that night to stay the winter at a house we owned there. Turned out that they didn't run to Philly as often as I expected. In fact, the next one was to leave only early next morning...
"Does it matter how many periods there are at the end of the last paragraph?!" "Wouldn't you rather it be two?" He really cared how many periods there were at the end of that paragraph. It bothered him. I'm still not sure why. When I enquired, he seemed too ashamed to say.
He banged his fist on the table once. I thought I saw him tearing a couple of times. He seemed so confused. And he was equally confusing.
He randomly brought up manual transmissions. His dream manual transmission BMW. Virtue. Lies. Blame. Identity. Pleasures. Needs. Taste. Wine. Abstinence. Piety. The secrets. That disgusting man. But wasn't he as well? Of course he was. The innumerable secrets. So full of evil. And each time, mid-conversation, he control-tabbed back to his exam review. He always eventually did.
Before I knew it, he had started singing along to a song. It went on for a while, culminating in, "Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?" But he yanked at the cord right then, glanced across at something, stared blankly for a few, and.. exam review.
It was dusk. The air around him was cold. Not as cold, though. But those were the days. Was that a can of deodorant in his hands? His teeth were showing. Then it went blank. And then came the regret. Flowing like hot antiseptic would flow through an open wound.
How, when he made himself believe, he gave it his all. How, when he was unsure, he couldn't. How, when he convinced himself otherwise, he was a beast. How he changed his mind. Ever so often. How he blamed his genes. How pathetic he was. Ever so pathetic. How full of flaws he was. Ever so full of flaws. How he can't maintain consistency of tense in his writing. Ever so inconsistent. How lacking he is. Ever so lacking. Dear God, those desires. Ever so pathetic.
How he wished he was no more than the subset of him that he "wanted" to be. How he carefully managed what the world saw. How he lost control with certain people. Only to an extent, though. He wouldn't dare go further. How he was more. So much more. Mostly bad. Not too much good.
How desperately he wanted to hit reset.
He was tearing now.
