Nov 20 2008
We’re going to the zoo
I called you and said, “I don’t know.”
It’s how I begin a lot of my conversations these days. Apathy greets you through my phone.
“Well, what’s wrong?”
“Sam, how have you been?”
I don’t know, I don’t know, Jesus Christ, I don’t know. I feel like I lost a lot today, of myself, and just from reading some words in an email. Damn technology, and damn long distance.
I called you, of all people. I typically would call my ex in situations like this, cry over and over “I don’t know, I don’t know.” But I called you.
And I didn’t cry but thank you for knowing something was up regardless.
“I don’t like this depressed tone in your voice.”
Thank you stranger, for reading my words.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing,” I say. “I pursue relationships or friendships or goals or any path in my life that should yield something, anything and ~”
You interject: “I know what you mean, it’s like you think all these things in your life will help you out, and you pursue them, but when you get to them, they’re just bullshit.”
“Yeah!” I really did exclaim. You still know how I feel even though that exhaustion in your voice which means you’re wicked ripped.
“Did I wake you?” I say, because I really do care. Your voice just sounds so sweet.
“Nah, it’s fucking 8:30 at night, what am I? Nine years old?” You’re just ripped.
You’re so Boston.
“You know what we’re going to do, to cheer you up?” you say. “We’re either going to go to the Boston Museum of Science or the Boston Aquarium.”
Oh my gahd, babe, you’re so Boston.
Thanks like hell, for that. I miss home and I’ve missed you. The aquarium would really be nice. Apathy, we’re going to the zoo.
