and in the end, the love you make is equal to the love you take...
Corpse Bride was great. Harry's mom's play was absolutely amazing. Harry, of course, was wonderful. And somehow, at the risk of sounding horribly cliché, Friday became even greater than the sum of its parts.
Since I got him sick, I can't really blame Harry for wanting to sleep in Saturday morning. I just went to my thrift market with my mom and then headed over to try to make him feel a little better. I fed Harry some Tylenol, read most of A Clockwork Orange, stooped in for an occassional kiss and fought the urge to wake him up. My parents let my lie on a sofa for three days without eating with a 104º fever once. I guess I don't really know how to treat people who are sick. My instincts tell me to wake them up at eight and put them on a bean-bag chair and put in a movie, or maybe get out some ice cream or jello or something.
Anyway, Harry got up eventually and had some soup and then we went to the Mac store and generally wandered around SoHo and wound up eating delicious Mexican food with hot chocolate for dessert and skipping the Brotherhood Sound show, which I didn't really mind, honestly, because I wasn't really in the mood for a crowd of people, and Harry really didn't want to go. But when Harry went back to college, I found myself with time on my hands. Matt told me to head down to his house, and half an hour later I was eating Mallomars amongst the mildly drunk and discussing life.
Pretty soon, though, we wound up at another party that seemed more dull than the first. Oona had already left, and Lucas and Clark had already been lost to the guitars. Rachel, Nick and I talked with a guy named Alex for a while and then Matt, Nick and I all hit the road and wound up at my house drinking tea. It was all very strange. The only part of the day I hadn't enjoyed had been the second party. We'd liked Alex, but he sort of hit on me a little and I interjected something about "isn't it crazy, this shirt is my boyfriend's, I saw him this morning..." but he gave me his number anyway. My parents were already asleep when we came home, and Matt was kind of tipsy, and Nick knew a lot about Russian lit, it was all generally enjoyable.
I fell asleep in Harry's shirt and dreamed that I died and roses grew out of the eyes of my corpse and Queen Anne's Lace grew from my fingers and water-lilies grew down my legs and the people came by and smiled.
I don't really like how this post turned out. It seems a little flat. It's all true, though.
Since I got him sick, I can't really blame Harry for wanting to sleep in Saturday morning. I just went to my thrift market with my mom and then headed over to try to make him feel a little better. I fed Harry some Tylenol, read most of A Clockwork Orange, stooped in for an occassional kiss and fought the urge to wake him up. My parents let my lie on a sofa for three days without eating with a 104º fever once. I guess I don't really know how to treat people who are sick. My instincts tell me to wake them up at eight and put them on a bean-bag chair and put in a movie, or maybe get out some ice cream or jello or something.
Anyway, Harry got up eventually and had some soup and then we went to the Mac store and generally wandered around SoHo and wound up eating delicious Mexican food with hot chocolate for dessert and skipping the Brotherhood Sound show, which I didn't really mind, honestly, because I wasn't really in the mood for a crowd of people, and Harry really didn't want to go. But when Harry went back to college, I found myself with time on my hands. Matt told me to head down to his house, and half an hour later I was eating Mallomars amongst the mildly drunk and discussing life.
Pretty soon, though, we wound up at another party that seemed more dull than the first. Oona had already left, and Lucas and Clark had already been lost to the guitars. Rachel, Nick and I talked with a guy named Alex for a while and then Matt, Nick and I all hit the road and wound up at my house drinking tea. It was all very strange. The only part of the day I hadn't enjoyed had been the second party. We'd liked Alex, but he sort of hit on me a little and I interjected something about "isn't it crazy, this shirt is my boyfriend's, I saw him this morning..." but he gave me his number anyway. My parents were already asleep when we came home, and Matt was kind of tipsy, and Nick knew a lot about Russian lit, it was all generally enjoyable.
I fell asleep in Harry's shirt and dreamed that I died and roses grew out of the eyes of my corpse and Queen Anne's Lace grew from my fingers and water-lilies grew down my legs and the people came by and smiled.
I don't really like how this post turned out. It seems a little flat. It's all true, though.
posted by VVM at 6:26 AM
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