call an ambulance
i had this song in my head all night while we were bowling and i just now figured out what it was. i'll keep it to myself... on to another lovely album i have a good feeling about.
bowling was wonderful as always. it just brings out the best in my, don't know why. there were only four of us this week so we only got one lane, in between a couple black college guys and a cute mid-20's white couple to our left. the guy had buzzed blond hair, a beard, a wifebeater, and these light tan plaid shorts that managed to look both comfortable and unpretentious... a feat for plaid shorts. hell, they even look like something i might wear. the girl had short blond hair and looked fairly reserved. she was cute, though. neither of them knew what they were doing but bowled fairly well anyway. she had a little butterfly tattoo right at the back of her skull. cute.
the first couple games were spent trying to win, you know. finally, around the end of the third game, we all just started fucking up and trying fun shit - only half an hour left in the night. the fourth game was entirely, well, shenanigans.
anytime someone would try to get ready to bowl backwards between their legs, you could always sneak up behind them and throw another ball first. i tried the backwards thing a couple times, the first throw being the best. once, after the white couple left, i stood in their lane with a little pink 8lb ball. i tossed it into our lane with a spin, catching it right on the left edge so that it slid out to the middle of the lane and curved right down to the center of the pins. i was proud of that one. i tried bowling with the cute girl's ball a couple times - it a flat pink 8lber with tiny finger holes. it acted aloof, always missed everything the first time i'd throw...
the best throw of the night, hands down, was the last. my friend went up and basically dropped her brown ball so that it ambled down the lane slowly. there were about five pins at the end, scattered at the left side. another girl made some comment about how it would never get there. i picked up one of the pink balls and waited. seeing what i was doing, everyone told me to go ahead and throw it but i didn't want to be late or early, as the machine arm would come down and block the last ball. i waited till i had it timed right and threw a quick, hard left-curve. her ball hit the left side of center, knocking right - towards center, pushing a pin ahead of it. about the time it hit center, my ball came in at a right proper clip from the right, exploding the center and sending all types of balls and pins to the left side, taking out everything else. i spun around, hands in the air. all the black kids were giving us props - whoaaa - and all the old black guys to our left were looking at them - did you see what they just did?? i just strutted back, received due high-fives and sat down, muttering about how that there was the last shot. that was it. it's over now. i wish i had a video of that now...
sorry, that was a really long bowling story.
frotteurism (n) - the paraphiliac practice of achieving sexual stimulation or orgasm by touching and rubbing against a person without the person's consent and usually in a public place. (m-w)
ok, not exactly. i'll discreetly stare at certain people from across the room. make awkward conversation with a petite cheerleader who roomed with a friend two years ago. i'll follow a pretty girl walking, especially if she's smoking and i can take it in. secondhand smoke doesn't count, after all. i was running in the woods today - actually, around this time, catching up with two friends who didn't feel like waiting while i stretched - and passed by a mother and daughter walking in the other direction. for a couple seconds afterwards, i could smell their combined scent on the breeze. makes running a lot easier.
all i want is for you to come crawling back. crawling back to me.
with my eyes closed in the near dark, this song reminds me of heroin. trainspotting was on last night... makes it almost seem like an acceptable idea. in my mind, i'm standing on the side of a small hill between a forest and a soccer field. there are mole tunnels in the ground and i'm sticking a small pipe in them, searching for a good spot, explaining to my friends present that the junk... it's like water when you've run two miles. it's like being hungry even as you're so full you feel sick. being thirsty when your mouth is full of drink. it's such a feeling of loss, even after the first time, of emptiness, of need so overwhelming you lose yourself in it. that's what this song feels like. i don't want it to end.
bowling was wonderful as always. it just brings out the best in my, don't know why. there were only four of us this week so we only got one lane, in between a couple black college guys and a cute mid-20's white couple to our left. the guy had buzzed blond hair, a beard, a wifebeater, and these light tan plaid shorts that managed to look both comfortable and unpretentious... a feat for plaid shorts. hell, they even look like something i might wear. the girl had short blond hair and looked fairly reserved. she was cute, though. neither of them knew what they were doing but bowled fairly well anyway. she had a little butterfly tattoo right at the back of her skull. cute.
the first couple games were spent trying to win, you know. finally, around the end of the third game, we all just started fucking up and trying fun shit - only half an hour left in the night. the fourth game was entirely, well, shenanigans.
anytime someone would try to get ready to bowl backwards between their legs, you could always sneak up behind them and throw another ball first. i tried the backwards thing a couple times, the first throw being the best. once, after the white couple left, i stood in their lane with a little pink 8lb ball. i tossed it into our lane with a spin, catching it right on the left edge so that it slid out to the middle of the lane and curved right down to the center of the pins. i was proud of that one. i tried bowling with the cute girl's ball a couple times - it a flat pink 8lber with tiny finger holes. it acted aloof, always missed everything the first time i'd throw...
the best throw of the night, hands down, was the last. my friend went up and basically dropped her brown ball so that it ambled down the lane slowly. there were about five pins at the end, scattered at the left side. another girl made some comment about how it would never get there. i picked up one of the pink balls and waited. seeing what i was doing, everyone told me to go ahead and throw it but i didn't want to be late or early, as the machine arm would come down and block the last ball. i waited till i had it timed right and threw a quick, hard left-curve. her ball hit the left side of center, knocking right - towards center, pushing a pin ahead of it. about the time it hit center, my ball came in at a right proper clip from the right, exploding the center and sending all types of balls and pins to the left side, taking out everything else. i spun around, hands in the air. all the black kids were giving us props - whoaaa - and all the old black guys to our left were looking at them - did you see what they just did?? i just strutted back, received due high-fives and sat down, muttering about how that there was the last shot. that was it. it's over now. i wish i had a video of that now...
sorry, that was a really long bowling story.
frotteurism (n) - the paraphiliac practice of achieving sexual stimulation or orgasm by touching and rubbing against a person without the person's consent and usually in a public place. (m-w)
ok, not exactly. i'll discreetly stare at certain people from across the room. make awkward conversation with a petite cheerleader who roomed with a friend two years ago. i'll follow a pretty girl walking, especially if she's smoking and i can take it in. secondhand smoke doesn't count, after all. i was running in the woods today - actually, around this time, catching up with two friends who didn't feel like waiting while i stretched - and passed by a mother and daughter walking in the other direction. for a couple seconds afterwards, i could smell their combined scent on the breeze. makes running a lot easier.
all i want is for you to come crawling back. crawling back to me.
with my eyes closed in the near dark, this song reminds me of heroin. trainspotting was on last night... makes it almost seem like an acceptable idea. in my mind, i'm standing on the side of a small hill between a forest and a soccer field. there are mole tunnels in the ground and i'm sticking a small pipe in them, searching for a good spot, explaining to my friends present that the junk... it's like water when you've run two miles. it's like being hungry even as you're so full you feel sick. being thirsty when your mouth is full of drink. it's such a feeling of loss, even after the first time, of emptiness, of need so overwhelming you lose yourself in it. that's what this song feels like. i don't want it to end.
posted by sunshine at 12:05 AM
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