I don't know about the rest of you, but I like my 3 am ramblings about Lister and dancing. Go! Invade their messageboard... do it for me! Listen to their music! Tell them how great they are! hahaha. Then, when you're done, come back and read my entry from last night. Fun games.
Anyway, on to the real goods... another entry about Pretty Bus Boy [not to be confused with Attitude Bus Boy, who got into a mucho grande fight this weekend!]. For the uninitiated [ie: any new readers or people who haven't been with me when I've seen Pretty Bus Boy], this may seem like some sick kind of stalking. I guess it is. But, it's reverse or mutual stalking, cause we both do it [both being he and I]. In any case, you may want to get some of the history. Check out '4 times in 6 months' in the prose section or 'the boy on the bus' in the poetry section. Or you can try this entry or even this one, which explains the whole story. And, well, this last one. Er, yeah. I talk about him a lot. He's just that... flaming fantastic [with an emphasis on the flaming part, unfortunately].
Enough with the intro, on with the show!
Make that 5 times in 7 months...
Friday, March 2nd, 2001, 9:05 pm
Walking towards Scotiabank to drop off my deposit after work, I see you again. But, of course, I don't realize it's you until I'm standing in front of the deposit slot. Fuck. You were walking with a chick I used to go to D.I. with... I dreamt her name was Renee, but I don't think that's right. I wonder if you attended D.I. as well? Maybe that's the real reason for our... bond. In any case, I was so busy looking at Renee and remembering the superpretty Joel Plaskett lookalike that she used to frequent SilverCity with that I didn't even realize the pretty boy she was with this time around that I was staring at was, well, you.
I didn't even get the chance to see what you were wearing. Only that you weren't wearing your glasses and your hair was a little bit shorter.
By the time I had realized who you really were, it as too late to do anything; you were walking away, outside, out of my life again. As a last ditch effort, I begged Mari to follow you outside with me... but it was no use. You go your way and it's not my way, as it usually is between us.
Someday, someway, maybe we'll be going in the same direction... together.
'Find out what the back of his throat feels like...' - Mari
