after new year’s i get to see the man who i spent too many of my formative years completely in love with; luckily it wasn’t all for naught because he made me do things like listen to belle and sebastian and watch all of woody allen’s movies. You know, that guy. (clap your hands say yeah played at a kegger at his house once.) (i did not know who they were.)

he witnessed my discovery of beat poetry and enrollment in WRITING WORKSHOPS and he started a band and dj-ed at the college radio station and we dreamed of grad school but didn’t ever apply. we’d meet each other between classes and talk excitedly about what we had just learned and smile and sigh and drive to coffee shops and used bookstores off campus, where we’d talk about love constantly but never make it.

after graduation he went to new zealand and i went to new york and we called each other with calling cards from park benches and emailed when we weren’t doing that and i cried into my journal over him in whatever time was left over.

then he came home from NZ and i rented a van on money borrowed from a friend and drove through the night to meet him in tennessee. i got there at 4:30 and we stayed up late looking at pictures and youtube videos and he handed me my purse and walked me to the guest room and then i left the next day and cried for about another year. i remember understanding, or rationalizing, even then that what had counted was how excited i was on the drive down, the mixtape i made and how i squealed manically into the phone to every person who would listen, the way I believed, truly believed, that all of my waiting had not been in vain.

So he lives in china now as the story goes and is bringing his chinese gf to new york in a few weeks and we are all gonna hang out like adults or some approximation thereof, which is yes, a scenario I imagine will fit perfectly into the mumblecore movie script i am constantly compiling! hooray!