Discourse with the damned
Nov. 23rd, 2003 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silverfae9Toby just called me. It went like this:
Toby: Mouse, I have news for you.
me: I certainly hope so. I haven't heard from you in -weeks-...I thought maybe you were kidnapped by space aliens or something.
Toby: No way, dude, I met a girl.
me: Same thing. Name, rank, and serial number?
Toby: Shut up, asshole. It's not even like that this time. This one's -marriage material-.
me: Marriage material? What, like, she's got a matching set of aprons and pot holders?
Toby: Unlikely. But I feel like she could meet my mom and my mom wouldn't compare her to you.
me: I was thinking about stopping by your mom's while I'm in Florida, by the way. But Tobes...marriage?
Toby: Well, it's time I was thinking about it. I'll be 30 in a matter of months.
me: In a matter of 28 months.
Toby: That's soon enough. I'm tired of jumping from person to person. I just want to pick someone and give it a real shot.
me: I commend your adventurous spirit. You're a treat.
Toby: Mouse, she's read Steppenwolf.
me: What? And how does she feel about The Princess Bride?
Toby: She loves it.
me: And Dire Strait's "Romeo and Juilet."
Toby: Loves that too.
me: so you're telling me that you're dating my dream, uh, woman?
Toby: Essentially. Which reminds me...how's stuff with the tall thin bookish one?
me: Well...I made him muffins.
Toby: You did what? You're kidding me...muffins? You've become that girl.
me: Yeah, that's what Sarah said too.
Toby: How does that work, exactly?
me: It's funny, Tobes, but I feel like I'm losing bits of my personality. My old quirks are disappearing but I don't seem to be making any new ones.
Toby: Are you avoiding my question?
me: Maybe. But ok, it's like this: last night, we had a discussion about bar codes...their history and suchlike. It was more a lecture, really, since I didn't have much to add. But it was terribly interesting and I felt at home there in the moment. It's just that that doesn't happen so often anymore. I feel as though I'm always talking at cross purposes, confusing everything...that I'm becoming less interesting.
Toby: Mouse, I sincerely doubt that you're less interesting. Maybe just a different kind of interesting.
me: Don't be nurturing.
Toby: Very well...but what does this have to do with muffins?
me: Well, I have sort of become that girl...a softer, less showy version. But I wonder what's going to happen when I come out the other side; if I'll still have a fan club at the other end.
Toby: Dunno, champ, but I'll be there to find out.
me: Sure, with your new wife.
The phone rang at 3 am, and whenever the phone rings in the middle of the night I immediately assume the worst. They didn't leave a message and so I'll never know what was going on...maybe it really was the worst.
Each time the bird tries to land the wind gusts and it is picked back up into the air. It flies around the trees a bit in a "I meant for that to happen" sort of way, and then tries again. The wind gusts, and it's launched back out. Eventually it manages to land and, satisfied with its accomplishment, it flies away.
Toby: Mouse, I have news for you.
me: I certainly hope so. I haven't heard from you in -weeks-...I thought maybe you were kidnapped by space aliens or something.
Toby: No way, dude, I met a girl.
me: Same thing. Name, rank, and serial number?
Toby: Shut up, asshole. It's not even like that this time. This one's -marriage material-.
me: Marriage material? What, like, she's got a matching set of aprons and pot holders?
Toby: Unlikely. But I feel like she could meet my mom and my mom wouldn't compare her to you.
me: I was thinking about stopping by your mom's while I'm in Florida, by the way. But Tobes...marriage?
Toby: Well, it's time I was thinking about it. I'll be 30 in a matter of months.
me: In a matter of 28 months.
Toby: That's soon enough. I'm tired of jumping from person to person. I just want to pick someone and give it a real shot.
me: I commend your adventurous spirit. You're a treat.
Toby: Mouse, she's read Steppenwolf.
me: What? And how does she feel about The Princess Bride?
Toby: She loves it.
me: And Dire Strait's "Romeo and Juilet."
Toby: Loves that too.
me: so you're telling me that you're dating my dream, uh, woman?
Toby: Essentially. Which reminds me...how's stuff with the tall thin bookish one?
me: Well...I made him muffins.
Toby: You did what? You're kidding me...muffins? You've become that girl.
me: Yeah, that's what Sarah said too.
Toby: How does that work, exactly?
me: It's funny, Tobes, but I feel like I'm losing bits of my personality. My old quirks are disappearing but I don't seem to be making any new ones.
Toby: Are you avoiding my question?
me: Maybe. But ok, it's like this: last night, we had a discussion about bar codes...their history and suchlike. It was more a lecture, really, since I didn't have much to add. But it was terribly interesting and I felt at home there in the moment. It's just that that doesn't happen so often anymore. I feel as though I'm always talking at cross purposes, confusing everything...that I'm becoming less interesting.
Toby: Mouse, I sincerely doubt that you're less interesting. Maybe just a different kind of interesting.
me: Don't be nurturing.
Toby: Very well...but what does this have to do with muffins?
me: Well, I have sort of become that girl...a softer, less showy version. But I wonder what's going to happen when I come out the other side; if I'll still have a fan club at the other end.
Toby: Dunno, champ, but I'll be there to find out.
me: Sure, with your new wife.
The phone rang at 3 am, and whenever the phone rings in the middle of the night I immediately assume the worst. They didn't leave a message and so I'll never know what was going on...maybe it really was the worst.
Each time the bird tries to land the wind gusts and it is picked back up into the air. It flies around the trees a bit in a "I meant for that to happen" sort of way, and then tries again. The wind gusts, and it's launched back out. Eventually it manages to land and, satisfied with its accomplishment, it flies away.
