This is an honor. Thanks guys. You’re the best.
Him: Oh hey.
Me: What? Shit. Hey! Happy Thanksgiving.
Him: Happy Thanksgiving sweetie. Are you here alone?
Me: Yeah. I went to a few friends. Now I’m here. I don’t know why. Where’s Jason?
Him: He went to get cigarettes, he’ll be back in 20 minutes or so.
Me: Ugh. You guys are still smoking? I thought you almost kicked that when we were together…
Him: I never really stopped. I just only had 2 or 3 a week.
Me: I know. I smelled it on you, from time to time. I didn’t always mention it.
Him: I knew you knew.
Me: I knew you knew I knew.
Him: I knew that too.
Me: We were very passive aggressive towards each other.
Him: We were. You are.
Me: Okay, okay. Thanks for saying hi!
Me: I understand you and Jason bought a car and a house together.
Him: I guess word travels fast.
Me: I hear things. We’re both in comedy. People talk.
Him: It’s funny, I’d never think to say that. “I’m in comedy.”
Me: You are. The bulk of your money comes from comedy.
Him: I think of myself more as a writer.
Me: Yes. You’ve gotten very good.
Him: Oh, have you read?
Me: Yes. I follow you online, here and there, when I can stomach it.
Me: Oh stop. I’m sure you don’t read my blog.
Him: That’s correct – I don’t.
Me: Okay so, fine. Well I read your stuff sometimes. You’ve gotten quite good.
Him: I’m glad you think so.
Me: I mean, I’m not nuts about reading about myself, but it’s very good writing, so that’s flattering, I guess.
Him: I don’t write about you. I write fiction.
Me: But some things are based on me.
Him: Some elements of some of my characters share parts of your behavior patterns or point of view. But I wouldn’t say I’m writing about you.
Me: No, of course you wouldn’t. But even so, it’s funny that as soon as I start recognizing myself in your writing, the very next thing I notice is an attitude of contempt from the narrator toward the ‘me’ character. It’s not my favorite thing in the world.
Him: You’ll never believe this, but I don’t write about you.
Me: I don’t write about you often, either. It’s good writing, Carson. Congrats on getting published. That’s huge. And I heard about the grant too.
Him: It’s political. I’m good at politics.
Me: You’re a good writer.
Him: Well thank you.
Me: You’re welcome. And you’re right. I’ll never believe that you’re not writing about me. We lived together for 8 years. I worked you through grad school.
Him: Let’s not start down this path again.
Me: Of course not. It’s a holiday, and in any case I have no regrets.
Him: I’m glad to hear that. Neither do I.
Me: How big of us.
(a very long pause. we stare across the bar and survey the crowd. we don’t make eye contact)
To Be Continued…
From time to time people send me stuff on the internet. Usually it’s pies, or photographs of themselves naked, or not naked. Or all of the above. I think I scratch some sort of voyeuristic itch, maybe, for people – and they want to share in that feeling. To be seen. To bear witness to one another. Then again. Maybe people are just pervy.
That I can also live with.
Sometimes, people send me other stuff. Usually I don’t post it if it isn’t pie related or naked. Those are really my two demographics, right, guys? I’m going to answer for you, since you’re not writing this: YES.
This is Lex Millena
Lex desscribes himself like this: A Jack of all trades but master of mediocrity, he strives for the idealistic image of perfection. He is a purveyor of dreams and an information hoarder. His insatiable lust for memories results in photographs, notebooks and songs all combating a fear of a transient mind strung around by shiny things. A subtle voice with obnoxious hair with the intent of being heard without saying a word.
Like I said. He goes to art school.
Here, I’ll prove it to you:
Hm? What’s the fucking point, PIEFOLK? Good question. Well. I’ve been thinking of my ex boyfriend lately. His name is Carter and he’s a good man. Distracted, and wonderful, and wistful. He’s one of those people – you meet him and you know he’s kind before he even opens his mouth. He and I met 3 days after 9/11, in a Manhattan bar called Barracuda.
I’m not going to post a pic of him, because he strikes me as more private than all that, but trust me. He looks like a honey bear. Sitting on the shelf of a well lit sub-urban market. Glistening with perfect honey inside.
Carter’s going through a rough time right now.
Hm? What’s this got to do with the art school kid? Oh. This:
Lex, the naked guy from earlier? He made this video. It’s really powerful storytelling, I think. Especially the long walk up the dark stairs, and the smelling of the shirt.
I saw this and I couldn’t help but think of Carter. I found it incredibly moving.
Lex. Thanks for making me cry with your art school video. Jerk.
p.s. Lex asked me 1)if i know Zach Woods and 2)if he’s gay