Image Dump

First a little life business, then the images.

Ok, so, some of you may remember the mention of an unnamed freshman guy I said I had "acquired" in early September. I actually deleted the only post in which I mentioned him (for an unrelated reason), so even a semi-frequent reader may have missed it.

I saw it as a very temporary situation, perhaps a rebound after my last break-up. I was surprised as all hell when he got my number off of FB and called me after our first night together. And even after that, you know, I ordered the kid around, treated him with a tad bit of disdain (so shoot me, it was therapeutic, dammit); hell, I figured he'd get fed up and stop coming back. Now, getting close to three months later, I guess that's not entirely the case.

Don't get the wrong idea. It's still very much a casual thing. It's just... not a nothing thing anymore.

The point is, his name is Brendan. I just figured he deserved to be named here on the BcL, you know? So there it is.


Tuesday, November 14
Location: Olin Library

Dammit, I can't remember his name. I can see him, sitting there in the Ruby computer lab that night I finally asked what his name was. He told me and I swear I intended to remember. I can remember the length of his hair, the place he was sitting in the room, the look of the laptop he was working on alongside me at 1 or 2 in the morning and yet for all of that...

I smile and enjoy the conversation. And I laugh, while a seed of guilt sits heavily in my stomach.


Wednesday, November 15
Location: Hurd 44 Balcony

Laptop open and abandoned behind me, I step out into the wind. I shiver and shake as the frigid air lifts my curls and freezes my fingertips. I will go inside soon, back to the warmth and a half-written paper, but for now, I am flying.


Thursday, November 16
Location: Hurd Kitchen

The smell of apples, all spice, and chocolate chips blends and makes its way up the staircase. It's times like these that I love college, that I love life. It's so amazingly simple, and the pleasure I get from it flies in the face of the somewhat habitually cynical attitudes I indulge in.

I take a sip of hot cider and this, too, melts away.


Friday, November 17
Location: Performing Arts Department Lounge

Dada theatre. Nonsense words. Adore. Randomality. Stage. Protest. War. Shit. Circus. Screams and laughs and an epiphany or two. We plan, play and let go of convention. We are liberated.

Lamplighters.


Saturday, November 18
Location: Hurd 442

We stood in the middle of the room, lit by stained-glass light bulbs and the glowstick still hanging around my neck. It seems so tacky in retrospect. So... college. But in the moment, it didn't bother me. We'd left the oppressive crowd behind and had found our own evening entertainment. Something that thankfully didn't involve fighting for room to breath.

I closed my eyes and leaned against him, losing myself in the warmth of his touch.
This was what the night was all about, the very reason he'd even agreed to step foot into Lopata Gallery. An exchange.


Sunday, November 19
Location: Grass outside Hurd

Searching, flashlight in hand. Please please PLEASE let it be here. We comb the area as much as we can stand, hoping for luck or a tiny miracle. Hoping to see the glint of a key hiding in the darkness between dead leaves and blades of grass. But alas, the universe fails us and hope is somewhat lost. Tomorrow, I tell myself. All I can do is count on tomorrow.


I'm not nearly as happy with these as I have been with some of my others. Bleh...