i'm glad gabe moved so now i can learn a new part of minneapolis. he lives in phillips. the ghetto, supposedly. two days ago, a cop pulled up to a "suspicious" car (someone was standing next to it talking to the driver). the car raced away, and, two blocks later, hit an SUV, which rolled and the driver was killed. this was one block away from gabe's house (it happened at 5:45 pm, when i was at his house, but i was in the shower. no one else was home). the article said the area is a focus for police because it's known for drug dealing and prostitution. i've never seen anything suspicious around there, but who knows. at least now i know where i can buy drugs (just kidding) (they're probably only selling crack anyway).
i've walked and/or biked in every direction from his house, and i like the neighborhood. lots of old houses and little kids riding around 2 or 3 on a bike at the same time. today i rode due west to muddy waters and drank coffee and actually worked on one of my papers. i have to reread some things i already read cause when i read them the first time i was on dope and my memory of them is really fuzzy. i did all my reading high for the last month of school, not realizing that, although i remembered it fine for class the next day, it wasn't sticking in my head. if i had known that i would have done the same thing, but oh well. it doesn't help that i'm trying to write the papers 2 months after school ended.
last night gabe and i went to a zine event/ art show, where a bunch of gabe's friends' bands played. we looked at all the art and critiqued it ruthlessly. there was free beer, and i managed to finish one. i never drink, so one drink makes me pretty tipsy. sometimes i wish i liked alcohol. a socially acceptable addiction.
this guy i used to work with last summer was in one of the bands (he was the other bike delivery person for the sandwich shop). i said, "remember me?" he said, "yeah! your hair is longer." when everyone was packing up their stuff i talked to him again. he said, "you seem a lot more... relaxed. last year you were kind of tense." i said, "really? well, i'm a little drunk. i don't know. i'm always tense." he said, "so where've you been? portland, right?" these conversations inevitabley lead to me saying something to the effect of, i got strung out on heroin and came back to get clean (twice). there's no other way to explain my sullenness at being back here, and i'd rather tell the truth than try to hide it, like some of my friends do. i figure if the person can't accept who i am or what i've done, they aren't worth being friends with.
the interesting part is watching what each person's reaction is. it tells me something about them. he looked at me like a mother looks at her kid who just fell and scraped her knee. he said, "ohhh!" sympathetically and hugged me. i was kind of surprised. (did i mention i have a crush on this boy? i hope he's not reading this. fuck.) he said he was glad i came back, it's better than being dead. (everyone seems to think i was on the brink of death). we talked a bit more and he kept hugging me. i would feel special except i saw him hugging almost everyone else there. sigh. later gabe made me tell cory who i had a crush on, and cory said, "who doesn't??" fine. i'm just like everyone else.
gabe and i biked home around midnight, singing. i love biking in minneapolis because it's so flat you never have to get out of breath. we stopped on the west bank and had a drink at some bar, and stole an almost full plate of fried potato things from the table of some people who were leaving. free food is the best. i drank about a third of my beer and let gabe finish it. later he drank at least 5 more. i don't know how he does it.
lately all i want to do is ride my bike (virginia's bike). it makes me feel better than anything else... i got up this morning and left as soon as i could just so i could ride somewhere. virginia's bike is a brown schwinn from 1975 or so. i like boy's bikes because you have to swing your leg around over the back wheel to get on, unless you want to try to get your leg over the bar, which is annoying. it makes me feel like a dancer. i would buy a boy's bike except sometimes i like to ride in a skirt. it's hard to find a girl's bike when you're picky like me. i like old bikes. but they have to be in perfect condition and be light, because i like to ride fast. when i go in bike stores they never think i'm "serious" cause i'm wearing a fragile flowered dress and sandals, or whatever. they show me clunky 3 speed cruisers. i say, "i want a good bike."
the title of this entry is a bright eyes lyric. it does not in any way reflect the views or opinions of this writer. (ok, maybe a little).