rock the boot, don't rock the boot baby. i spent an inordinate amount of time over the weekend, in the boot of a car. well, inordinate might not be right because any amount of time spent in a car boot would normally be classified as excessively abnormal. but let's not go there. and in my defence, we all took turns in the boot. so i'm not weird. actually there were a couple of times we had 2 people in the boot. and when one person needs to fart, it's not pretty.

anyhow, it started with four of us in my friend's new car, which had the distinct privilege of having a sunroof. after we attempted modifying our own 'pimpmobile', ie winding down the windows, blasting the music really loud and hanging out of the sunroof, someone noted that you could crawl into the boot from the backseat.

it's a really trippy experience actually, because it's pitch black in there except when someone jams on the brakes and the brake lights turn your world into a blurry red/pink swirl. the music from the speakers is strangely muffled and louder than normal because of your proximity to them, and the bass really gets rather strong at times. it's rather stuffy and warm, but bearably so. and the highlight of it all was pulling up at some crowded bus stop/loveydovey couple/loveydovey banglas and popping the boot. out crawls a slightly flushed twenty year old, to the amusement/shock/impassivity of the onlookers. really quite fucking amusing. after which, a quick escape, and the cycle began again somewhere else.

then the sun roof also spawned numerous attempts at action-moviesque sequences where we'd drive along while someone hung on to the roof for his dear life. this, expectedly, also created its share of befuddled audiences. all in all, a pretty way to spend the night.

wind down the windows, turn up the music, shield your eyes from the cigarette ash, let's live like this for a while, you and i.
 
i walked home alone with you. 7:52 pm

  "...all i'm asking for is a chance to get over the past and move on. give me a chance to put things right."
"i'll have to think about it."
"no, no, don't think about it. if you think about it the moment will be gone and years later we're going to wonder what would have happened if you had just said yes."

i agree. sometimes, thinking too much can be detrimental, cause a dangerous sort of inertia. just say yes, for the moment, won't you?
 
i walked home alone with you. 5:47 pm

  remember we used to dance. stay or leave/i want you not to go/but you should/it was good, as good goes/stay or leave/i want you not to go/but you did.

some things never do change much really. i guess memories won't ever change, and that's good cos they aren't meant to. and neither will some people, which can be a good or bad thing, depending on how they were in the first place.

but then some things do change, and so do some people. some more than others, and one learns to accept that.

touch the bottom, you and i, with muddy toes.

this would have been our 3rd year and 4 months. but who's counting? no one, really. no one. haha.

so what to do/with the rest of today's afternoon/hey isn't it strange/how we change everything we did/did I do all that i should.

what to do with the rest of today's afternoon? hmm. i don't really know. i'll find out i suppose. but anyhow, goodbye, and i guess i'll see you around.
 
i walked home alone with you. 10:02 pm

  goodbye, goodnight. you know what? i think i'll stop clubbing. yes i've said it before, but this time, i'm actually quite serious about it. said, and done.

and done.
 
i walked home alone with you. 3:10 am

  tomorrow and. you know how it is when you're trying really quite hard to forget something that insists on clinging on to the small hidden bits of your mind and really doesn't want to let go, and just stays there through all the small little niggly details that serve to remind you day after day after day, and three years of accumulated debris does turn up in the weirdest of places.

like on a bus ride.
between the pages of a book.
hidden in a shoebox.
underneath your clothes in a chest of drawers.

it's all in the mind, they always say; well yes, in fact, it is.

 
i walked home alone with you. 9:08 pm

  slightly speechless. There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love.

that's by oscar bloody wilde. picture of dorian gray. my goodness. i'd like to think that this isn't true. but my word, it is, oh yes it is.

and it really makes you wonder what the fuck anything is for, doesn't it. what the fuck, indeed.
 
i walked home alone with you. 10:49 pm

  completely, absolutely brainless. alright this warrants a post on its own. i'd think that half an hour of "heh ok" and "ha alright" conversation consisting of the like would actually inform someone that you have no bloody interest in talking to them, but nooooo.

some people are so damn thick.

oh graaaaaaagh now she insists on telling me how she dances when she bloody hell goes clubbing. just shoot me, somebody.

in the interests of courtesy (my own, lest i explode into a spew of profanities), i shall block her. goodbye little annoying girl, goodbye.
 
i walked home alone with you. 10:40 pm