ghosts & admissons

Home coming...

My home town is mediocre by all accounts. Its tiny, but void of rural charm. Its quiet, but rumours are still viscous. It sits in a valley with marsh on all sides. On the long drive into town you receive no reception, the radio only plays static, an apt soundtrack given your destination. They say all roads out of town lead uphill, which is true for most, apparently too steep to even warrant trying for some. So those who stay lament the fact that everyone interesting has already left, or they drive around drunk killing each other. Make shift memorials dot the streets, crosses and flowers dangle from guard rails. Letters to the deceased blow around in the wind like onion skins (which blow around a lot like leaves do, but there's tones of them in my town)

Despite all this I do enjoy coming back. I miss the pregnant teenagers, I miss the boarded up businesses. I miss the chicken wings that still have feathers on them. Mmmmm delish! One of the best parts of this trip was sitting at the local bar, and hearing a pretty good description of what a lot of us here are collectively feeling. After high school it's harder to get closer to people. Those who are already on the inside, stay on the inside, whether or not your relationship as of late really qualifies them to be in that position. And those on the outside have a much harder time getting welcomed in. I guess with the distraction of all the other people you meet through life away at school, or on the job, you select a few good friends who represent the very best of your childhood and let them be the emissaries of your past while excluding the vast majority of those you grew up with.

So heres my list; which is also TJ's, Ryan's, Matt's, and Mike's list. Its TJ, Ryan, Matt and Mike. So we all share privileged positions in each other lives. These are the first people who's eye you catch when an old Grade favourite comes on. Or the first person you turn to to have duelling air guitar wars or grow team beards with.

So last night, after this intimate and telling discussion, which included a lot of "I love you man" and macho hugging, one of the guys on my list kicked my ass. So this is two weekends in a row now that this has happened and I'm starting to get pissed. So now I have the metallic taste of blood still in my mouth from my split lip and the chewed inside of my cheek. My nose burns from the abrasion from the carpet. My neck inflamed in a cruel razor rash from when he grabbed me by my throat. And my head on fire from the numerous shots that left the top of my head dented from his Queen's graduate ring.

And of course, true to form, I didn't throw a single punch. How courageous of me. I remember after the last fight, the need to think and react, and not just get pummelled. Well it was more of the same, I kind of just let it happen and didn't try and influence the outcome. What the hell.

posted by El Chupacabra @ 4:08 PM