Five hours in transit to see Darkside for two hours? So worth it.
Next time, I shall call him, and he shall meet me at the mall, I think, and bring me home.
Finally figured out that GIP stands for Gratuitous Icon Post.
He's still hot. Slender martial artist body, dark blond hair getting longer. It curls, when it's left to itself, about as much as mine.
There's something about his body heat. He feels warmer than he actually is. It soaks through me and relaxes all of me, better than soaking in the hot tub. I guess it's knowing he loves all of me, not just the surface that he sees. Now that I know why he doesn't want to get romantically involved with me, I can give him the time and space and patience he needs to chill out about that.
As long as I know that I mean so much to him that he won't risk his friendship with me, I can relax and not try to stick with him overtightly. That's all I really needed, to know how very much he cares. He's not used to the idea of romance involving him. Somehow I've slipped past his primary guards.
Forever friends. That's the kind we are.
I stood behind him while he was perched on the bed playing the game, and wrapped my arms around him and set my chin on his shoulder and stood there for a while. Not long, not half as long as I would have wanted, but long enough to warm me clear through. I barely escaped kissing his neck. There were so many times I felt sparks from him too. Not lustful, exactly, but warm and tender and full of the sort of trust and caring that is a good backrub, or a brush of the hand against the cheek.
I don't know if he's feeling it too. My intuition tells me that yes, he is, he has to be, but I always doubt.
I straightened his hair for him. The process of changing the tire had blown his hair all over, and he was joking about that. There was one lock that was still flipped up, and I reached over and fixed that for him.
In Drama class, the teacher told us that head-touching was a sign of intimacy; if you want to illustrate the closeness between, say, mother and daughter on stage, you have the mom fix the daughter's hair. Darkside brushes my hair out of my face when I'm hiding. I can fix his hair. This is good.
I treasure the bond we have. I love him.
Mute: incapable of speech.
Moot: not up for argument.
So, unless the event you're talking about as being a mute point is notably incapable of speech, you're using the wrong word.
His latest interests are football and fire safety. Football is the new one, following hard on the heels of basketball. Wish the apartment complex had some good run-around-and-play space besides the walkway between the buildings. Wish they had a hoop.
I showed him where the nearest fire extinguisher to our apartment is, and taught him how to feel the door handle if there's a fire to see if it's hot.
Chess is still a big interest of his, but after a few moves the game degenerates into the pieces talking to each other. Not that this is a bad thing, just frustrating for trying to teach him the rules. He's getting more of them, though, and has the board setup down exactly. He corrected Marx on which piece was the queen the other day: bishops do look a fair bit like queens with Wizard Chess, and t'other way 'round too.
The current solution for outbursts of temper is to count instead of getting mad. That's been working at school. The teacher was impressed and pleased. Yay Little Fayoumis!
I was waiting at the bus station for the 90. A bus came up, picked up people, and left. As soon as it left, there was a great flapping of wings, and all the pigeons landed in a semicircle around me, and looked at me.
It felt like I was part of the scenery, and not a person. I was sitting very still, and after landing in front of me, the birds dispersed, not noticing me at all.
Talked with Darkside. He has the silliest ways of answering the phone. "Hello, you've reached the flat tire hotline. If you have a flat tire, press one. If your friend has a flat tire, start cursing." I laughed. We talked. Little Fayoumis and Wizard Chess, cats, job search, doors....
Fluff. He was working on the computer, still with the job search.
He doesn't seem used to the idea of a friend who doesn't give up on him after he moves. Just... staying in touch. Keeping the bond.
Today is evidently Thursday, as the carpets are getting scrubbed.
Am so not complaining.
Our door and our mailbox will be re-keyed.
I discover nifty tricks with <lj-cut>!
Narcissa called. There's this guy named Odin. "We plead the fifth together."
Narcissa to college boys: "You should get naked and dance for me."
College boys to Narcissa: "You should get naked and dance!"
Narcissa: "But I'm more valuable."
"People shouldn't get depressed, because they're boring." --Narcissa on high school angst!boys
She talked about coffee, punk bands, friends who do grafitti, the unadvisability of hassling smokers, the joys of single life, hitting on girls, and that sort of thing. She has developed a thing for Asian women. *giggle* Not surprising, around River. There was much giggling and overuse of the word "like".
Of us, she's the more extreme. I'm calmer, more laid-back. She's more hyper than me on manic when she's in her calm phase. She's fun. She wished me the best of luck with you-know-who [the female one], and suggested that all our troubles could be solved with a trip to Oregon to see her band play, followed by sex.
I see words spelled when I say them.