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home again home again

I'm home.

I'm not tired, because I slept on the plane, and I've got an extra three hours, anyway. My ears haven't popped back yet. I have a cold, so I can't breathe, and my head hurts a little. I have to go to work tomorrow, work! I don't even remember what I was doing before I left. There's no one home but me, and the cat. And the worst part is, it almost feels sometimes like I never left.

But I did leave! I went to Seattle! They have mountains there, apparently! We don't have those around here. I stayed with counterfeitfake and he drove me whereever I wanted, which was nice of him, and I had veto power over the radio, which I didn't really have to use. I met Elvis Costello and shook his hand, and climbed up a mountain ("THE mountain", apparently), and got very drunk, and watched people get very drunk, and made lasagna and lots of other stuff I can't remember. Oh, I saw a football game, that was one of the awesomest things.

More lator. I was getting a little homesick, I'm glad to be home, don't get me wrong. It's just . . . vacation is over. I wish every day were a vacation. The world's so big, I'm worried I won't get a chance to see it all, before I die.

Comments

( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
counterfeitfake
Sep. 25th, 2002 12:07 am (UTC)
a few more things
Ascended the Space Needle, traversed Pike Place Market, botched pool games, sipped Jim Beam and Pepsi, shot tequila, listened to a passionate diatribe on Al Pacino, monitored model airplanes, cruised through Microsoft campus, porked out on a pig omelette, sipped MORE Jim Beam and Pepsi, delivered a pair of mix CDs... that's all I can think of, but I'm sure there's something else.


My dad has always maintained a calendar, on which he writes a summary of any eventful day's activities, especially during vacation. I always made fun of him when I was younger, but I think I can now see the use of this. There are countless things about this weekend that I wish I would remember but I will probably forget.
quent
Sep. 25th, 2002 10:48 am (UTC)
Re: a few more things
passionate diatribe? not even close. you haven't even head me recite my "peace with inches" speech. It goes a little something like this:

"I don't know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives, all comes down to today. And either we heal as a team, or we're gonna crumble, inch by inch, play by play, till we're finished. We're in hell right now, gentlemen. AND we can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us OR we can fight our way back, into the light. We can climb outta hell. Now I can't do it for ya. I'm too old. (I'm too tired, I'm too fucking blind <----i like putting that in.). I look around and see these young faces and I think, I mean... I made every wrong choice a middle aged man could make. I uh... pissed away all my money (believe it or not), i chased off anyone whos ever loved me, and lately, I can't even stand the face I see, in the mirror. You know, when you get old in life, things get taken from you, i mean, thats... thats a part of life, but you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out life's this game of inches. So is football, because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small, i mean, one half a second too fast or too slow, you don't quite make it, one half a step too late or too early, you don't quite catch it, the inches we need are EVERYWHERE AROUND US. Every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch, on this team we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to PIECES for that inch. WE CLAW WITH OUR FINGERNAILS FOR THAT INCH. BECAUSE WE KNOW, when we add up all those inches, THATS GONNA MAKE THE FUCKIN' DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WINNIN' AND LOSIN'! BETWEEN LIVIN' AND DYIN'! I'll tell you this in any fight, its the guy whos willing to die, whos gonna win that inch. And I know, I'f I'm gonna have any life anymore, its because I'm still WILLIN' to fight and die for that inch. BECAUSE THATS WHAT LIVIN' IS! THE SIX INCHES, IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE! NOW I CAN'T MAKE YOU DO IT. YOU GOTTA LOOK AT THE GUY NEXT TO YOU, LOOK INTO HIS EYES. NOW I THINK YOU'RE GONNA SEE A GUY, WHO WILL GO THAT INCH WITH YOU. YOU'RE GONNA SEE A GUY WHO WILL SACRIFICE HIMSELF FOR THE TEAM BECAUSE HE KNOWS WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO IT YOURE GONNA DO THE SAME FOR HIM, THATS A TEAM GENLEMAN AND EITHER WE HEAL NOW AS A TEAM OR "
quent
Sep. 25th, 2002 10:57 am (UTC)
Re: a few more things
man i got so crazy with the speech and the caps lock that I accidentally hit TAB and Space and submitted it partially with spelling errors and bad punctuation and all.

the rest is:

"or we will die as individuals. that's football, guys. thats all it is. NOW WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO?" *loud commotion of football players, and quent drops to his knees.*
quent
Sep. 25th, 2002 11:00 am (UTC)
Re: a few more things
looking back at both those posts, it becomes bleedingly apparent that not having a hangover definitely wasn't worth it.

head = heard
gentleman = gentlemen
this = last comment.
counterfeitfake
Sep. 25th, 2002 01:35 pm (UTC)
Re: a few more things
you haven't even head me recite my "peace with inches" speech

HAVE TOO.
counterfeitfake
Sep. 25th, 2002 01:35 pm (UTC)
Re: a few more things
you haven't even head me recite my "peace with inches" speech

Have too.
quent
Sep. 25th, 2002 01:57 pm (UTC)
No.
You've heard the frisbee version.
littlewashu
Sep. 25th, 2002 02:04 pm (UTC)
Re: a few more things
GEE FJELLANGER THANKS FOR TELLING ALL MY STORIES FOR ME.
slickninja
Sep. 25th, 2002 07:55 am (UTC)
Which Mountain?! Rainier? I YAM JEALOUS.
counterfeitfake
Sep. 25th, 2002 01:36 pm (UTC)
Rainier, dude! It's pretty great.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )

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