Song: “Bandages” Hot Hot Heat
Mood: Lugubrious :(
When is the moment you can know with complete certainty that someone will forever let you down? When can you quiet the murmur of indecision that allows you to cling remora-like to the twisting and turning minecart of heartbreak? I wish these things were spelled out. Life is too littered with indistinct notes and half-formed promises.
If this point exists, it must have been crossed with Samantha. Since she spurned me to start dating Mathias, she’s told me to “fuck off,” “buzz off,” “eat shit,” “get stuffed,” “hug C4,” “contract AIDS,” “die soon,” “kick rocks,” “rob butts,” “stab self,” “try men,” and “taunt cops.” Still, I can’t shake the lingering feeling that affection lies beyond those words. She must feel some obligation to put up a front of belligerence to appease her current fling. Once gone, I’m bound to get a better reception.
When I think of McNabb, it evokes the same reasoning. Yeah, he’s hurt again. He’s hurting us again. To a person of reason, the locus of dependability for McNasty is stretching further into rear distance. Those people don’t understand the intoxicating allure of expectation, a destiny that yearns to fulfill itself.
Someday Samantha and I shall know true happiness, united in experiencing an Eagles Super Bowl that will be a rapturous yea-saying efflorescence of perfection. And the Kevin Kolbs and the Mathiases of the world will be forced to accept their roles as temporary impediments to a love that can’t understand.
At least that’s what I wrote in red marker on her pillow case.