Sinister: god is a place you will wait for the rest of your life

Blake hamibe02 at xxx.edu
Sun Jul 16 02:54:18 BST 2000


listen:  somewhere i've read that the only reason we ask for advice is to
attempt to disobey the truth we know to exist with perhaps brief and
temporary supplemental drivel.  perhaps not in those words exactly, but in
the same ball park.  there's nothing like ballparkin' a quote.

listen:  so what i need is advice.  and it's a bit of a dilemma.  it's
something i realize to be not only far-fetched and totally hilariously
stupid (but stupid in a newly stupid way, very refreshing.  the type of
stupid that slaps you twice, back and forth, in the face, and then you feel
your eyes swimming in your skull, as if for the first time).  this advice
pertains to a situation that could very well be its own b&s song.
unfortunately, it's not, and instead, it's a window in my albeit short yet
terribly emotionally vulnerable life.

listen:  so i work in a bookstore.  a barnes and noble to be exact.  and let
me first say how embarassed i am of my previous post and the girl i fell in
love with.  if i only realized that things like those happen way too often
than i can fully contemplate and register.  anyways, i work in a bookstore.
and i was at the information station, which for those of you who've never
entered such a terrible corporate establishment such as this, it's a desk in
the middle of the store that directs people to books.  sometimes i wish the
books would just walk away.  anyways.  ok so this girl came up.  and she was
beautiful.  yes.  very much so.  can anyone describe that feeling?  it's a
weird thing...it's like a numbness.  anyways, i'm being way too long with
this.  so she asked for the high school reading lists for the area (yes, she
is in high school, but then again, i'm still a teenager too) and i helped
for 15 minutes or so.  talking to her.  recommending books (invisible man
was one....hmm), and flashing my finally brace-less smile.  anyways.  i was
flirting my pants off.  not literally.  yet.  but we never really got into a
my-dad-is-dying-we're-going-to-just-bury-him-tomorrow discussion in terms of
personal closeness.  so i let her take the list with her, into the fiction
section, while i helped other customers.  five minutes pass.  i return to my
desk.  and i see the notebook.  and i being, the stupid terrible romantic
IDIOT that i am, look through it.  and what do i find?  i find a name and
number.  ahhh!!!

listen:  here's the question--did she leave it for me?  did she write it?
is it her number?!  or am i hallucinating?  the exact details were:  a full
name (first AND last name) with a number, local.  AND a cell phone number.
how do i know?  there's a number, and then it says: cell.

listen:  1% of me thinks she left the number hoping i'd call.  99% of me
thinks i'm very stupid and gullible for even thinking about this, at all.
now this is very very well travelled notebook.  it's seen a thousand hands
and been dropped everywhere, and been left in every crevice mentionable.  i
just don't know.  my female friend told me that if she did in fact leave
this number, she'd never show her face in the store again, because she'd
take my not calling as a sign of rejection.  argh!

and no, the number is not listed in the phonebook.  unlisted...hmm.
so i could call.  but what would i say?  i could ask for ____ and if a grown
woman answers, i could just hang up.  i need advice.  someone fill my mind
with sane thoughts.  because i know, and you obviously know, if you've read
for this long, that sane thoughts are far, far away.

until the next girl breaks my heart,
the nerdy shy eyed pacifist
blake

broken hearts anonymous
http://members.tripod.com/nucleartrout

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