Republica
The secret is just a boring old number, but it's source is a leather couch in a coffee shop in Bethany, Oklahoma and a guess the number game i programmed on my TI-86 graphing calculator. I also made a little picture book with the final punch line being a drawing of my middle finger, and somehow the phrase "el pavo de Diablo" and white-chocolate mochas for me and shots of espresso for him figure into it. And terrible cult classic movies, and playing doom, quake, and freddy pharkas frontier pharmacist which took up too much ram in the end stages and he would have to rewrite the bios to not run services so we could keep playing. And that's like an impossibly miniscule fraction of the memories i have with my best friend.
You have to understand something about me. I have never heard anyone describe memory the way i experience it. It's not photographic or idetic or any of those other trendy words. The best analogy i can come up with is cinematographic. I can literally watch my memories with the part of my brain that processes vision in the same way people have described a musician's brain acting like they are physically hearing music. My joke has always been that i have no concept of time, because all of my experiences are just there in chronological order. I only have to pick a starting point. It could be seconds ago, or years. Obviously if a scene was boring i probably stopped paying attention and don't remember it, but there's only like 3 or 4 times in my life i've ever been officially "bored." One of them i left Sam's house and drove east on 23rd street just to see what was out there and ended up in Harrah, OK before turning around. So, not boring at all. I most definitely get overwhelmed, but never bored. Consequentially, i forget that long spans of time have passed since i saw or spoke to the people i love, and it makes me sad that i can't really fix that problem.
But enough about that, when i think about all that stuff, i also think about Republica. Did they disappear from the universe because they sucked or because we just didn't care about alternative electronic pop/rock? Let's find out.
Why yes, Saffron, i am weird. I'm also confused as to why we are on the rooftops, and what exactly the "it" is that we are supposedly having. Oh, you're ready to go now. Ok, where?
Hold your horses right there. What did i do? We were having a confusing romp on the rooftops and now you're ready to fight. You're the one who was ready to go. I'm driving in city traffic and you're mad that i'm concentrating instead of jabberjawing? And why are you mad that i have a job?
You called yourself that, i certainly didn't say it. Are you just mad 'cause i'm not rich?
Ok fine take a train to a random city and eat chinese food, then come back and complain that you didn't have a good time.
You want me to objectify you? Is that sarcasm? I am very confused.
Thanks for saying i'm pretty and that you forgive me. Oh, you meant your ex-boyfriend? No, me? No, him? I'm not even sure we ever dated, or that you broke up with me. What the hell are you talking about?
Yes, of course we are all trapped in our own lives. I know what you mean, but i think you could express it better without the backup singer.
Look, i still don't know what the hell is going on here so i feel very uncomfortable with your explicit sexual advances.
It's like i'm not even here. Hello, hello, am i in an M. Night Shyamalan movie?
Who the bloody hell is Holly!? Never mind i guess you're ready to go again.
Listen, it has certainly been an interesting evening and i'm not opposed to maybe trying it again sometime. Maybe i'm just not the kind of flashy or extroverted go-getter guy you're looking for right now. That's ok. I've got your number, you've got mine, one of us will call the other in a couple years to catch up.
What an awesome trip down memory lane that was. Thanks, Sam. Wish i were closer and could hang out with yuhs (that's my Garth Algar impression). G'night everybody.
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