Diary Entry #104

I spent yesterday visiting Steph.

The route to get there was new to me, so I was a little anxious, but it wound up not being so intimidating.

Though there's a significant walk at the end, it felt good to be in the sun a little. The skin on my collar is sensitive from it, and I suspect I have gotten a bit of color.

Steph is very talented. I watched her disassemble my laptop to poke around in it — she looked like a jeweler, with her many small screwdrivers, non-conductive presses, and leverage bars. Clicking minute pieces in and out while talking quietly to herself — it was fascinating.

As a child, I was never permitted to learn what she was doing — the risk of learning how to assemble and disassemble a computer was simply too much; the expenses were too high if I broke something — so seeing someone else very casually demonstrate this requisite knowledge was very cool.

We shared a dinner of mapo tofu and cumin lamb, and hoofed around the grocery store a little and before I knew it, I was on the bus home while the sky turned orange and dark.

During a portion of our hanging out, we used my laptop to test if some spare RAM cards were bad — and while everything re-initialized, we ate figs and talked about our friends.

I talked at length about Becky.

About her cinemaphilia, and her mysterious, fascinating museum of a home. About her always picking me up from the bus-stop, and walking me back to it. About folding clothes with her, as she played Animal Collective for me, and we passed a cup of ice and cheap booze back and forth.

The bus ride home was filled with the weary happiness that I had made a new friend. But more than that, it was filled with gratitude for the friends I have, too.

When I got home, I told Becky how grateful I am to know her, and that I am thankful for these memories of combing through the record store and drinking cold black coffee with her.

I said, "When people tell me, 'Kiss your friends,' I think 'I wish I could do so without being disrespectful or complicating Becky's life " — she laughed it off and said not to worry about it, and that kisses aren't really things she does with folks anyways.

But she does play Animal Collective for you, and invite you into her museum, no admission. She lets you know that you are worthy of time and care.

And what's that, if not being loved?

Movie night has fallen through, and though I'm a little disappointed, I can't help but think, "I could visit Becky, and be surrounded by warmth. I bet she even has a good Cronenberg movie we could watch."

It feels like it has been awhile since I have drawn. I gotta draw at some point.