I wish Trolley was here so we could play Starcraft 2 like we did when we lived on Island Park. I’d set up my laptop in his room — he’d have a beer and I’d have a joint — and we’d spend hours against some computers in Warcraft 3. Or he’d surf the web and listen to music while I wrote in this blog, sharing the apartment with his kitty and mine.
Those were the summers of No Motiv and Coheed and Cambria. The winters of Bel Canto and The Dears. I remember being happy then.
I wish Aaron and Trolley were here so we could get really, really drunk, even though I don’t drink anymore. Only when I wake up in the middle of the night, and all the thoughts I’ve been pushing into the back of my head come clawing out, leaving me with a restless mind. I pour a glass of Bailey’s on the rocks and practice scales until the alcohol makes me fall asleep again.
One time, we went to the Honest Lawyer to celebrate Aaron’s birthday. In our drunken haze, we thought it’d be a good idea to order some pizza when we got back to my apartment (there was a pizzeria right outside the side door). Aaron hurled in the garden rocks as we were waiting for the order. We brought him in, and gave him a pillow and towel cause he wanted to sleep in the bathroom. He told me later, “I only get that drunk when I’m really depressed”. Sounds good to me.
I wish my friends were here so we could drink like the old days, when we were between school and work, and women.
Found this old video of back when I lived on Island Park in a 16th floor apartment, with Trolley and another person who shall remain unnamed.
Trolley looks so young! It’s not his face, just his hair that does it. And remember when I couldn’t stop listening to that AFI album? Seems like so long ago. I guess you’d only remember if you’ve been reading since 2004/2005, when we did stuff like this.
I wonder if I’m still too young to feel nostalgic. It seems like the only people who reminisce are those who are much older than me, but I already get nostalgic about my university days, when things were relaxed, I could sleep in, or skip class, and I didn’t have a mortgage to worry about.
Last minute Halloween party means last minute costume.
I’m walking down the consolidated aisles of Walmart at 7:30 on Saturday night. The costume packages are all 50% off, and the models on the labels are all pre-teen. I don’t think I’ll fit in the tights of this Batman costume, and this vampire cape only goes down to my waist.
I’m suddenly struck with a fit of nostalgia. Remember that time when I was at that party with Becky, who was wearing a witches mask, trying to engage her in a conversation after we met at the Honest Lawyer1? Remember when we went as Supertroopers to the party at the girls house? Remember when I got drunk off that bottle of Earnest and Julio Gallo?
I hurriedly grab a black cowl and bloody knife, and walk to the checkout line. With my full-length leather trench coat, I’m hoping it’s enough to gain acceptance to the party, but not too much to stand out.
As I leave, I wonder if Halloween still exists for those of us past our trick-or-treating days.
So the plan is to get there early. That way I don’t have everyone looking at me when I walk in the door. Bail when it gets too loud, or the people too drunk. But everyone invited through Facebook was told eight while I was told nine, and I’m almost last one there.
Not only the day that Trolley got hitched, but a chance to see Adam and Tomasini and Eric and Nick and Alison; the people I only get to hang out with when camping or partying at the farm. I missed Adam and his ever ebullient attitude most of all, something that never fails to buoy the spirits. Even though we didn’t get a chance to talk much through all the preparation, it was enough to hear his voice and laughter.
It was back to Stanley’s Maple Farm1 for the outdoor wedding. The rain continued up to half an hour before the ceremony then stopped completely, as if god himself had a hand in ordainment.
You just need to look at the smile on Trolley’s face to understand how happy he is.
The reception was open bar, with prime rib and a dessert buffet at the end. I had been waiting over a year to have the prime rib dinner, as I was going through an undiagnosed case of IBS at Aaron’s wedding and was left eating bread. Even Pat, my gourmand friend, said that it was cooked to perfection, and found out that the venue has a deal with the farm up the road to get the best cuts of meat.
We surprised the newly wedded couple with the shoe game, where they answer a series of questions without knowing how the other one will answer. They surprised us with how many they answered in sync. A good sign for the newly wed.
Nick humourously noted that there weren’t many single girls around, but being able to hang out with Aaron in the MC booth made me feel much less awkward and abandoned than the last wedding I went to.
At one point, Trolley came up to me and asked me _____ __ _________ ____ _____. It was his wedding, but he was concerned about me. I couldn’t believe it even entered his mind with everything going on around him, and it was certainly the part I’ll remember most about that night.