You've created a sulk monster...
Rory says, you don't deserve to be miserable so you should do whatever you need to be happy. Just figure out what you want and do what you have to in order to get it. And I say, I don't want anything. My stubbornness ruined him. He quit trying and now he wants to move to New Zealand and work at HMV and not talk to any body for the rest of his life, just sit in his room and listen to music that makes him so happy he cries. I told him I'm crashing his sulk party...and he said he will pay to get me there.
Rory doesn't deserve a friend like me--I'm ruining him. I called him mid-week and asked for a huge favour: he showed up at the train station and asked me how it felt to be a quitter. Then we went and found Jean and brownies and I read the Coffee News outloud for the world to hear. And then we went to his house and I helped him make a collage and he hated my idea but pretended to love it. He inconspicuously refused to follow my plans...and got a kick ass mark.
We went to a concert on Thursday night. Shane came and picked me up in Burlington, but he had to sleep before work so I went to wandering the streets alone. At the bookstore beside the World's Biggest Bookstore, my mom's cell phone started ringing and Rory told me he'd decided to drop out of school for the rest of the day and come find me.
We lost eachother and ended up switching places. I watched the cops talk to the bum that got run over by a motorist, while Rory tried to score us some crack in Dundas Square. Some guy with a lot of winter coats tried to talk to me, and when I pretended I didn't speak English he pretended he understood what I was saying in Gibberish.
Rory and I finally got to have a drink together though, at the Horseshoe Tavern. Rory tells me that it's the kind of bar that if you sat down at the bar alone someone would ask you what your troubles are and listen better than your best friend. I decided it was the kind of bar where you keep your eyes on your drink at all times so you don't get date raped.
Friday was a sleeping bust. Shane came by around 10 and fell asleep with me again. My mom woke me up and told me that I should go get the car because Dad called to say it was ready. I got showered and watched something on tv for a bit and then found out it was a no go until 3 o'clock. So I went downstairs and passed out on the couch with a headache and my mom came and gave me blankets and juice and a pillow.
No one trusts me to drive a stick so I got to do the safety lap with my dad around Farmborough. Not much else to say in that respect. It was raining the whole way home but I lived.
Saturday I went to see Jean in Waterloo. We were supposed to go to the Maple Syrup festival and to Listowel to the yarn outlet but Dave's brakes are fucked and she had to watch them get fixed. Because, "I'll go get the propane torch" is something every person needs to remind them what it means to live.
Red Lobster for dinner. I'm sitting here being bitter that I left the leftovers on the counter at home. Maybe I'll go back and get them now that I can do that if I want to be poor.
I wrote 2000 words since I got back to London tonight. Quitting never looked more provocative. Rory told me he wants to marr a bunch of girls from bands and I went into shock because I couldn't believe his language. He meant marry and is now going to commit his week to being the absolute sweetheart. Maybe he's not as malleable as I once thought.
I need sleep, daylight savings or not...it's fucking late.
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