Shouting the Poetic Truths of High School Journal Keepers

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

January 5, 1995

So I'm here at the Best Western, right? (EJ Br0nkema-type intro1) You know, it's the Illinois High School Theatre Festival and here we are, us six guys (me, Chris, Dan W0lfe, Peter, Mark B3irn & Adam Gri3ve) with this whole roommates deal. We're like living together, on our own, in a condo (complete kitchen set! two stories!), but you know, it's very fashionable these days to act like you're gay, to make fun of it, which, needless to say, fucking pisses me off. What the hell am I supposed to act like when Dan has Chris thrown onto the bed, engaging in full-clothed mock sexual activity, asking him to "squeal"2 -- everyone having a good chuckle, of course3 ... But let me see -- apparently, Mark asked Stacie "what the deal was" between me & Chris because I was becoming perturbed or something -- I didn't realize it was that obvious. But Jesus ... I'm getting disappointed as it becomes apparent that Chris & I can't sleep in the same bed (not that anything would happen) -- and when they do all that shit to him, it just riles up the emotions. Oh, I'm having a good time here, I suppose. When you discount everything I've said. But as I've said, the rest doesn't influence me. Although it's been nice. Things are generally good. What the hell am I saying? It's 12:44 AM. I was all talking to Stacie on the phone. Fuck -- Diane almost caught Chris & I in the girls' penthouse. We were running, you know? That would have been nice to just be in there. Hey, well everything's relatively sane now. Peter's reading, Chris is watching TV, Adam's playing solitaire, Dan & Mark are working on a monologue. Kinda quiet. I don't know why Adam is trying to stay up all night; he seems quiet. I mean, compared to how he's so dramatic-phony lots of times. Chris has absolutely no affectations. We're like this big family -- the 6 of us -- it's like a house here. It's 12:53.
--JMC (do I really have to say?)

1 Ms. Br0nkema had a habit of starting stories with this sort of locution: "So I'm talking to Younce, right?"

2 An homage to Deliverance, obviously.

3 As someone who considered himself bisexual in high school (as I suppose you've guessed by now), I was acutely sensitive to gay-bashing. ("Oh haha, male rape, very funny! (Fuck you.)") Little did I realize that two of my five chuckling housemates that night were gay themselves and would come out after high school.


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