Sunday, Jun. 12, 2005
12:10 p.m.
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"Some guy tried to tell me that the North Star was a planet. It's not a planet, is it?"
"I don't think so," I say. "It's called Polaris."
The city glows against the backdrop, and the sky fades from orange to purple to black. She grips my hand a little tighter, and we are bonded, unified against the night, against society, against what all of this stands for, but we're admiring it anyway.
"From up here, everything is just so insignificant." She lets go of my hand and begins to point. "You can't say, 'There's that guy that made fun of me,' or, 'There's that girl I hate' because it's all just so far away. They aren't even lights. They're just part of the black because they're all asleep."
The rows of streetlights fade into eachother, and there's a big dark spot where the bay is, outlined by more lights faint from the distance.
We pile back into the car and drive to another spot, closer to society but unmarred by trees or buildings in the way. We climb up a dirt hill, climb over sorority and fraternity insignias, and one of us bruises herself. We stand at the top of the hill for a little while, shivering, and we don't hold hands this time. Now we are divided, three pillars. Three wheels. A third wheel.
We run down the hill, and at the bottom we skip and twirl and pick flowers. We scream and shout; we are in party mode. We are in little girl mode. We are in dance around at fucking three in the morning like clich�d teenagers mode.
"Where to next?" I ask.
"I've always wanted to go to a cemetary," she says, so that's where we go. We turn up the radio so loud that the car pulses and listen to underground rap on the local alternative radio station.
We pour out of the car when we arrive at the cemetary, conveniently located next to a Taco Bell, and I decide that capitalism is pretty much the greatest thing ever. A Taco Bell next to a cemetary.
It's three in the morning, and there are three of us walking around in a cemetary.
"This is so not scary," she says. We hang out for a little while longer, and as we turn to leave, a cat runs across and squeezes out under the gate.
"Aww! A kitty!"
"This is the part of the movie where dramatic music kicks in and we totally get our faces torn off."
We drive back to my friend's house and kick it there for a little while, then head back to my house.
As we're falling asleep, she says, "I hate spending time with him. Every time we hang out, I fall in love with him all over again."
She suggested all of it.