today on the bus home from school i took my seat as usual and started to put on my embarrassingly enormous headphones. they are beige, weigh about nine pounds and make me look like i'm in one of those copout music videos where it's all like "yo this is what it looked like when we recorded this song in the studio, isn't it so fresh?' think Boys II Men post (Motownphilly). actually, don't. forget about Boys II Men altogether.
so anyway, i'm putting on my headphones and cueing up the Strokes when i notice that sitting perpendicular to my seat but beside me nonetheless is a guy. not just any guy; a really, really good looking guy. he has short blond hair and he's wearing nice jeans and a close-fitting long-sleeved polo shirt. so he's not my type. but he's got a nice long aquiline nose, a strong chin and good hands. hands that are smallish but sturdy- compact. not the big florid callousy hands i detest or the long slender hands with shiny almong shaped nails i also don't appreciate aesthetically. good hands.
sadly, he's reading the Bible.
and i'm not talking flipping through it...he's on about page two thousand and the motherfucker is dog-eared.
so not only is this guy out of my league, it's also pretty apparent that no way is he 'playing for my team,' as they say. ask yourself: are sports metaphors really the most apt analogies in this situation? i believe more appropriate memes are in order.
so not only is this guy on another runway, it's pretty obvious he's rocking some 'ready-to-wear' anyway, as they say. okay, that metaphor sucked. but meanwhile, i have decided that despite the fact that this guy is lame and straight, small talk is appropriate. i wonder what he's doing reading the bible. good looking guys don't read the bible, they read George. everyone knows that! i begin.
"Good book?" i quip cleverly.
my plan to engage this young gentleman in some sassy repartee instantly derails. he slowly turns his head and proceeds to glare at me through two murderously narrowed eyes before wordlessly producing a bottle of cool mint listerine from an unseen bag. he slowly takes a long drag off the bottle, swallows (!) and replaces it in the bag. he then looks away from me, back to the bible, and continues reading.
I don't know what I want out of life but I have a bad feeling that it's going to be really expensive.
sometimes my heart says, Milan! but my brain responds with Chicago. my wallet inevitably corrects both. Ypsilanti, it might say. i think this might be a reccurring theme in my life.