Tuesday, May 06, 2003


Cyclops, Iceman, Angel, Beast, Marvel Girl, Havok, Polaris, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Banshee, Storm, Sunfire, Colossus, Thunderbird, Rogue, Dazzler, Gambit, Jubilee, Cannonball, Thunderbird, Shadowcat, Psylocke...

I wont tell you about what a badass Hugh Jackman is as Wolverine, I'll tell you instead about how fucking cool my mutants friends are, and how lucky I am to have them in Kevynn Malone’s School For Gifted Youngsters. I appreciate their presence. They’re all fucking insane, but in a very special way. I’m a lucky guy, and you’ll never, ever hear me complain about them.

A random day can turn into a party. I called J-of-the-freckles. She was having drinks with M, C, and A. They called me back later to tell me that we were going to watch the Laker game at my house. They don’t like basketball. This doesn’t matter. I’ve slept with three out of four of them, and we’re still friends. That’s amazing in itself, don’t you think? And they don't hate me? I don't hate them for giving me THE CLAP? AND THE HIV? AND THE SARS? I don’t know if that’s really appropriate to say, but this is my writing, and my life, and it’s true, and sometimes when you have, cool-as-hell-friends, and you’ve known them for a million years – shit happens – and the fact that they can still remain your friends and you can even appreciate them more makes it even better. It’s like Hollywood…everybody has slept with their co-stars. I’ve known them forever, so – shaddup. They’re all made of good, unique stuff.

A knocks on the door, like a fucking cop and scares the shit out of me while I’m typing. We have a smoke on the front porch. A has a total of eighteen beers and a hat that says “ Hang Loose!”. C comes. J-of-the-freckles arrives. M arrives. Amy and Tom arrive. Joe arrives. John arrives. Al arrives. We spend more time laughing and being crass, hilarious bastards than anything else.

My sister called to talk about when I was going to visit her in Austin. I was distracted. There was too much stuff going on. I was talking on the phone, and I remember looking around my house as everybody was doing their own thing. C was steaming artichokes in the kitchen; A was eating Taco Bell nearby. Joe was on the computer. John was watching the game; Amy and Tom were talking to Al at his place next door. On and on. People laughing, doing what they want, feeling at complete ease with each other, one friend always calling someone else. Sometimes I can get in trouble in these situations because you never know what the hell is going to happen, or how many people are ever going to show up, but that’s also a beautiful aspect of my life. My friends fucking kick ass and are plentiful, and they're all made of good, unique stuff.

I like the familiar interaction. The cleverness. How they can all feel comfortable and at home at any of our houses. How that, when it comes to humor, all is far game. I like the fact that we spend the majority of our time laughing in unison. I like the fact that my girlfriend is now friends with them all. I like the fact that she has private conversations with them that I’m not included in. I like that they like her and she’s developing special relationships with them. I like when they make plans that I’m not even aware of.

I wish that I had more time to explain all of the funny stuff that I found special tonight, but this is too long already. I wish that I could write you stories about all of my friends. It’s the stuff of notebooks, not of Bloggy-ness. They’re a great source of material for screenplays. Like always, I wish that I could tell you more, but, sometimes, I don’t have the patience. Ask me and I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you should really come over and hang out with us, cuz’ I think that we’re all really pretty fucking funny.

And we're all hot pieces of ass to boot.
















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