Its raining and I feel like singing.
Its Friday, and so far I've shared the company of three women under three umbrellas. I wouldn't say this is a great feat, but it beats walking with my own umbrella by my lonesome. On rainy days I don't like to stay indooors. The columns of rain droplets peeing on the land always makes me want to walk around and look at puddles, wet dogs and soggy pieces of newspaper. As I write this, I am sadly not in the rain.
I'm in a computer lab sitting across from a guy who I think had a brief hookup with a girl I once dated. I find this interesting, simply because he probably has no idea if I hooked up with the girl he once hooked up with (though he did give me a lingering eye). Nonetheless, it is raining outside.
Lately my impetus to write has been mixed between my impetus to go out and socially interact. (yes, I said "impetus" twice in one sentence...I should be put on the Writers' Guild guillotine ASAP).
My last outing was over the weekend, the amazing Homecoming weekend. I'm calling it amazing because this particular weekend was great, because I spent it in the company of five people. Myself, my cousin, his friend, my other friend and my alter-ego, who I have dubbed "Vinton."
My alter-ego is that side of me that wears his hair mangly and half braided, who sneers at women and cheers guys on the more they look at women's asses. Vinton is the kind of guy you wouldn't invite to choir practice, a job fair at school, or a wet t-shirt contest.
Luckily Vinton doesn't appear as my alter ego through any phsyical changes within me. He is merely a voice, that gives credence to his existence. Say for example, myself and my cousin and his friend are walking down the road.
"Yes," my cousin says about a girl named Alice. "Alice is a good girl."
After a brief pause, Vinton would say in a hushed and scraggly voice.
"Good gyal? You mean she can get some good wuk."
(do I have to explain what "wuk" means?" )
Vinton's occassional appearance is good for a quick laugh or a skewed observation on a hot issue. All in all the weekend was pretty interesting. At homecoming events clubs hustle. I don't like knowing that last week I paid 5 bucks to get into a club that sold 3 dollar rails, and homecoming weekend it costs 25 (before 10 p.m) and drinks cost 8 dollars each. Things like that make me want to slap a bouncer in the face ... but I like my teeth.
There were moments I enjoyed during the weekend--dancing in the middle of a group while I was cheered on for my dancing among my favourite--but it was the company I enjoyed the most. Sometimes a guy needs to be a guy around other guys, for that explicit purpose. (I'm sure Vinton would say:" Guy? You need man in you life? " )
That was a guy's weekend. I didn't even make any attempts to meet new women or do the usual drinkup to the point of floating on air. I just had fun.
Today was diferent. Its raining in DC, and I feel like its a sunny day.
I'm bored and I decide to head to Filene's Basement to get some new jeans. I have lunch with a cute lacrosse player and we hop on the shuttle. She is going shopping for shoes.
After a thrilling conversation and a short metro ride later, I found myself at Border's near Farragut North. It was raining so hard outside of the metro station, only the large white letters of "Borders" was visible through the deluge. I didn't even remember what direction Filene's was in. My new pair of jeans would have to wait for another day to be tried on and purchased. I hobble through the rain, making sure to look expectantly at any cute women walking with large umbrellas, but I find no saviour on this Friday. I'm glad the walk is only one block. I walk through the store, wincing a little bit inside because this store has a potent memory in it for me. My ex-girlfriend and I argued inside and outside of the store for almost an entire hour about whether or not Alligators had tongues. As it stands, they do NOT have tongues... but that is a moot point. (I think crocs have tongues, or vice versa...you get the idea ).
I'm in the sexuality section and I grin to myself because a book about "Race, Image and Citzenship" is between the "Licoln Boys Club" (gay erotica ) and "Omnivore's World" (general health).I like seeing people read 35 dollar books for free. Everyone is quiet and soaking up their free literature. I almost step on two girls drinking coffee in the Self-help aisle. I'm slightly tempted to speak to one of them, a cute brunette wearing a horrible-looking red jersey, but they leave twenty seconds after I pass them. Border's isn't that cold, but I'm freezing because I walked into the place soaked. I head into the Border's cafe and sit and write a few stanzas for a song I made up while walking. (Therefore, I DID sing in the rain). After I peruse the formidable selection of mindless literature they have, I head outside and stare at the falling rain. It is captivating and hypnotic, being shrouded in the claustrophobic atmosphere of a city, slowly being drenched with fat droplets falling from the sky. I am one of the only persons without an umbrella on the street side, looking like a bull in a big... freaking china shop. After a while, I give in and walk towards the metro station as it pours, feeling the droplets hit my head, skitter through my hair and travel down the slope of my nose. Its wet and it feels good.
Potent memories of ex's and arguments about bogus topics aside, its good to be alive. Its good to be aware of the rain hitting my face, and feeling my body shudder occassionally. I'm thrilled by the prospect of reading, engaging and interacting. The gray sky no longer looks portentious and intimidating. The sky, like the buildings and people around me, is merely an extension of my reality. I can choose how I perceive it, among many other things.
I shudder once more, and wonder to myself if I should get an umbrella. I would certainly keep my head under something protective. "Nah..." Vinton starts to say, "What you mean unda? Bad man don't go "unda" anything...just pon top a gyal!"
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