things I have done with andrew

I fucked my back up lifting weights. how lame is that? lift with your knees, dipshit, you’ve been through this before!
anyway, it makes sitting for more than five minutes really uncomfortable, which is a problem when you have a desk jockey job like mine. so I just took a painkiller five minutes ago, and I got about five minutes before it kicks in full force and knocks my ass out cold. I took one today before work, which was necessary but turned me into a numbed zombie. I took a couple of naps on the couch in the photography room. and like earlier, I will sleep one of those heavy, dreamless sleeps tonight. the kind where your mouth lies open and you drool.

so. once, during college, while I was home in Valparaiso for a week or so during summer break, Andrew and I went to Mount Baldy … to fuck around. because that’s what you do at Mount Baldy, you fuck around. you bring a frisbee and wear flip-flops that you’re bound to lose, and you climb to the top of that giant-ass sand dune in Laporte County, and at the top you can see the Chicago skyline to your left, that looks like a hazy miniature set, and to the right is the impending water cooling tower at the power plant in Michigan City, and in front of you is Lake Michigan. and a couple hundred miles over this water due north is the upper peninsula of Michigan. it’s a really big lake, Lake Michigan is. some might even call it Great.
so Andrew and I climbed to the top of this thing, and then purposefully leapt back down its steep side in giant, gravity-powered bounds. if you trip, it is fine; there is nothing but sand to break your fall.
and then we threw a frisbee around; intentionally throwing it over the precipice every once in a while to send the other scrambling.
and then we went swimming, in the questionable Lake Michigan water, with our clothes on. because it was summer, and clothes will always dry.
it was a Sunday evening, probably late July or early August, and it was growing late. Andrew wanted to stay, but I wanted to leave, because I wanted to drive back down to school that night because I was chasing some dumb ass that summer — which, by association and logic, makes me dumb as well — and I wanted to get back to that game. 
“you can always go back tomorrow. just go back tomorrow,” was Andrew’s argument, I believe, and I kind of listened to it, but eventually I kept acting like an asshole and he acquiesced, and we left. and I went back down to Bloomington that evening, and got in around 11 pm.
I don’t even remember what happend that evening after I returned, which means it wasn’t memorable. but I do remember the day on Mount Baldy, and I have always remembered it. because I know now that I should have stayed. because you’re only young and free of responsibility on top of Mount Baldy in the cool summer dusk once or twice, and you got to hold on to those moments. 
you were right, Andrew. it’s the little things, man.


7 comments so far

  1. mowgli on

    this story makes you and andrew sound very. very. gay.

  2. Anonymous on

    You’re very. very. gay!

  3. Smith on

    you’re both gay. you should date.

  4. dudeokay on

    you all love that gayness.

  5. Anonymous on

    Smith youre an asshole

  6. Smith on

    no shit

Comments are closed.