Dear Friend

November 5, 2008

Dear friend,
My expectations, or rather my lack of expectations, have saved me once again. Yesterday was my birthday, and it can be considered nothing more than lack-luster. Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting a gift.
I am really quite over everything at the moment, shockingly. The best part of my special day was checking my Facebook updates and watching for Anderson Cooper on CNN as our new President elect was announced. Is it wrong to be in love with someone from afar? Not breathing heavy behind them or anything, but simply to stay up until one thirty every morning and know that they will one day be happier with you in their life. I think you have, that pearled brunette warming your icy heart and making you a little more tolerable.
When do birthdays stop counting? Or when should we just stop caring that they suck? I am not surprised that I had nothing to look forward to, being 33 and clearly past my prime in many senses. I did not look forward to yesterday, for I had no plans, and the plans I did have for later in the week I am probably going to postpone for a month or two. Have you ever had a friend who was so damaged, so blatantly fucked up that you found yourself lowering your standards in an attempt to continue to stay close to them? I am feeling that now with one of my closest and most personal, and I find it a little disappointing. The drunk mess throws her life away and I have to postpone my excitement. Morton’s, Del Frisco’s, Oceanaire, Sullivan’s, Samba Room. No, her drunk ass on some couch with me unwilling to deal with it anymore. Unacceptable.
Walking through the leaves between the high trees of gold once again, new music graced my ears. These days, I am over everything and everyone. It is all so tired. Thinking back to the days when I would tell myself that if I ever got below a C on a report card I would be forced to slit my wrists, manic depression rolled off of my tongue. But hell, I thought, what do have to be sad about? I have a romantic interest with an amazing smile and a condo in Breckinridge, a 4.0 in my classes with no real worries about it falling any lower, and enough money hidden away in various places to make my parents yell out in questioning jealousy. And I don’t care about one bit of it. A glint of emotion finds its way inside, and then it get stabbed to death gruesomely in a matter that is unbecoming of a classy individual.
And yet a smile still gets spread across my face. I don’t know about you, but I am astonishing at creating playlists. A few of my real gifts of god include The Hotness, The Sexiness, Buji Mix Volumes I-III, Prom, Aspen, Low, and Smooth. Since I am not afraid of god, I have to consider him an equal, don’t I? The current grip of songs that makes everything a little better goes as follows:

Any Other World by MIKA
Human by The Killers
Nara by ES Posthumus
Running Up That Hill by Placebo
Right Now by Akon
San Francisco Dreaming by Benny Benassi & Global DJs
Now You’re Gone by Basshunter
Viva la Vida by Coldplay
Campione 2000 by E-Type
Boom Box by Hypercrush
Disturbia by Rihanna
Womanizer by Britney Spears
Late Night (Unstoppable Mix) by Three 6 Mafia
Shuv It (Disco D Blend) by Santogold
You’ll Find a Way by Santogold
Get It Up (Radioclit Mix) by Santogold ft. M.I.A.
Bamboo Banga by M.I.A.
Dancefloor by Stylophonic
Run – Hide by Trouble Andrew
Piece of Me by Britney Spears
Wolf Like Me by TV on the Radio
Blonde On Blonde by Nada Surf
Any Other World by MIKA

Transition Identifying is the name. From sadness and growth, to jollity and excitement and dancing, to sadness once again. Any Other World really just fits right now. Everything is dying and there is nothing to look forward to, but trumpets blast every time hope sneaks into my Guantanamo of a heart. It has begun that way, and will end that way, and then things will be back to its typical selfish bliss. I hope it’s the kind of thing you listen to when your father ignores your call, or you feel guilty about killing your mother, or wish you were less incredible. It is so lonely at the top.
Another thing that I have noticed is my relationship with my family. It is changing. From my concerted attempt to make as little of an impression, to an eased awkwardness. A noticeable improvement, I’d say. And I do not even know how it happened. Things just seem to change on me without my knowing. It was certainly eventual though, for I doubt it was teenage angst. My mother is just like me, but older and a woman. My sister has my wit, with a timid approach that I am sure she will shed soon. Miss J is nothing like me, but at times she hopes for more just like me. Miss L is nothing like me, but we are both tired of the ridiculous antics of Miss J. And my father just wants to find a way to regain some type of control. I just don’t know anymore. It is so lonely at the top.

Kiss-Kiss,
Dante