Walking Home

I felt like walking home tonight, so I did. I'd say it's a good three miles from work to home.

I went to see Hearts In Atlantis last night with Albert and Simon. It was my first DLP movie. And no, I can't tell you what DLP stands for cause I forgot. I think it's Digital Lens Projection or something. Not important anyway. The movie was good. I liked it a lot. Simon says it's "beautiful". Maybe, but I think me and Albert didn't want to sound gay in front of other guys (he's still in the closet).

So what was beautiful about the movie? Well I'd say innocence and childhood. I think innocence is precious. I'm innocent:

I'm a virgin
hear me roar
you can't ever
call me "whore"

I am strong
I am invincible
I am Virgin!

My feet stink. My new Royal Elastics sneakers don't look that new anymore. I spend 15 hours a day in them.

On the walk home, I went in the food mart at the Shell station to grab me a drink. I chose Squirt. I haven't had Squirt since middle school. Now I remember how Squirt tastes like. It's a good soda.

I walked by the Marriot, where the Partners in Press Journalism Awards were held (I was the Editor of my high school newspaper), where Seychelle and Merhawitt wanted me to buy them alcohol, where Mrs. P worked part time as a bellhop (she was the one I saw crying and hugging Mr. Findlay one early morning in the back of the journalism room. I had the key.), I saw Francisco Velosco.

When I was in the second grade, when the world seemed sunnier and safer, I could walk home from school. I usually walked with Francisco Velosco.

Sometimes along the walk... actually every time we walked home, Francisco had to pee. We'd pass the Korean restaurant and I'd ask the waitress if Francisco could pee in the bathroom and then he would go and pee. Eventually, she got annoyed and said something like "If you'm not eat anything, you can use bathroom." I was smart to enough figure out she meant Francisco couldn't use the restroom anymore. If I wasn't that smart, the scary way she said it would of stopped me from asking her anyway. So now, Francisco had nowhere to pee. I remember him asking me if he could pee at my grandma's. I said no.

I saw Francisco before a couple years ago in the park. It was cold. It was the first time I'd been to the park by myself, when I didn't have to go. I was writing a 47 page letter to Marla. I never gave it to her. I still have it. Somewhere. Maybe I can sell it on eBay.

I wrote about Francisco. How he would walk me home. How we both went to the same middle school. Highschool. How he got cooler and meaner then. How we became strangers. That makes me sad.

We weren't great friends, but he walked me home
          and I'd ask someone if he could pee.

It was actually really cold that day. I couldn't feel my face.

I walked down Sutter Street. Danny and I used to walk home down that street on our way back from middle school. He was my best friend. The world got smaller when I saw Khin on that same street a few hours ago. We hung out summer 96. He was one of those cats that graffed and b-boyed, but thought hip-hop was just another word for rap. He was cool. I don't think he knew who I was, but he said "Shup" and asked me if I was going home. He's still cool.

I passed a man shaking a paper cup with some change in it. He asked me how I was doing. I asked him how he was doing and gave him twenty cents. A few steps later, a man walking next to me told me he was wondering how the man shaking the cup was doing for himself. He said "he seems to be alright, you know?" I said "yeah" and smiled. I only had 20 cents.

I'm chatting with Tai now. We talked about Honey Bucket, we laughed. It's been almost 3 years. It's nice to hear from him. We also talked about our businesses. We sighed. And laughed. We talked about how we miss everybody. How we miss everybody. How we want a reunion. I'm scared people changed. I'm scared that they all had sex. I'm scared that they stole. I'm scared that they hurt someone. That they're different from nice, noisy, loving, laughing, laughing, happy, sunny.

That paper says they think my uncle is going to die soon. Not the alcoholic one that died earlier this year. The other one. The last one I'm related to by blood. That paper thinks I'm going to go to 4 times as many funerals as weddings in my life. I don't know to trust the paper. I can only read "And will die". Why does it have it's own line? It's just so fucked up for my aunt.

For my uncles. For my grandma. For Mr. Escueta on prom night. For life. For living. For unmeasured time. For Identity. For Identity. That's why you and I took a walk tonight.

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