Yesterday : lunch in classy Manchester eatery courtesy of George, rich gay friend in dolce and gabana. I always feel a slight twinge of guilt as I describe him as gay – I’d never say ‘I went for lunch with Andy, my rich heterosexual friend.’. But with George…I don’t know. He describes himself as ‘terribly queer as folk’. It’s a part of who he is. Think Jack not Will.Today : Andy does confuse me sometimes – I’m never entirely sure when he’s joking and when he’s not and that unnerves me – but he is a nice boy and he wants to be head boy. And so I decided to do all I could, even if that included sitting in his room and writing the damn speech for him. Which it did. But I got a tour of his lovely house – speedboat, jacuzzi et al – and a ride on his moped. I want I want I want. And I wrote a damn good speech, if I do say so myself. Which I may as well. I only hope he gets it. I’ve started imaging the scene when he does, him running over full of thanks for all my help, me filled with pride (in him, not my speech). I’ll feel awful if he doesn’t, I really will. I know how disappointed he’ll be and I know I’ll feel slightly responsible for that. I’m so convinced he’d be perfect for it, I had to keep biting my tongue to stop the confident phrases bouncing out. Also, I tried to point out that it won’t be the end of the world if he’s not made head boy. Sure it’ll look good on a CV but it’s not actually all that much fun and it’ll cause him so much hassle over the next year and really, it’s nothing important. Then I felt awful, because I see in his eyes the same thing mine were filled with last year. I had the same dream. Oh yes, you must be careful what you wish for.
< - >
* the marks of memories forgotten
* wasting emotions, over again
* intentions, and such
* nothing unusual, nothing's changed - just a little older, that's all (damien rice : amie)
* now I understand! It doesn't make sense because it isn't supposed to
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