I will not be moved!
Nov. 25th, 2001 11:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpI miss you. A lot. This feeling has been particularly poignant lately and it's time I said something about it. For honesty, and for posterity. I miss you.
When Hope, Megan, Rob and I were driving back from Milwaukee, Hope and I were swapping college stories. And whenever there was a detail she wasn't clear about, Megan was there with the answer. And Meg could insert little details. I found myself wishing you were in the front passenger seat, next to Megan, so that Hope and I could tell our stories, and from the front seat would come little bits of info, or expanded stories. On both sides of the car. I talked about Sweater Man, and Rho Rho Boata, and piercings at Utopia, etc. I wished you were there /so/ badly.
Last night, Christina and I were watching my Hofstra video. (My. God.) I don't know how you put up with me. Or how we understood each other. I spoke in vagueries, like, "Throw Vampy. Sideways." and you would do exactly what I meant. 'Stina even commented that she would have had no clue what I was talking about. Do you remember our room in Nassau/Suffolk? Goodness. All the silly cows. All the art stuff. My voice beamed with pride, "This is a painting Jodie made for set painting class. This is a puppet that Jodie made. It's so cool." I am your biggest fan, I think, though that's probably not saying much. You were my favorite actor in "Don't Turn Around." You are great with a banana. Are you sick of this yet? Of me?
I think, and this is laying a lot on you and I'm sorry (though you might never read it, so I'd be safe), that the one person I could ever conceive of spending the rest of my life with is you. I see us, the crazy old cat ladies up the hill, with our rocking chairs and our ornery conversations about "those fucking kids," grey, wise, and bitter. And that amuses me to no end. Not bitter in a bad way, or an unhappy way... but we'd have the front porch that kids would dare each other to walk up to. Yeah.
How we managed to spend 3 years in one room is beyond me. I don't think I could have done that, nor have wanted to, with anyone else. I don't miss being cramped like that, but I miss having you accessible to me, having you go nearly everywhere with me (there was never a question of asking), having you to talk to late at night or in the morning, watching goofy movies with you that we could quote at any time and for any reason, but most of all, I just miss you being around. Part of me's been missing since 1996. I miss it. A lot.
The Pirate Ship bunk, the pizza on the wall, Sweater Man, Don't Turn Around, holiday pictures on Park Avenue, getting so squished at the tree lighting that you levitated, Black 47 the night before graduation, bringing me pasta when I was sick, dragging my drunk ass home, helping you cut out snowflakes, John Clancy, "Bucket boy, bucket man!," shaving heads, Taboo, Naked Gun 2 1/2, getting chased in the Times Square station, TMBG concerts, Stefan doing Madonna, re-dressing Lia, sharing clothes...
You don't get told enough. I don't verbally appreciate you enough. But I miss you, Jode. Lots.
~//~
I want to make you smile whenever you're sad,
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.
All I want to do is grow old with you.
I'll get you medicine when your tummy aches,
Build you a fire when your furnace breaks.
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you.
I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold,
Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in the kitchen sink,
Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink.
Oh I could be the man to grow old with you.
I want to grow old with you.
When Hope, Megan, Rob and I were driving back from Milwaukee, Hope and I were swapping college stories. And whenever there was a detail she wasn't clear about, Megan was there with the answer. And Meg could insert little details. I found myself wishing you were in the front passenger seat, next to Megan, so that Hope and I could tell our stories, and from the front seat would come little bits of info, or expanded stories. On both sides of the car. I talked about Sweater Man, and Rho Rho Boata, and piercings at Utopia, etc. I wished you were there /so/ badly.
Last night, Christina and I were watching my Hofstra video. (My. God.) I don't know how you put up with me. Or how we understood each other. I spoke in vagueries, like, "Throw Vampy. Sideways." and you would do exactly what I meant. 'Stina even commented that she would have had no clue what I was talking about. Do you remember our room in Nassau/Suffolk? Goodness. All the silly cows. All the art stuff. My voice beamed with pride, "This is a painting Jodie made for set painting class. This is a puppet that Jodie made. It's so cool." I am your biggest fan, I think, though that's probably not saying much. You were my favorite actor in "Don't Turn Around." You are great with a banana. Are you sick of this yet? Of me?
I think, and this is laying a lot on you and I'm sorry (though you might never read it, so I'd be safe), that the one person I could ever conceive of spending the rest of my life with is you. I see us, the crazy old cat ladies up the hill, with our rocking chairs and our ornery conversations about "those fucking kids," grey, wise, and bitter. And that amuses me to no end. Not bitter in a bad way, or an unhappy way... but we'd have the front porch that kids would dare each other to walk up to. Yeah.
How we managed to spend 3 years in one room is beyond me. I don't think I could have done that, nor have wanted to, with anyone else. I don't miss being cramped like that, but I miss having you accessible to me, having you go nearly everywhere with me (there was never a question of asking), having you to talk to late at night or in the morning, watching goofy movies with you that we could quote at any time and for any reason, but most of all, I just miss you being around. Part of me's been missing since 1996. I miss it. A lot.
The Pirate Ship bunk, the pizza on the wall, Sweater Man, Don't Turn Around, holiday pictures on Park Avenue, getting so squished at the tree lighting that you levitated, Black 47 the night before graduation, bringing me pasta when I was sick, dragging my drunk ass home, helping you cut out snowflakes, John Clancy, "Bucket boy, bucket man!," shaving heads, Taboo, Naked Gun 2 1/2, getting chased in the Times Square station, TMBG concerts, Stefan doing Madonna, re-dressing Lia, sharing clothes...
You don't get told enough. I don't verbally appreciate you enough. But I miss you, Jode. Lots.
~//~
I want to make you smile whenever you're sad,
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.
All I want to do is grow old with you.
I'll get you medicine when your tummy aches,
Build you a fire when your furnace breaks.
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you.
I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold,
Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in the kitchen sink,
Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink.
Oh I could be the man to grow old with you.
I want to grow old with you.
