Friday, February 17, 2012

A Great Whatever (blog story) 8

     The next couple of weeks saw little change in the current arrangement. Heather stayed over more often than she didn’t and she did start to move some items into your apartment. Milo enjoyed having new things to sniff and chew. He also appreciated having someone else annoy. You just didn’t have enough energy. Other than that she hadn’t told her parents and you hadn’t told yours. You had not even bothered to shop for rings. You certainly hadn’t looked for a job.
     The job was the lynchpin in the whole plan. Heather would remind you to look and you would lie that you had. The truth is that you want to take it easy. You just graduated from four years of college and the last thing you want to do was go out and find a job. You need to decompress, or so you rationalize. Besides, you have bigger plans.
     People have many different names for God. They call him Jehovah, Yahweh, Jah, and Allah. Your God is named open air concert seating. The previous summer, when you were supposed to be interning, you chose instead to see sixteen Nine Inch Nail concerts in two months. Yes, they were all pretty much the same, but that’s not the point.
     As far back as you can remember you’ve been a music junkie. Your compact disc collection is so large it takes up an entire corner of your living room even though most of the music you own is ripped online and exists as digital files. The first thing you did when you got Milo is built a pen around your ensemble. You had nightmares of him chewing through your Nirvana boxed set and it left you completely unnerved.
     This summer was going to be all about outdoor festivals. You bought tickets to all the big ones and a couple of the smaller ones. Your similarly irresponsible friends were all onboard. Heather does not care for music at all unless it’s on the radio and all her girlfriends are singing to it. It never ceases to amaze you how girls can remember the words to ever bad song ever written as well as their choreographed dance moves. You always said the girl you’d marry would have to love Led Zeppelin as much as you do. That didn’t quite work out. You think you told her about Coachella. You might have left out the others.

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