An Evening

(originally posted to my MySpace blog June 22, 2006)

It is dark in my room and it’s thundering outside.  The fan by my feet cools the gathering sweat on my brow, my shirtless belly, my socked feet. The rainy breeze blows across the roof, stealthily into my window.

When I was a teenager once I had a pet frog.  I didn’t really want the pet frog, a freind bought it for me.  I named him Orson.  I did think he was adorable and made a nice addition to my bedroom.  But I had no interest in buying this thing crickets or whatever and feeding them to him.  It was a disgusting ritual. Once I bought five or so crickets and put them all in there at once, so I wouldn’t have to do it again anytime soon.  The next morning Orson and all five crickets were dead.  Orson’s belly was bloated to the size of a golf ball, and purple.

I tried lighting a candle in here a moment ago, but the fan won’t let me.  It blows it out after a few flickers.  It shouldn’t be so dark at this time of day, during this time of year.  It’s the clouds.

I was laying on the day-bed beside her, and it was around noon.  It felt like we had been kissing for hours.  That was all she’d let me do: kiss her, which was fine by me.  It was enough.  Just kissing her was enough.
      She pulled back, whispered in my ear, You’re the most intense guy I’ve ever met.
      I thought to myself, What a load of bullshit.  I’m barely even here.
      I was drunker than hell and she knew it.

I’ve turned on the small lamp on the bedside table and put a shirt on.  The damp air after the rain is pouring into my window like a gray fog; everywhere I have goosebumps.

I was laying awake the night before our fourth grade field trip.  We were going to go to Baltimore.  All week long we had been learning about the historical things we would see there.  Mainly, in my young boy’s mind, the USS Constellation, a retired wooden warship, that we would get to walk through.  But I was not laying awake out of excitement, but out of worry.  Outside my second story bedroom window raged a tremendous thunderstorm. From the moment I had been neatly tucked in by Mom, the cracks and bright bursts had come steadily, illuminating for brief moments the dancing branches of our sidewalk Elm.  The boughs looked like grabbing claws.
      I was picturing the USS Constellation, anchored in the harbor, riding huge waves, slamming the dock, taking hits of lightning to the main mast.  In some versions, it capsized, went under, never to be seen again.  In others, it rode out the storm, was there the next day, where I got to walk through it just like a soldier.  A little, tired soldier.

The clouds are moving away. Hovering above the horizon, you can still see the cracks of heat lightning.  My room is warm again.  I take my shirt back off, turn on the television.  Pour myself a glass of Dr. Pepper.  The warm air is mingling with the cold air, and the temperature is perfect.

14 Responses to “An Evening”

  1. Kyle Sundgren Says:

    Childhood rooms are just tremendous. Since moving away I’ve not been in one place long enough to have such a long time line of memories. Even if I was, the room would lack the childhood imagination that breeds great memories. Great blog.

    • sethdellinger Says:

      maybe it’s not a great blog. it doesn’t seem to have come across right. None of these things are in the same room, they’re all different rooms. Dagnabit!

  2. Franklin Says:

    I liked not knowing exactly what the connective tissue was. Each “stanza”, as it were, seems to stand perfectly fine on it’s own.

  3. shannon Says:

    You can tell each event is in a different room. You just cannot tell how they are connected if they are supposed to be connected. I like how you tell something from different points in time of your life. Then of course bring it back to present time during beginning, middle, and end.

    • sethdellinger Says:

      thanks!!! Youread it the exact same way I read it, which is to say, how I meant it :) This is no surprise, old soul!

      • sethdellinger Says:

        Not that you other guys are dumb for reading it your way. It’s still obviously not clear enough if such alternate readings are possible.

  4. Chandra Says:

    I like how this makes me picture you with your shirt off. ;)

  5. cory w. Says:

    This reminds me of driving, because this is EXACTLY how my mind works when i drive. I zone out and get lost in very detailed, yet randomly occuring, memories. Then the next moment I’m instantly pulled right back to the drivers seat, circa now, because I have to pay attention to the road. Then the pattern repeats. This happens to me almost every time I drive, unless I’m having a conversation with a passenger. My most vivid memories come back to me in the car. If the experiences were changed, the memories you’ve written could have been taken right from my head. This is really interesting, if not a little creepy. But what the hell do I know, I zone out all the time. Damn ADD.

    • sethdellinger Says:

      I specialize in creepy. :) I actually daydream (read: fantasize) while driving, usually. The random memories come to me at moments like this, like laying on a bed or a couch at home. Glad you could relate!

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