2.13.07

i want to spend more time with people who are different from me. i don't want all of my surroundings to be self-reflexive.

i was awakened by what must have been the noise of construction workers outside of my room, but which sounded like something halfway between the wood-chipper scene in fargo and a war zone. i had been dreaming about somebody that i know, or more accurately, somebody that i used to know very well. in my dream he was sitting on the ground with me, looking fully tired, telling me why he was no longer much of a part of my life. maybe we purposefully keep some of our old wounds from healing. letting them heal is maybe, in some ways, the same thing as forgetting the past. it's a bit heart-wrenching to see people in dreams that you rarely see in reality. i stopped seeing my grandfather in dreams years ago, but i had a few dream-conversations with him in the months following his death in 2001.

I also used to go on long walks, sometimes as late as 1 a.m. or even 3 a.m., just to walk, and just to think. Sometimes I'd walk the hour it took to get to Grass Valley and I'd sit and hang out with Julian. We'd watch Bruce Lee movies and make fun of people and play with words. I'd walk with him to the Circle K so he could buy his cigarettes, and then I'd wait outside as he did so. It usually took at least ten minutes for him to make the purchase, and then he would want to sit outside Circle K and smoke the first one. Julian is one of those amazingly bright and perceptive people. He has a humor and an honesty to him that is like that of a child - completely endearing - but with the wisdom of an ancient soul. I miss him more than I realized I could. He's one of those people who I will always say "I love you" to, in a completely platonic way, and completely mean it. He rarely returns his calls these days, which worries me a little. I feel like a jerk because I told him I'd spend thankgiving with him, watching Bruce Lee movies, but then I ended up getting into family drama and going to sleep at my Dad's house instead.

I got a call one night when I was at my Mom's house. I was about 16 or 17, maybe. I don't remember. Perhaps I was 18. Anyhow, it was Jules, telling me he'd been in a car accident. His girlfriend had driven into a brick wall trying to light a cigarette, and he'd gone through the windshield. A chunk of his forehead had been taken out, and they had to graft skin from his leg to his forehead, and he would have to wear a bandage around his head and endure a scar for the entirety of his life. I went to sit by his bed almost every day for the next few weeks, and then often for the few months following that. He lost a lot of weight and it was scary to behold. His hand got mangled, and he was afraid he would never be able to play bass again.

I last saw him at K-Mart, coincidentally when I went there with Cody with the intent of buying him a Christmas Present. Cody had driven me. Because I saw him there, and because he didn't seem too excited about the idea of a Christmas gift, I didn't get him one. I worry about him, though. I tried calling him this morning, and he didn't pick up.