08 January 2011

round and round

I woke up late and still stupid with the exhaustion of the week that I couldn't shake off. By 4:30, I was beginning to worry that I might not leave my house today, and that would have been unacceptably slothful and boring, not because I think it is unacceptably slothful and boring not to leave your house all day, but because all I was doing was staring at my computer at a level of slothful and boring that was giving me a headache.

Someone had mentioned rollerskating in the last few days, and so I asked A. if she wanted to join me for open skate in Adjacent City. She did, and we went skating with all the little kids and flirting teenagers and overly-enthusiastic men and one determined young boy who fell and hurt himself repeatedly but still joined every race. "That is one brave little kid," we said several times, watching him fight back involuntary tears of pain as he got up and started forward again, arms out for balance.

A. and I are both constitutionally incapable of talking about un-intense things, and so we talked about faith and church and insecurities as we circled the floor, sometimes speaking louder over the music, trying to drown out like a G6 and watch me burn and in my skintight jeans with our discussions.

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