Yeah, he's leaving again. I wish him the best, and hope that this journey up north is more fruitful, enjoyable and productive. He needs the chance to enjoy college. He made a mistake in his past and he's paid for it by being locked in this sick cycle of work, moving from apartment to apartment, and community college that has essentially taken away a part of his youth - his time to make mistakes and learn from them all. Granted, he made one large mistake that count for more than all of my little ones, but I hope, and believe, that he's learned and it's time for him to take another stab at youth and college. Leave the nomadic days behind and make this the last move for a while. I hope that he dives in head first, not looking back on the life that he made here, but looking forward into a new life that he can create in a new town, where people don't know his history, where he doesn't carry that ugly stigma that plagues him everywhere he goes in the triangle. It's a fresh start: an opportunity that doesn't come all the time. Good luck, buddy.
The reason for the diatribe? He had a going away party tonight. It was interesting to say the least. I just don't gel with some of his friends, especially the "Emo fuck" posse who arrived fashionably late in full force emo gear. The hair was parted across the forehead, the zipper hoodie was fastened, the feminine jeans were hugging those emaciated butts, and the world was sublimely morose. I met all five of the posse (which I numbered from one to five) and they weren't terrible. I was even able to upgrade "Emo Fuck 1" to "Bohemian chick" when my friend pointed out to me that the floppy hat and nose ring were just enough to offset her cloudy demeanor. The problem was that they were so empty. So lost in life. Maybe they were never given a chance. Maybe they didn't take their chance because they didn't believe that it was there. I don't know their stories, and I'm in no hurry to find them out. One was my age and going to school in Greenville for business after quitting his job at an indie record label in Raleigh that was eventually bought by Warner Brothers. It's a tough break, but I have to give him the most credit because he was striving for something: there was a goal in sight. Another one was a pseudo-intellectual from LA that spent the night lugging around a box of Franzia and explaining how he was only in NC because he was visiting his dad. He seemed in no rush to get back to his "home" in LA. The other two spent the majority of the night playing a little game that involved hitting each other in the crotch unexpectedly.
I just can't get on that level. I'm not trying to say that it's a level below me or above me, but it's obviously a different level. They are disappointed in their life, or their station, but are too apathetic to do anything about it and end up dropping out of school to work in a restaurant, where things just get worse and the cycle comes back around on itself. Either be unhappy and thus motivated, or apathetic and happy. They've chosen the worst of both worlds.
Finally, the most interesting and immature part of the night. It was like high school all over again. "He likes you. I promise." "Dude, go for her. She's really into you." And yet they stand on opposite ends of the room and look awkwardly in other directions. Eventually it does get awkward and can usually only go downhill from there, but it was subtle at first, and there was a chance for a connection, but they were both to gun shy and there was no action. The girl was a cute, less than 5 ft, New Yorker, and Steven was leaving the next day. I don't see the problem in the situation. But you can only push a thing like that so far before it either becomes awkward, annoying as shit, or both at the same time. I'll have to call Steven tomorrow to figure out how that whole thing worked.
I guess the point of this is to say how different it is to hang out with my friends here and then other groups of people. Here we can sit around, drink, and have intelligent, fun conversations that aren't too serious but are grounded in some sort of reality. With those guys I only see drinking as a tool to sink deeper into this void away from a rational mindset and intelligent thought. Is it a product of mental inferiority or personality? Who knows?