Monday, March 4, 2013

day to days

he said, "that's the wrong stroke order."

i said, "no, look: this stroke should align with this stroke."

he said, "they can still line up.  believe me.  i'm pretty good at stroke order."

i texted adam the next day after i had looked up the stroke order for haku.  北. "you were right.  as you always are."

this is one of my favorite games: oh! do you know this one?  "hee-gah-shee.  higashi," i say as i draw the character in the air with my finger.  of course adam does.  that one's easy.  he's got this.  and i think sometimes this game becomes exasperating to him, but he still plays along.

zebra said, "wait.  shut the door."

close to two in the morning, zebra had pulled up in front of my building after driving me home from ryan's event at holocene.

"how are things with adam anyway?"

i responded that everything was fine, everything was going well.

he said, "sometimes you listen to everyone else's life, everyone else's problem and become so concerned about them that you don't open up as much as you could about your own life."

i didn't tell zebra this but here's the thing: how should i say that i find myself incredibly happy that adam knows really well the stroke order for writing out chinese characters.  how should i say that over and over i am so happy dating adam.

i know a few characters from studying japanese (half-heartedly) and adam teaches me chinese sometimes (我是美国人。)

i walked down the block from adam's house to buy a bottle of wine.  back through the backdoor into the kitchen, adam had the preparation of dinner in motion.  he blanched brussell sprouts and sliced sausage and heated coconut oil in a sautee pan.  i sliced mushrooms while he heated water for quinoa.  a beautiful meal developed from what adam randomly had in his refrigerator.  and he made it seem easy as if to say, yes, you can do this, too.

finishing our wine, we watched girls together in his bed, at the conclusion of which i fell promptly to sleep, tucked in like a big snoring baby. 

yes, i seem to snore, but adam says it doesn't bother him.

adam and i let ryan take pictures of our butts for his slideshow to be displayed at holocene during the party.  adam stayed home, but while at the event i received a text message from him: "how does my bum look on the projector?"

"every time your ass came up i said proudly, 'that's my guy.  doesn't he look good?'  your butt looked hot over and over."

"ha i know you didn't but it makes me smile to think you did."

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