1.0 Sitka Spruce
(picea sitchensis)
Just found out that a young guy who I had a serious crush on when I was a teenager died a couple of years ago after being hit by a car in Whistler. He was one of the assistant coaches of the sailing course I took down in the harbor every summer during highschool. It’s a weird feeling, definitely the closest death to happen to me so far.
I can also say that the world is worse off without him. He was a cool dude. Now I’ve got all sorts of weird creepy feelings knowing how I liked a dead person.
Dude, you’re gay, right?
I totally don’t care.
No, really. I mean, even though I am really thinking about it the whole time I’m over here, and I’m totally not going to use your toilet, I realize that your sexual preference is none of my business.
Honestly, who you want to fuck doesn’t make a lick of difference to me, because I just don’t care if you’re gay or straight. Maybe you’re bi. Doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I’m going to assume you’re checking me out whenever we hang out now. I’m going to feel awkward and uncomfortable when talking about hot women, because I know you don’t fit into that conversation. And if you bring up a guy who you think is hot, I’m going to ignore it because it makes me feel weird. Later on, I’ll brag about you to my other friends. I’ll use you as a stamp to prove I’m not homophobic. ‘I’m not homophobic!’ I’ll proclaim. ‘I’ve got gay friends!’
The truth is, though, you should know that I’ll always be there for you. In a strictly platonic way. I mean, it’s not like you can come over and cry at my place. Let’s be fair, that’s a bit too gay, you know what I mean? And of course, if you want to try to give me fashion tips or something, that’d be awesome, I hear you guys really know a lot about that stuff. But you can’t touch me. Ever.
Oh, and I also heard a rumor that lots of chicks hang out with gay guys? So if you know any hot chicks, send them my way, because I know you’re not using them for anything.
So just to reiterate, I don’t care if you’re gay. Just as long as you never indulge your sexuality in any way shape or form while I’m present, we’re cool. Pretend it doesn’t exist, because I’m going to do my best to do that.
”All you write on postcards are apologies.
It is raining cats and dogs outside. I saw my breath this morning when I walked out to my car — should you be able to do that in May?
There is a prickly sense of worry and concern crawling over my back. The gym helped, so did the food.
I think I will climb the mountain tomorrow.
