Number Three. Leeza Kaiser. Freshman Year High School. This was only a bad breakup because I was a dick. Leeza was my first real girlfriend. We passed notes to each other all the time in Mrs. Bass' Honors English class. The more I'd act up in class the more it would turn Valedictorian Leeza on.
A-go(Echo), dooo yore hoooomevork!(do your homework!) Mrs. Bass would say to me each day. Leeza and I were googly, puppy love, kissy face into each other. She was my first kiss. First makeout session. First to encourage my *dark side* in class.
I remember reading Romeo and Juliet in class. Mrs. Bass had me read the part of Romeo. Charmagne Angelo would play the part of Juliet. I was to read all the mushiness of Shakespeare with fifteen year old's hormones flying through my body and a seriously bad case of the *WTF?! Giggles*. I ditched the book and went it alone knowing the section by heart.
ROMEO A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks...
Oh, and one other thing, you are one hot chica!
Mrs. Bass rolled her eyes and begged me to sit down. I told her I loved this play more than Ibsen's A Doll's House. She laughed. Leeza swooned.
I was attracted to Leeza's smile and wit. Summer came and school let out. My friends wanted one last summer of baseball, video games, and bullshit. Leeza was the casualty. She rode her bike to my house to leave a letter for me in the mailbox. I still have it. I remember reading it for the first time listening to the local college radio station. A band born out of the ashes of Joy Division called New Order was playing. Blue Monday. The letter was sweet. "I don't want this to be over. We have so much fun together." And we do. We're still friends after all of these years.
How does it feel to treat me like you do? When you've your hands upon me And told me who you are
Leeza asked me why I was breaking up with her. Think fast, speak quickly. I couldn't. I had nothing. It was the only time I remember throwing out a line. "I just need some space right now. It's not you. It's me. But that wasn't true. It wasn't me. It wasn't her either. It was them. My friends. My boys. We knew things were about to get weird. We saw it in our older siblings who weren't engaged in the joy of doing nothing the way we still were. And I still find it so hard to say what I need to say... I just wanted to hang out with Flips, Zack-man, and the Scope.
And so I broke up with her... and I meant it... and I had to do it... and I couldn't let my boys down... And...
And two weeks later, Flips was dating Vicky. Zack-man was teasing Tammy. Scope was shotgunning beers with Missy Finkelman to get the quick buzz before making out... while I attempted in vain to collect them for a final game of kick the can which never happened. A couple weeks later I gave up the ghost and hooked up with Zara Carrier, at least until school started.
I went to a movie with Leeza in December of that year. I put my arms around her at the end of the night and we enjoyed a long, slow kiss.
Number 2. Lara Pinowski. Eighth Grade. Lara Pinowski was the girl of my dreams. I went to great lengths to try and bring her closer to me. While Shelly Brand was busy trying to figure out what the hell french kissing was with Dave Roberts, I was busy trying to find out if the girl in the Catholic School uniform would give me the time of day. Shelly didn't figure out french kissing until high school, and I never did get the time of day from Lara. In my head, Lara was one of my first girlfriends nevermind the fact that on this point she and I will have to agree to disagree on whether or not that's true.
Lara was dating this boy who had been my friend, that is, he was someone who never tried to kick my ass just for the hell of it. I came to Catholic School with a chip on my shoulder following a public school experience that after two years as the new kid in town the public school decided that I had spent too much time in fourth grade kicking alot of ass. Nevermind that I never started a fight in those two years. Greg Guffaroli was therefore my friend. Unfortunately, all is fair in love, war and politics or so I am told. Greg was standing in the way of my beautiful future with Lara.
In those days there were only two ways for a kid my age to make money - shovel snow and/or mow lawns. A year later I would figure out how to lie about my age and get a job working at an Italian Restaurant. I would have to wait a year though and Valentine's Day was right around the corner. Thankfully, that year we had a shitload of snow and there was a good chance I was going to make some tall paper. I knew exactly how I would spend it. Baseball cards, comic books, and a Valentine's Day present for Lara.
My mom worked at the local drugstore and was capable of getting me the employee discount. The local drugstore was great. The pharmacist who ran the place catered to his customer's needs. I needed X-men comic books? He'd stock them. Crazy Dave the Mechanic needed X-Rated Magazines, by golly, they were in stock. All of the ladies who worked at the store knew me. If I tried to buy something that my mom didn't approve, it would end up back in stock if mom was working the register.
I walked around the drugstore for 55 minutes waiting for my mom to take her lunch break. She wasn't moving. I checked out the toys and the comic books. I tried to determine which candy had been pulled from the stock; this was no easy task as this drugstore had the widest candy selection in the area. Finally, I caught her out of the corner of my eye walking to the back of the store. Operation Win Lara's Love was on.
In a blur of motion I was snagging the monstrously sized Valentine's Day Special Giant Hershey's Kiss in one hand and the special Valentine's Day card in the other. In no more than a few seconds I had the two items on the counter in front of the cashier and was digging out the coin.
"Does your mom know what you're doing?" Linda, the register Nazi asked me.
If I told the truth, the game was up. Linda, as I would learn later after hearing the exploits of her many failed relationships, needed to be lied to - loved to be lied to. The truth was too much for her to bear. I would make sure she didn't have to carry that cross.
"It's for my Grandma," I quickly replied. Faster the reply the more believable. Don't overthink it. Get it out. Avoid details. If you need details focus on something mundane that's true so that if you get called on it you'll have a plausible, verifiable truth on which to fall back.
"Your Grandma, Echo? Wouldn't your Grandma like something a little different? I mean-" I had to cut her off. She would have kept rambling ad nauseum and this would all be over. I needed to act quickly.
"No one buys her chocolate. Ever. She was telling me a story the other day about how my Grandpa always bought her flowers. Never chocolate. And she *loves* milk chocolate. She's going to be so happy. In fact, I'm going to buy her two! So, charge me accordingly!" I realized a half second after opening my mouth that if I didn't deliver at least one Valentine's Day Giant Hershey's Kiss to my grandma the whole thing was going to blow up. Fortunately, Linda was a hair weepy at my tale.
"I know what that's like. You're such a good young boy, Echo." I was out the door and home to hide the loot within ten minutes.
That Friday on my way out of school I waited for Greg to head to basketball practice which is where I was headed as well. We had a big game the next day against a rival Catholic School. As soon as he passed through the gym door I chased Lara down and handed her the card and the Valentine's Day Special Giant Hershey's Kiss.
"I know you're seeing Greg, Lara, but I needed to tell you how special you are to me. I think you're the most beautiful girl at St. P's. Even if you don't like me, I wanted you to know that I think you're nice and smart and beautiful." Her friend, Cheryl looked at me wide-eyed. Lara smiled. I was in!
The next day following the end of our game wherein Greg and I combined for twenty five points and twelve rebounds we ran up the stairs to our locker room exuberant and basking in our victory. I went to my locker and noticed that Greg was handing out invites to the team's party that would be in two weeks at his house. Somebody cranked up a boom box. Peter Gabriel was blaring on WLUP. Games Without Frontiers. I was taking off my jersey when I found myself on my back with my legs over the bench in front of my locker. My face was getting punched inside out. War without tears...
"Happy Valentine's Day, Lara. I really like you!?!?" He screamed at me as his fist pumped into my head, a raging piston of fury and uncontrollable pre-adolescent rage. I couldn't get a single punch off. It was Greg and he was furious. He ripped the card and shoved part of it in my mouth. "You listen to me you worthless fuck, if you ever go anywhere near Lara again I'll rip your fucking nuts off and feed them to you." If looks could kill they probably will... He hurled the unboxed Hershey's kiss at my head with stunning fury and from a distance of no more than three feet. It struck me above my eye and I instantly started bleeding. I grabbed my jersey while I was still on my back and quickly applied pressure to the cut. I felt something lightweight fall on my chest. Jeux...sans frontieres... Greg had dropped a small card onto my crumpled body.
"Invite to the team party. Don't read anything into it. It's nothing personal." Greg turned and strode away just as Coach walked in to find me bleeding on my back. The radio, cranked up to mask the ass kicking the team had planned, was quickly turned down.
"What in holy Christ happened to you?" the one time deacon asked.
"Umm..."
First rule of lying is to think and answer quickly....
"I couldn't get my locker open, Coach. Then it swung open and hit me in the face." Sounded good. Or good enough.
"Jesus Christ, Echo! Is there any simple task you can do without bleeding???"
The rest of the team went on to eat the Valentine's Day Special Giant Hershey's Kiss in front of me when Paulie Ice caught the rebound off my head. He offered it to the team in celebration of our victory. Coach commended him on his selflessness in sharing the chocolate prize with his teammates. I was derided for bleeding on my jersey. If looks could kill they probably will in games without frontiers, war without tears....
So, Lara wasn't interested in me. We went to high school together. Greg and I were never friends again. In practice a few weeks later, I split his lip wide open with a well placed elbow to the face.
"What the hell? Was that for Lara?" he asked.
"No," I replied, "that's for the card and the Kiss that cost me nine bucks, asshole." I lined him up then - just as my dad had taught me to defend myself - and punched him just above his eye. "That! That was for Lara... you fuckhead."
Lara sat on the sidelines watching the events unfold in her gold colored cheerleading uniform while Greg and I acted like apes. She never said a word nor changed her expression. Secretly, I think it pleased her to see us acting like buffoons. Unfortunately, she didn't realize that we two were deeply infatuated with her and in love as much as any fourteen year olds could be.
So, this wasn't much of a breakup, but since Greg broke my face up and I broke his, I say it counts.
Oh, by the way, Shelly Brand? Well, let's just say that licking a Q-tip and then having Dave lick it too is not french kissing. That's just not very hygienic.
Five times in my life I've had my heart torn out of my body and held up for the world and me to see. I can remember each one as if it were yesterday. Each had its own soundtrack and sits on my person a festering boil of experience.
Number 1. Andrea Riggleman. Kindergarten. We liked each other alot. I let her paint on my smock in Mrs. Miramonte's morning session. She showed me how to color a rainbow. I showed her how to go after the things that mattered in life. Sure, we were only five years old- okay, I was four - but that's irrelevant because when the sunlight hit the soap stained windows, poking through all of the construction paper art projects, we had it all. It didn't matter how old we were.
Then on that fine November morning following a vigorous morning of finger painting, *painting painting*, giggles and *duck, duck, goose* we found ourselves alone in the Kindergarten bathroom standing on stools leaning over the utility sink rinsing out our brushes, hands and arms. We giggled as the ice cold water lifted the paint off of our flesh and splashed it at the bottom of the basin in a melange of colors. I flicked the water from my hands, and.... And I made the biggest mistake of my short life, but one I don't regret. I kissed her on the cheek. Her mood turned stern and that was the end of Echo And Andrea sitting in a tree.
The next day, she wouldn't pick me for kickball. That was all she wrote.
Mom picked me up and was driving us to Meyer's Deli in Chicago to buy German deli meats and biscuits. I would pimp her for some marzipan if the situation presented itself. The crappy radio in the LTD blared out a number by Tanya Tucker. Delta Dawn. What's that flower you have on? I started bawling my eyes out. My mom began interrogating me in German. Was ist los? I told her my leg hurt from where it stuck to the vinyl seat. I couldn't tell her that Tanya Tucker, that fucking bitch, was mocking me through that shitty radio. I wanted to reach out and shove one of the five big push buttons to spin the dial to another station. WMAQ country music wasn't cutting it. And Andrea Riggleman would never pick me for kickball again.
In her younger days they called her Delta Dawn Prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on Then a man of low degree stood by her side And promised her he'd take her for his bride
That day I lost Andrea Riggleman as she wanted no part of this boy of low degree... but Tanya Tucker and I began a torrid 33 year relationship. So, take that, Andrea. And don't expect me to rinse your paintbrushes anytime soon. Won't happen. You can still wear my smock though...
Sunday, July 23, 2006
In The Flat Field
Bauhaus... Vinyl all worn out... Tapes eaten... Thankfully there's digital media...
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Psychedelic Furs - The Ghost In You
More testing and playing around. Go live in 2 weeks... Inside you the time moves and she don't fade...
