Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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Midnight Escapades

I can�t tell if it�s because I had yogurt that now for the second day in a row I am throwing up from both ends, or if it�s because the yogurt was expired for a month now. Whatever the reason, my stomach is rebelling in all the rebellious ways it knows.

It�s midnight and I drag my bike two floors down by stairs. I quickly zoom past bunch of college students drinking beer (posers) and they comment how the only thing they saw was a tripod. My neighbor thought it was a shotgun� I do not see a difference between the two.

I stopped on top of the cemetery hill. It overlooks the whole city. City of cemeteries. I set up my tripod near my friend�s. As I take extended-exposure photos of the grave stones illuminated by the moon, he creeps up from behind me to check out my work.
�Don�t do that. I elbow people as an instinct.�
He still continues. He thinks I am silly to say things like that. Quite cute of me.
He pokes me on my sides, I wriggle in pain.
�Don�t do that. I�ll throw up.�
He continues. It�s cute to poke an adorable person like me. It�s just enjoyable.
Done with the night photos, we pack up our equipment. He rests his hands on my shoulders. Pats my back.
�Don�t do that. I DO NOT like being touched.�
He laughs. I am so silly. My rules are silly. I should be in an Asylum, he says.
He pokes some more.

I run towards the nearest bush and throw up.
�I swear to God, you touch me one more time, and I am not hanging out with you ever again.�
He puts his hands around me and says the things I say are just oh so adorable.

I think I need a new photography buddy.
At least my photos were better than his.
And my stomach still disagrees.

11:20 a.m. - September 11, 2010

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