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Nov. 2nd, 2002 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taratemimaI was feeling more like an observer than a social animal, so I people-watched, drank tea and ate pizza before going to two parties. I waited for the bus out longer than I expected, but at least I remember why I should get gloves before the holiday season.
Meanwhile, a little more about Joe Freedman.
You want some firsts?
My first memory was walking, or maybe wobbling in the backyard. It was a sunny day, light reflecting off a beachball and a horse scooter (I am not even certain if such things really existed). Mom was sitting in a chair, all black bob and white dress, staring at me. She looked like she was watching me, but I remember this distinct feeling she wasn't really looking at me. Then I just remembering falling down and feeling slightly shocked.
My first record was a record for a cereal mascot, Velvet the Chocolate Bunny. At five, I was obsessed with collecting five box tops from the Chocolate Bunny Ears cereal (it's okay if you don't remember it, it was local and didn't last long). The 45 had the "Velvet the Chocolate Bunny March" on side 1 and "Complete Breakfast" on the other ("Milk and juice and toast and a big bowl of Chocolate Bunny Ears"). That record influenced me more than those Velvet Underground posers.
My first kiss was from Nancy Stewart in third grade. It was either that or get beat up. See, I ate the last Cinnamon Bomb and she figured kissing me would give her a taste.
My first detention was that same year, after story time. Miss Murray had us sitting Indian-style. Getting up, I said "Bye, paleface." That landed me in the principal's office.
My first song was called "Jumprope," and was goofy versions of all the jump rope rhyhms the girls would do, making fun of teachers. That got me my second trip to the principals office, when Miss Murray saw it at desk inspection time.
The first song I was proud of was "Lunch Room Saga," another satire on high school politics. This time, the crowd loved it when Free Food debuted it, maybe because they thought it was about someone else.
My first date was a girl I took to the spring semi-formal (fifth grade), because my dad wanted to get in good with another GP. Her name was Beth Douglas, and she was a lot nicer than you would expect someone going under duress would be. She bought me a pretzel and Coke and talked about cartoons and raising rabbits and hamsters. Last time I checked, she was an admistrator at the Franklin Zoo.
My first real friend was Jacob Bridges. As much as we argue, even though we go our own way, he is a lot more genuine and accepting than most people. He also sings and plays well, even if he doesn't think so. He is my straight man, my dinner connection, my crash course in actual pop music, and smarter and braver than he thinks.
My first girlfriend was Marni Bonaventura, at age 27.
My first apartment was in the shittiest street in JP, with Jacob and some guy named Frank Pierpauli. Frank was a ponce, but a good cook.
My first death was my mother. Let me get a drink first before I talk about it. I want to delay it as long as possible.
Meanwhile, a little more about Joe Freedman.
You want some firsts?
My first memory was walking, or maybe wobbling in the backyard. It was a sunny day, light reflecting off a beachball and a horse scooter (I am not even certain if such things really existed). Mom was sitting in a chair, all black bob and white dress, staring at me. She looked like she was watching me, but I remember this distinct feeling she wasn't really looking at me. Then I just remembering falling down and feeling slightly shocked.
My first record was a record for a cereal mascot, Velvet the Chocolate Bunny. At five, I was obsessed with collecting five box tops from the Chocolate Bunny Ears cereal (it's okay if you don't remember it, it was local and didn't last long). The 45 had the "Velvet the Chocolate Bunny March" on side 1 and "Complete Breakfast" on the other ("Milk and juice and toast and a big bowl of Chocolate Bunny Ears"). That record influenced me more than those Velvet Underground posers.
My first kiss was from Nancy Stewart in third grade. It was either that or get beat up. See, I ate the last Cinnamon Bomb and she figured kissing me would give her a taste.
My first detention was that same year, after story time. Miss Murray had us sitting Indian-style. Getting up, I said "Bye, paleface." That landed me in the principal's office.
My first song was called "Jumprope," and was goofy versions of all the jump rope rhyhms the girls would do, making fun of teachers. That got me my second trip to the principals office, when Miss Murray saw it at desk inspection time.
The first song I was proud of was "Lunch Room Saga," another satire on high school politics. This time, the crowd loved it when Free Food debuted it, maybe because they thought it was about someone else.
My first date was a girl I took to the spring semi-formal (fifth grade), because my dad wanted to get in good with another GP. Her name was Beth Douglas, and she was a lot nicer than you would expect someone going under duress would be. She bought me a pretzel and Coke and talked about cartoons and raising rabbits and hamsters. Last time I checked, she was an admistrator at the Franklin Zoo.
My first real friend was Jacob Bridges. As much as we argue, even though we go our own way, he is a lot more genuine and accepting than most people. He also sings and plays well, even if he doesn't think so. He is my straight man, my dinner connection, my crash course in actual pop music, and smarter and braver than he thinks.
My first girlfriend was Marni Bonaventura, at age 27.
My first apartment was in the shittiest street in JP, with Jacob and some guy named Frank Pierpauli. Frank was a ponce, but a good cook.
My first death was my mother. Let me get a drink first before I talk about it. I want to delay it as long as possible.
