So yeah, let me get to the cause of all this whooing and hooing. His name is Giancarlo, perhaps I have mentioned him. I just decided to be brave, to give him another call, to quit clinging to notions of dignity/pride/arrogance - to call someone I want to see and to see if he'll see me, to quit worrying about all the other times I have called, left messages, and gotten no responses - to fucking throw myself into the wind. I called so nervously, dialed numbers hesitantly, thinking that I should just hang up, that this is insane, that this boy hates me, that I should just save myself the embarrasment.
Before I had time to follow through with hanging up, he answered the phone sleepy sounding, mumbling a hello. I stepped on my foot to keep it in my place, to keep myself from jumping all over the place, from running running running. I said hi. And he said "Hi Charlie," awake and happy seeming. For some reason, the fact that I did not have to prompt him with my name, saying "this is Charlie" - that he knew right away made me so happy immediately. And yeah, the rest is a blur of happiness from there, him saying that he had called me a couple of times and that I was out. And so, yeah, we are suppose to meet at the Echo Tap around ten tonight. And I am fucking giddy - I am feeling this song so much now - I am the luckiest guy on the lower east side. I've got wheels and you want to go for a ride. Fuck yeah.