Diary Friday

This is an entry from my freshman year in college – the end of my first semester, right before Christmas break. I am still dear friends with all of these people – who were brand-new friends to me at the time of this writing.

Continuity. I love continuity.

December 1985

We were all going roller-skating that night. Brett and Liz came to pick me up, came inside to say hello to my family. Sugar cookies, exchanging gifts. I gave Brett a Christmas ornament that I stole (an old joke).

Liz gave me a present from Brooke to me – she had made a tape of “The Nylons” for me. I had asked her to.

Then we left. It’s snowed a little. We got in the car. We didn’t go to Ocean Skate but to a better place near Chuck E. Cheese. Ocean Skate is vicious, slick, slippery, with sharp chromium corners. This place is old, battered, with an organ, a counter like a trolley-car – paintings of old 30s movie stars – all wood.

We met Marilyn and Jim and Brooke there.

We all roller-skated. I love the feeling I get when skating – I feel light as air, the air lifting my hair off my face. Watching Liz bounce by – Brett stiff as a board – Jim easy – Brooke unsure –

Marvin came! I love Marvin!

“Sheila!! Hey – I like those new glasses!!”
“Marvin! Hello!!”

Brian and Susan came – Brian is as graceful a skater as a dancer, so lithe. We went round and round, we made trains. I skated hand in hand with Brett and Jim, they whipped me around the corners. Marilyn and I skated on the “couples skate”. I had some chips and gingerale. It was such a cool place. Brett chased me.

He glided up to me and said, “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to Chuck E. Cheese.”

I laughed. “I love Chuck E. Cheese!!”

We skated together for a while, and then I said, “Member the first time you took me there?”

“When – my birthday?”

“No – the 2010 night.” (That’s what we call it – the “2010 night”).

“Oh yeah! The 2010 night! That was so much fun!”

I had bought cards and presents for everyone, a little key chain for Brooke with a poem on it. The poem reminded me of her. We are so alike. So we skated together and I said to her, “I got you a very dumb present. I’ll give it to you later.”

“Sheila!! You got me a present?? Why??”

“……”

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I didn’t get you anything!”

“You gave me the tape–”

“You asked me to do that. Oh, I’m so embarrassed…”

I love these new friends. New terrific friends. They welcome me. It is not hard to feel like you belong. All you have to do is be yourself. I am just me with them. I swear – I’m me. And this me feels rich and wonderful and giving and special. With them. With others sometimes I feel inadequate and very very upset. But with them I am comfortable. (Or as comfortable as a very paranoid person can feel.)

The rink closed at 10:30 and then we all went to Providence to Brian’s apartment.

Won’t be able to describe it.

It is an old abandoned brick factory right on the hightway. Dim lights, brick walls. The place is huge – an incredible stereo – many many records and 45s – knick knacks – a shadowy studio with racks of vintage clothing – dummies – a table with a lace tablecloth – There is a SWING in the main room. Dangling from ropes in the ceiling. I took a nice long swing, as the water boiled for the pasta – my feet almost touching the ceiling. Mozart playing.

Then you go up two steps around a little corner and you are in a different world – the living room. It is like entering another time, like going back to Victorian times. The rest of the space has a flat green floor, very factory-ish, perfect for dancing – But the little living room has overlapping Oriental rugs, fat couches, a wood stove. It is like this room has been transported, as is, into the factory.

The 9 of us (Brian, Susan, Brett, Liz, Brooke, Jim, Marilyn, me, and Chris – a guy who is staying with Brian at the moment – very cute and indescribably hilarious – he is a fireman and also a professional juggler – WHAT?) all helped set the table. Pulled up chairs. Jim lit the candles. There were pink shiny napkins. And wine glasses. We had spaghetti, and bread, and salad that Chris made – and wine. The only light was from all the candles. It all looked so cool.

How bizarre that I was actually there.

Everything tasted so delectable. I savored every single bite of that garlic bread. I couldn’t taste it enough, it seemed.

Music played the whole time.

Brian and Marilyn and Jim and Susan danced – so fun to watch. Then Brian and Susan danced for us – total improvisation – but it looked choreographed. They both dance with such grace, they make it look so easy.

Then we all gorged on chocolate and vanilla bon bons.

Somehow, we all started trying on hats. Brian has boxes of everything for his shows – shoes, gowns, bags – He has two enormous cardboard boxes of hats. He plopped one down saying, “This is for the girls” – so we all dug in. We tried on hats. Switching, trading, running to peek in the fuzzy mirror over the sink. Fedoras, straw boaters, close velvet hats, straw hats with flowers, chic velvet hats – so many hats! We all had to decide on one. I finally picked a small green felt hat, with a curved brown bird feather on the front.

Liz had on this HYSTERICAL grey swooping hat with blue trim. We called it her “Flying Nun” hat.

Brett had on an ENORMOUS black top hat.

Susan had on a fedora and looked like a detective.

Brooke had on a blue straw thing with white flowers and a blue lace veil.

Brian, Jim and Chris all had on variations of the same fedora.

Oh yeah, before – when all of us were poring through the boxes, I happened to look over at the guys. Chris was sitting down, discussing something with Jim, in a very normal way. A normal conversation between two guys. His face was expressionless, he was nodding at what Jim was saying – but he was wearing this hat – that was … HUGE. It wrapped around his head – and it looked like his head was sprouting enormous curly stuffed brown felt branches, with felt leaves fluttering off the end. The branches shot up and out and around –

I took one look at him and completely lost it.

From the expression on his face, you would never know that he was wearing that Medusa-like monstrosity.

I clutched at Liz – “Liz! Look!!”

We were crying with laughter.

Chris is one of the guys, out West, who is dropped out of helicopters into the middle of forest fires, behind the fire lines. He is brave and strong. He met his current girlfriend that way – she also is a firefighter who is tossed out of helicopters. We made jokes about Chris holding this massive fire hose, spraying it at the wall of flames, screaming at the female firefighter next to him, hollering above the roar, “HEY – HOW ‘BOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE TONIGHT??”

Chris eventually traded in that thing for a fedora which promptly made him look like Desi Arnez Jr.

We all sat in the living room, in our hats, talking as though we were normal.

I would forget myself, and then just look at everyone – and lose it! We coined names for everyone that went with the hats. I was Beatrice.

We sat around, getting into the Christmas spirit – we sang “Deck the Halls”, all with our hats on – and somehow it was – so moving – but then so hilarious, too. “Fa la la la la la la” – After we sang that song very softly, very prettily, I could hear Liz start to giggle softly to herself, and then I looked around at everyone too – and it was just too damn funny. The fedoras, the Flying Nuns …

More wine. More laughter.

Brian brought up this “script” from an old radio show that he had on a 45 – it went like this:

“Hello, Elsie.”
“Hello, Jack.”
“Feeling pretty good?”
“Mmmm … Fine, thanks.”

We re-enacted this conversation over and over and over – giving each other direction – We went around the circle doing it. Then we had guys lip sync girls, girls lip sync guys. It was so much fun.

We also looked at Brian’s collection of old comic books.

Brian told us of one sentence from one of the comics which he thought was so brilliant:

“For you are a lump of wax that came to life – only to discover that death was better than loneliness and hatred.”

Brian kept bursting out spontaneously with that sentence, as he was cooking the pasta, as he went to change the 45s – or someone would make a comment, Brian would glance at that person, and then burst out, with incredible feeling:

“For you are a lump of wax that came to life – only to discover that death was better than loneliness and hatred.”

By the end of the evening, the rest of us had it down pat, too.

We played musical hats. Passing the hats round the circle.

We KEPT laughing because no matter what hat Chris wore – he always looked like Desi Arnez Jr, even in little old lady hats.

Everything was wonderful, everything was hysterical. The room was so comfortable, with so much character – soft lamplight, velvety couches, a random lava lamp – and fantastically funny people – all with bizarre hats on. All spouting out different nonsensical statements:

“Hello, Jack…” “Hello, Elsie…”
“For you are a lump of wax…”

The big top hat, when on Brian, was so huge that it came down to his chin. His whole head became a top hat.

We then went around the circle and told our most memorable Christmas stories.

Brian, as a kid, wanted something called “The Great Garloo” – a monster that picked up things in its way.

Brett wanted a 10 speed bike more than anything. He ran downstairs with his flashlight, like he always did – No bike. He was very bummed but he tried to cheer up for his parents, since it was Christmas. Then his father took him down into the cellar, and there was a 10-speed bike. I got teary-eyed when he told it.

Brooke wanted Legos once. She thought they would be in her stocking, but no. No Legos in her stocking. Then her parents took her outside, and there on the front lawn – in the snow – was a Lego setup – already assembled – sitting there covered with snow – as though Santa had dropped it, pre-set-up, on the lawn from his sleigh. Brooke, as a kid, totally believed that that was what had happened.

We all roared about the “Twilight Zone Christmas Story” which we all had seen. The one about the old drunken corner Santa Claus – who finds himself with a magic bag that gives people what they ask for.

And there is the awful and FUNNY moment when he is summoned by the authorities in the department store:

“San – TA!”
Santa gets startled, and then crashes into the tree – The tree goes down, with Santa entangled in the branches.

Brooke kept doing that and laughing. “San-TA!”

Brett does “an imitation of the Devil” which appeared a couple of times over the night. When he does it – the entire room erupts into hysterical laughter – and we laugh non-stop – until it HURTS – until we beg him to stop. It is horrible. His “Devil” is a leering googly-eyed hissing sex maniac. I was laughing so hard that it hurt. I couldn’t stop.

Brett also claims that he suffers from something that he calls “the Macy’s Day Parade Float Disease”. Brett, while in the middle of a conversation, in the middle of a sentence, suddenly “inflates” – and then he bobs in the air – like an enormous Macy’s Day Float. Brett coined this medical term. We would all be sitting there talking, when suddenly, Brett would make this hissssss noise, and rise up – it looked so real – his limbs bobbing out to the sides – I could almost see him fill up with helium – HE LOOKED LIKE A DAMN FLOAT – he would float there – immobile – “Hissssss” – and there he was, arms limp, but inflated somehow, face in a steady expression – body bobbing about –

We all DIED with laughter every time he became a Float.

The hats came off, and lay strewn around us.

As time went on, I looked around me and realized that no one had a hat on anymore, but Chris. He was wearing this little green velvet thing – the one I had on originally. I do not feel like explaining – there is just something about his face – even when it is serious – that makes me want to roar with laughter. Especially as he sat there casually, as though he didn’t even know or care that this absurd little-old-lady hat was on his head. He did not take it off. He didn’t even know it was on anymore. This large muscular FIREMAN in this teeny girlie hat.

In the center of our circle of courches was a very small round table. On it was a lit candle dripping wax, and a wine bottle (green glass).

Someone noticed this suddenly and commented on how artistic it looked, how it was a little tableau.

Then we all went a little crazy, adding things to the tableau.

-We put a wooden chair behind the table.
-Liz’s Flying Nun hat hung on the back of the chair
-We put the black felt fedora on the seat of the chair
-A book of matches on the table
-A few dollars crushed under the wine bottle
-Black-framed sunglasses with purple lenses lying near the candle
-A wine goblet half full of wine
-The phone (off the hook) in the background
-The clock at 2:45 am on the wall
-Liz threw her sweater on the floor for a seductive touch
-Brett found a red velvet stuffed heart, and he tossed it under the table – (even though if our tableau were a painting, the heart would not be seen). Brett said, “It’s okay – the heart is subliminal. It’s subliminal.”

HE KEPT SAYING THAT.

“You don’t see the heart but you know it’s there. It’s subliminal.”

After the tableau – we started pulling out all of Brian’s old 45s. By “old” I mean, pre-1940.

Brian found what he calls “the hyena record” – which is: background music with a guy roaring with laughter the entire time. We put it on. Brett lip synced to the guy’s laughter.

I must just leave the image of that to the imagination. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life. We made Brett do it 5 times.

The evening had this magical quality to it. With catch-phrases and catch-images.

“Hello, Jack.”
“For you are a lump of wax…”
“It’s subliminal. It’s subliminal.”
“San – TA!”
“Mmmm … fine, thanks.”

People were spontaneously turning into Macy’s Parade floats.

Brett played the Devil taking over Brett so that he was half-Brett and half-the devil – and it was a war for the soul of Brett. He was a complete schizophrenic.

We did the “Hello Jack” thing over and over – we chose different ways to do it – seductive, friendly, menacing – every single emotion covered in those 4 lines.

Jim did one. He was wearing his goofy straw hat with a plaid ribbon so that he looked like a traveling salesman.

Brian started it. He played Elsie. (Sex made no difference when we did these improvisations.)

“Hello, Jack.” Brian said.

Jim sat all hunched over, and tired, his face low – He mumbed in an exhausted rundown voice, “Hello, Elsie.”

Long silence. No one spoke for a while.

Brian then said sincerely, “Feeling pretty good?”

Jim sighed deeply, and let out a long “Mmmmm” – that was more of a sigh than a sound – then he mumbled, “Fine …” – Then an emotional change – Jim looked up for the first time – right at Brian – his face full of real gratitude – and he said, putting all of that into one word, “Thanks.”

We all went “Ohhhhh” and then burst out laughing.

At one point, when we were all mellow, and lying around talking about I don’t remember what – I looked over at Brett. He was in this sprawled pose on the couch arm, and he looked enormously pensive. He had taken, by that point, to speaking almost constantly in this very lofty sing-song semi-English accent. He did it practically the whole night.

(I realize that, more and more, Brett sounds like a schizophrenic. He is the Devil. He is a float. He is an odd English gentleman. He is a hyena.)

So anyway, he was in this pensive pose, and I heard him say, to no one in particular, “I ponder the universe. I think of its fruits.”

I just think that is so funny. Nobody heard it but me. He said that OUT OF THE BLUE. TO HIMSELF.

On the drive home, it was freezing. I got Brett’s furry leopard-skin lap robe, wrapped myself up and curled up in the back seat. Everything felt so soft and comfy. I wasn’t cold at all. It was really cozy in the robe. None of us (me, Brett or Liz) really felt like talking. We rode in silence.

But then suddenly I remembered, “I ponder the universe, I think of its fruits” and I BURST out laughing, randomly, from the backseat.

“What?” Brett demanded from the wheel.

I giggled, “I ponder the Universe. I think of its fruits.”

Brett started giggling too – then he said it again – in that English accent:

“I ponder the Universe …
I think of its fruits…”

Then, of course, he started getting out of control. And since, of course, I kept laughing – Brett KEPT getting out of control. He loves to make me laugh. Brett kept going:

“I ponder the Universe.
I think of its fruits.
I think of the plants.
I think of the roots.
I think of the shoes.
I think of the boots.
I think of the ladders.
I think of the chutes….”

And it was the “ladders chutes” rhyme that ended the game because we both were laughing too hard. Brett had held on as long as he could – but he just could not stop from breaking down at that one.

We were careening through the night, roaring.

Then I fell asleep on the ride home.

Last thing I knew I was curled up, totally content and warm – and then the next thing I knew – the car light was on and I heard Brett and Liz’s soft very gentle voice, “Sheila? Wake up …”

Slowly, I woke up …

“Good Lord, do you snore like a maniac.” Brett exclaimed.

Groggily, I disentangled myself from the rug and leaned over to say “Merry Christmas” to my two dear friends – Hugs, kisses.

Then I climbed out of the car, my shoes crunching in the snow on the driveway – it was shockingly cold – I was sleepy.

I leaned back in the car and stated, “For you are a lump of wax…”

Brett and Liz finished the phrase for me, in triumphant unison.

Then I went inside, after calling goodbye, and went promptly to sleep. Blissful sleep.

Really good night.

So many little wonderful hysterical rich things happened. Those hats. And Chris in those hats … Chris was smoking a cigar wearing this little going-to-church hat.

Dammit, that is funny.