the loneliness of the long-distance runner
Jun. 6th, 2002 10:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabSo when I first met PV, no. It wasn't when I -- I'd sent her feedback on "Escape Speed," and then I sent her feedback on "Venture Forth," this long rambly thing quoting Szymborska and episodes of "thirtysomething," I think, and she wrote back and I did a little boppy dance: "Punk likes me!"
course I was new to XF then, and she was the shit, the best of the best. And she was so mysterious, I had no idea how old she was, didn't know her real name...screwed up the courage to trade IM names and we chatted all night, all distant and polite and strange and giggly.
PV saves everything. We go back to that IM from time to time, squint one-eyed and laugh at ourselves, at how little we knew.
Turns out we wrote "Licked to Death," the fabulous farsical XF/TS xo, not three days after we met. we were already cracking each other up. We were already in fits of brilliant hysteria. We wrote the thing live, over IM, had the dubious distinction of using a canape in a story when we had no idea what a canape was.
Later. and YV and so on. guess I didn't really know her when she came to LA that first time and we went out with C and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mischa because we were broke and all the big kids were eating fancy food and we just wanted french fries and beer. The rest is a bit of a blur. To qowf's place for "Requiem" and I harassed PV for weeks to get plane tickets and then it was too late. I pinged her from (Lucas') room. we made plans. Grabbed Fi and took a roadtrip north, with cameras and crayons and plastic animals. Crashed in hotels and made craft projects with glue.
There's that time we remember, and the world was in whatever flux it was in, the time before two Februarys ago when we'd forgotten how to sleep entirely and would stay up until the birds drove us mad. I was writing "Where Have You Gone, Tom Glavine?" and she was helping and then she came to LA and we took pictures under the Hollywood sign.
Different time zone, now. I remember the first time we couldn't watch TV together. I told her I'd tape it. I didn't. My birds are up way too early, and I've got a job now and this other sort of life. Ta'averen, Maria would say.
But I still itch and clamor for the keyboard, because she's my Punk and we'll wage interstellar war and laugh so hard we cry. wake the cats up, laughing.
I called her from my car in Wyoming: "find me the world's largest swimming pool, will you? I want to stop there on the way to New York."
The good thing -- we all know this, we've been socialized -- about internet relationships is the pretense of solidity over great distances. the fact that we can split town and we're still just as close. Any room with a computer and a phone line and I'm in a bar with my buddies, any city, any country, any hour.
Made it easier to leave LA, last year. because I had all you guys. Because I wasn't going alone. I had my SNK and JW and G and LS and PV, had the YVers coming with me.
Which means we can settle, in a way that I can't settle with SKL, with AWF, with the fleshly folks who correspond solely over sushi and don't tell stories. Not for lack of love, but because the people you turn to are the people who've heard the tale all along -- where catching up means what did you do today. Where chances are they know what you had for dinner, know when you're on your period, know what cd's in your player.
Because PV knows me better than most people, senses, intuits. because we're too much alike and it freaks people out. Because we're completely different and can handle that too. Because she's fierce and political and quick and brilliant and funny and grouchy and shy. Because she's lived in my room for three years, a click away.
Hard to keep up long distance with the fleshly folks, and not necessarily necessary to try.
But I've been spoiled, because 3000 miles away, PV's still the best of all of us. because we talked tonight and it was good and it was okay and I remembered, as if I'd forgotten, why I can't lose these people. why I'm so damned lucky.
course I was new to XF then, and she was the shit, the best of the best. And she was so mysterious, I had no idea how old she was, didn't know her real name...screwed up the courage to trade IM names and we chatted all night, all distant and polite and strange and giggly.
PV saves everything. We go back to that IM from time to time, squint one-eyed and laugh at ourselves, at how little we knew.
Turns out we wrote "Licked to Death," the fabulous farsical XF/TS xo, not three days after we met. we were already cracking each other up. We were already in fits of brilliant hysteria. We wrote the thing live, over IM, had the dubious distinction of using a canape in a story when we had no idea what a canape was.
Later. and YV and so on. guess I didn't really know her when she came to LA that first time and we went out with C and
mischa because we were broke and all the big kids were eating fancy food and we just wanted french fries and beer. The rest is a bit of a blur. To qowf's place for "Requiem" and I harassed PV for weeks to get plane tickets and then it was too late. I pinged her from (Lucas') room. we made plans. Grabbed Fi and took a roadtrip north, with cameras and crayons and plastic animals. Crashed in hotels and made craft projects with glue. There's that time we remember, and the world was in whatever flux it was in, the time before two Februarys ago when we'd forgotten how to sleep entirely and would stay up until the birds drove us mad. I was writing "Where Have You Gone, Tom Glavine?" and she was helping and then she came to LA and we took pictures under the Hollywood sign.
Different time zone, now. I remember the first time we couldn't watch TV together. I told her I'd tape it. I didn't. My birds are up way too early, and I've got a job now and this other sort of life. Ta'averen, Maria would say.
But I still itch and clamor for the keyboard, because she's my Punk and we'll wage interstellar war and laugh so hard we cry. wake the cats up, laughing.
I called her from my car in Wyoming: "find me the world's largest swimming pool, will you? I want to stop there on the way to New York."
The good thing -- we all know this, we've been socialized -- about internet relationships is the pretense of solidity over great distances. the fact that we can split town and we're still just as close. Any room with a computer and a phone line and I'm in a bar with my buddies, any city, any country, any hour.
Made it easier to leave LA, last year. because I had all you guys. Because I wasn't going alone. I had my SNK and JW and G and LS and PV, had the YVers coming with me.
Which means we can settle, in a way that I can't settle with SKL, with AWF, with the fleshly folks who correspond solely over sushi and don't tell stories. Not for lack of love, but because the people you turn to are the people who've heard the tale all along -- where catching up means what did you do today. Where chances are they know what you had for dinner, know when you're on your period, know what cd's in your player.
Because PV knows me better than most people, senses, intuits. because we're too much alike and it freaks people out. Because we're completely different and can handle that too. Because she's fierce and political and quick and brilliant and funny and grouchy and shy. Because she's lived in my room for three years, a click away.
Hard to keep up long distance with the fleshly folks, and not necessarily necessary to try.
But I've been spoiled, because 3000 miles away, PV's still the best of all of us. because we talked tonight and it was good and it was okay and I remembered, as if I'd forgotten, why I can't lose these people. why I'm so damned lucky.
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no subject
Date: 2002-06-07 08:51 am (UTC)We are so very lucky. And to think we all met one another over a TV show and our secret, shameful writing hobby.