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[19 Oct 2009|11:11pm] |
I've been putting off talking about Texas because it's difficult to put what I feel about it succinctly into words. Every time I've tried it's turned into some unwieldy beast of a travelogue, which I don't think does it justice; long, awkward sentences all trying to capture every single moment I spent down there. What was important about Texas was that I felt alive. Far, far away from my, as a great poet put it, "beige existence" of abandonment issues and compulsive masturbation in beautiful Kelowna, British Columbia; this fucking prison that I had never actually thought that I had any place away from.
There was fine dining in gay burger joints which had soap operas on the TV and music that sounded right out of town crawling in Persona 3, there was cheap malt liquor and drunken homoeroticism and underwear parties. Surprisingly, no frottage. There were long trips on the road and Ben's rather circuitous sense of direction driving Fuckhead and Hermit near to insanity. And there was cosplay, with the pretty, pretty boys only overshadowed by the sexy lady in cutoff jean shorts and a tank top. And, lest we forget, there was Arcade UFO; a fucking work of art - they had an honest-to-god Gals Panic machine AND a Neo Geo with motherfucking TWINKLE STAR SPRITES. Oh and a bunch of other games which the kids seem to like, all immaculately cared for, and a hacked DDR machine in which everyone danced the goddamn FFVII boss theme every five minutes, but whatever. We're here for the Twinkle Star Sprites, because Twinkle Star Sprites is a man's game. More on that later.
Oh, and there was sexual tension. Lots of sexual tension, At least for two of us there. Suffocatingly thick, really. Oh dear, I did it again.
What was really there, in a soppy, sentimental sort of way, was love; finally meeting people I've known for longer and more intimately than anyone outside of my immediate family. They offered me a place to go and escape from the miserable place I had found myself trapped in. And, well, the more conventional kind of love, too, the kind of love that gradually forms over many years, gestates on cramped road trips and is abetted by nature herself with a conspiracy of clear nights and a big, bright moon to make sweet admissions underneath. Oh, sure, I wasn't really supposed to do that, and I kind of found myself overstepping into another man's territory, but that is something I have found myself doing far too often in my romantic career. Things have worked out about as well as they possibly could, better than I could have imagined, if a bit unconventionally. Honestly, if you meet an incredibly awesome, beautiful lady who you feel completely comfortable with, who will dress up as motherfuckin' Revy - this is not something you pass up on account of minor logistic issues. Things are awesome, aside from the whole being three-thousand kilometers away - which I will rectify shortly.
Oh, and Twinkle Star Sprites? People, there is nothing better than Twinkle Star Sprites in the arcade, manly spirits clashing over an RGB monitor, sweat and blear and carpal tunnel in the gladiatorial combat of cute little girls and effeminate boys shooting balloon monsters over candy-coloured wonderlands. Have you ever faced off against the boyfriend of the woman you find yourself in love with in the arena of Twinkle Star Sprites? Imagine great elk charging their immense frames forward and clashing their antlers together with a mighty crash. Except the great elk are two nerdy dudes. And our antlers are our lollipop joysticks, and our clashing together is through the medium of pastel-coloured shoujo fantasy, and the mighty crash is trash talk such as "Don't hate the cosplayer, hate the Alice Game~". Yes.
By the way, I was totally dominating. Hermit was the only one who could consistently beat me, oh ho. Brooke did beat me once, too, which was awesome. Pro tier, man.
That was Texas. Pro-tier, man.
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