Another One

Suddenly - the world is different.

When I was in high school, I was a hiding raging hormonal gay kid. I had a girlfriend. Or two. None of which, I got very far with. But, really. In my heart of hearts, I had crushes on a few of my friends. Especially one. He was one of my really good friends. In my 12th Grade AP English class we did our projects together. I got to go to his house and work creatively with him. It was really fucking fun times.

My 12th grade English teacher was a real bitch. She made our class do all these strange, 4th grade assignments. Like making a "gossip" magazine for Hamlet. ... Yes. A fucking long ass assignment that had us doing crosswords, gossip columns, advice columns, feature stories, advertisments, etc.

In 12th Grade AP English. College credit.

We did ours, coloring in things and writing gossip columns together. It was as gay as it was going to get.

In 1999, P.T. Anderson's masterpiece "Magnolia" came out. I wanted to see it really fucking bad. I had a huge hard on for P.T. Anderson movies. And this one was going to be so amazing my brain might have melted. I invited my friend to come and see it with me. Told him how funny it would be - and amazing.

He said cool.

When I got to his house to pick him up, he came to the door without a shirt on. I'm sure he didn't give a shit, because - well, I was straight. He was a wrestler.

I was so fucking gay.

I waited downstairs while he finished getting dressed and his Mom came in. Shit, I met his Mom... fuck.

I feel so sad. The world is so fucked up.

I met his Mom who asked what we were going to see. Magnolia. "Isn't that a chick flick?" Haha. "No, it's by this filmmaker, P.T. Anderson who did Boogie Nights." "Isn't that the one about the guy with a big dick?"

I wasn't going to win.

He came down and we left. And saw the movie. Amazing on the big screen. Amazing.

A lady behind us, didn't get it and asked us if we liked it. I told her it was amazing. My friend said it was crazy. I brought him to better cinema. I felt so amazing. It was the best night I ever had in high school. Another time, I sat in his room and he was telling me how much he loved Pearl Jam. I didn't know much past their singles. (I began listening to them a lot more after that - but still didn't really care too much for 'em.)

He told me he got into West Point. Awesome. "Don't you have to do like square meals there?" "Not if you're captain of a sports team." He was captain of the wrestling team.

A few years later. He popped up on IM. We talked a few and he called me. He told me what crazy times he's had. He took a trip to Europe with a buddy and said how he ran around Rome being chased by the cops, hookers and the such. How drunk he got and wild he was.

He wanted me to come up and visit him in Atlanta. I wanted to so fucking bad and if I had money and a better car, I would have. Anything for him. He disappeared again. I wanted to see him, but he disappeared.

A few years later, I found him on MySpace. He had 2 friends. I quickly scanned down to the stats. NOT SURE. Under orientation. What did that mean!?

Is he - unsure of his sexuality? Did he LIKE me?! If I saw him in Atlanta? Would that have meant?
No. On Facebook - he's straight. And boy did the ladies love him. He also never friended me. Which I thought odd. I however, wrote that I'm Gay on my profile. Fuck. He disappeared again.

Occasionally, he signed on IM. But, he never IMed me before and I didn't want to seem - stalkerish. As much as I wanted too. I hate crushing on people - especially straight guys.

A few months ago, I found out another friend of mine from high school - WAS gay. How crazy! I never suspected this guy. We talked here and there since.

He called me a few days ago, my new gay high school friend. He called to tell me some bad news.

ON NOVEMBER 12th
HE WAS KILLED BY A ROADSIDE BOMB IN IRAQ.

the world is hateful.


This is days after hearing that my dear friend Sam died. How so, does this work? And why? I've never had anyone in my life, that I knew. That I talked to - die. I'll never get a chance to tell him that I liked him. And never get a chance to have him say - thanks but no thanks.

I'll never get a chance to see him again. As a friend. And, fuck, he can't see his family anymore. Or his fucking girlfriends. He's never going to fucking run the streets of Rome.

The universe of tomorrow is haunting. I revisited his MySpace - post. He has lots of friends now. And pictures of him in Iraq. Covered in gear. Armor. Goddamn it.

A recent picture of him. The same fucker I knew in high school. He never friended me on MySpace. And so, I'm left an outsider. He was a great person. Who lived his life the way he wanted. He was proud to be there. He was proud to be an American.

In his hero's list he writes - THE AMERICAN SOLDIER.

Fuck man, I complain about not being able to pay my bills and he's over in a fucking horrible state - fighting for America in a war that shouldn't be fought - for his country. Because he cares about US more than HIM. He died for you and me. He died for us.

And I'm complaining because I can't make my movies yet. I am small.

you were amazing.
Michael Cerrone.