evocative.: 2006

Who I'd Like To Meet:

criteria: male [no physical preference]; first & foremost- must be a proficient in spelling/writing; college attendance is mandatory; intellect must exceed par [according to my discretion]; must have a genuinely positive outlook on atleast 90% of life; must have the capacity to love unconditionally [for my sake]; must practice unfeigned forgiveness [once again, for my sake]; must be passionate in everything accomplished, from the most trivial tasks to those held in higher regard; must be generous; must give comfortable hugs; must not be discouraging, judgmental and/or shallow; must be respectful, to self as well as others; must have refined taste in the arts [thus including history, music, film, & literature]; must cherish time and company over material wealth, yet must strive for financial stability.

i know you're out there, somewhere... & until found, i refuse settle for anyone less.

its not that i think highly of myself... i just don't want to compromise what i know will make me happy.
i respect myself enough to not waste my time on silly boys. its about time i grew up- and by setting higher standards in those i date, i am hopefully allowing myself to do so.

i know i'm going places & need someone who shares this quality.

[fiction assignment for C.W.class]

Home: the city of Richmond, known for its soaring crime rate, lush history, an urban landscape decorated by cyclists and pedestrians alike, and diversity: gorgeous, gorgeous buildings, covered block-to-block, inhabitants alternating drastically between contemporary yuppies on one street, an obvious drug infestation on the next. Cracked and flaking from layers and layers of paint, coated as desperate attempts to rejuvenate the place, frayed by weather damage and previous poor ownership is where he resides. Ankles scarred with bike grease, jean shorts, cutoff at mid-thigh, an extremely elaborate camera case strapped across his chest, and solid chrome Bianchi track bike in hands, he races down the apartment staircase, hops out the door and onto the cycle.

“Fabulous,” he thought, well aware of the time, floating through the Fan District, in and out of pedestrians, riding through his playground: Hell Block, West Grace. The ting-ting, th-th-th-th-th-th sound of the chain, switching gears, a familiar tune in which he’d always found comfort, hummed along the thu-thump, thu-thump of sidewalk tiles until coasting to a halt. Locking his chrome beloved to the bike rack and charging up yet another set of stairs, he weighed the odds in his head of what would happen if anyone notices his belated attendance.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Dane Privett-tuh.”
The words of his Animation professor rang throughout the classroom. He was a stout man with frizzy gray hair. He always wore the same pair of ratty, ill-fitting jeans, which were supposed to hang at his middle, but in rebellion, always slipped down to under his roly-poly belly, barely tucked away by a faded brown leather belt. The tail of his shimmering green shirt poked out, and what made his ensemble even more interesting was the fact that it was buttoned wrong, off by one button, starting at the one second to the top next to the collar, which was also unkept.

“Crap,” Dane thought, catching his breath, collapsing into an empty desk.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, young sir. I’m wearing my favorite pair of striped socks.”
In art school, such peculiar words as these go unnoticed. A girl with long, shiny brown curled hair sitting behind Dane reached forward and sweetly scratched his back.

“Hey,” she whispered. Dane looked back and smiled.
“Where’ve you been? I called you earlier, and you didn’t pick up your phone,” said the girl; her arm was recoiling comfortably into her lap from Dane’s back.
“I was on EBay, and I had to sit around so I could bid on something.” The girl laughed.
“Oh my goodness… Are you serious? What’d’ya get?” the girl closed her mouth and hinted a smile.
“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
Dane refocused his attention toward the eccentric professor, who was enthusiastically alluding to Tim Burton’s animation techniques with a student in the front of the class.

3 o’clock turned into 4, and likewise with 5, and students started gathering their things and softly conversing in what sounded like a droning murmur, in several voice pitches. Dane was already standing outside the door as the girl with the bouncing brown hair exited the room.

“Julie!” Dane looked up as she was walking away from his location.
“Oh, hey! I was wondering why you hadn’t waited for me," she nudged his chest with her elbow.
Exchanging laughter, they walked, holding hands and books until reaching the rusty bike rack where several other classmates were also gathered. Julie walks to Animation class, leaving her bike in her dorm room and choosing to rarely use it- apart from getting to and from Figure Drawing class, which is found on the other side of campus, so this was where they always parted ways.

“Let’s go for a bike ride tonight around sunset.”
“I guess Traci could use some fresh air.” Traci was what Julie had named her bicycle.
“Really? You’re interested?”
Dane’s expression of surprise made Julie literally spin, her skirt floating up, hands swishing the cloth downward as she hunched over, locks of curly brown hair dripped across her face from the momentum of her spin, a smile beaming at him.

“Of course! We’ll go down to the wharf, over by River City Diner?”
“Sounds awesome.”

Dane unclipped his keys from his side belt loop and unlocked his bicycle from the rack. Clink- Clink, th-th-th-th-th-th, once again, the chain humming that same familiar song as he listened. Julie turned back to blow a kiss as Dane playfully caught it and ate it, but didn’t just eat it- he devoured it, as he wiped his left arm over his mouth, licking his fingers, one by one, then waving good bye. She laughed hysterically, smiling ear-to-ear, spinning once then continuing her coy strut towards the West Grace Dorms, still giggling, hair swishing side to side as she cuddled her books close to her chest.

Bzz Bzz, eight or so blocks from the Art School campus, Julie stood patiently on the porch of address 1971, annoyingly pushing the doorbell button, waiting for Dane to rush downstairs, bike in hand. Greeting her with a soft kiss on the lips, Julie could not hold back yet another smile.

“You ready?”
“I guess. I think Traci’s mad at me- I had to dust her off before riding here.”
Julie mounted her bicycle and straddled Traci on tip-toes.
“She’ll forgive you after tonight, I’m sure.”
Dane smiled and hopped on his bike.

Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, after coasting for half a block on the sidewalk, the couple turned right on Monument Avenue, rich in beautiful architecture and historic metropolitan housing. Taking a left past Belvedere with Cary Street as their destination, murals and graffiti-covered small business buildings provided a surreal scenery as the two young students cycled thu-thump, thu-thump with the occasional bump-BUMP on new pavement or breaks in the sidewalk. The sun began to set, allowing for a truly magnificent glow on the city, giving even the most rundown apartments a sense of redemption in their midst of poverty. Th-th-th-th-th-th- the simultaneous sound of the bicycles echoed while passing hollow alleys, probably serving as a nuisance to the homeless who dwelled within them. The steep hill approaching Cary Street was almost a gift, a friendly reminder of the location, permitting the legs of cyclists to rest for a brief moment before having to pedal once again. Left on Cary, past River City Diner as well as several vacant night clubs preparing themselves for the late hours approaching, was the river. The old bridge which had once connected West End Richmond with the Southside had been the victim of explosives during the Civil War and was now a peaceful place where time seemed to physically slow down to a near halt, an ideal place for reflection. Th-th-th-th-th-th-th the chains slowed down and Julie propped up her kickstand on the ground as Dane found a smooth area to set his bike down. By the time Dane had dealt with his bike, Julie had already slipped off her shoes and was found sitting barefoot at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the rippling brown-green ribbons of water below. The sun’s glow was more vibrant than ever as it kissed the sky, just before retiring for the night. Dane sat beside Julie in long, uninterrupted silence.

“Do you love me?”
The wind blew a warm giant puff of air which naturally pushed her hair away from her face.
“Nope, not one bit.”
Dane’s eyebrows lifted and he stared at her, straight-faced. He then couldn’t help but laugh as he inched away from Julie, whose eyes grew wide, her mouth open, half smiling, the other half waiting for Dane to finish answering her question. There was a reserved pause.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Fully satisfied with Dane’s further response, she stared down at the moving water, along the dirty fading yellow-white horizon. Her skirt floated between her legs with the breeze as her feet bounced along the side of the old bridge, accidentally disrupting pieces of brick with her heels, then watching the particles fall helplessly into the calm, streaming water, ten feet below. Back, forth, back, forth, back, she kicked her feet as she humbled herself in comfortable silence. Dane wrapped both his arms around her, closing his eyes, absorbing all that she was.

“I love you.”

Julie bit her lower lip and cocked her head away from Dane, finding a few tiny orange and gray cement pebbles to focus on as he spoke, her eyes smiling and thoughtful, listening.

“I love you very, very, very much. You’re my Jules… and I love you.”

His words were sincere- simple in diction, far deeper in meaning. Julie grabbed Dane’s hand, the sun dipping lower and lower into the smoggy horizon with every moment. She laced her fingers between his and propped her head on his shoulder, holding him closer.

“I love you too, Dane.”

Early Friday morning, a large brown UPS truck parked itself outside of Dane’s apartment complex. Bzz-bzz, the doorbell hardly ever rang in the apartment, especially at such an hour, so it took Dane a few seconds to completely wake up and realize there was someone at the door.
Bzz-bzz, still pulling his pants half on, Dane stumbled as swiftly as he could down the stairs and to the door. A man in a sharp brown mail uniform wearing shiny, trendy Oakley sunglasses handed him a clipboard in which he initialed his name, then exchanging the signature for a cardboard box. The package was small, a five-inch square covered in thick, clear package tape, barely big enough to hold just enough stamps for mailing. Recognizing the box’s significance, Dane ran upstairs back to his apartment to open the tiny parcel.

Locking the door behind him, he paced down the hallway into the kitchen, where he used one of his stainless steel “fancy knives,” as Julie called them, to rip apart the dense layers of package tape and bubble wrap. Inside the cardboard cube was a tiny purple velvet box. Dane stroked the fuzzy box with the inside of his right hand and smiled eagerly, walking over to the window to turn the Air Conditioning unit on for the day. In the subtle natural light beside the kitchen window Dane opened the box, his heart pounding in his chest about everything this object in the box would affect. The box snapped open and inside, cushioned softly around a velvet pillow, was a dainty white gold ring, adorned asymmetrically with black pearls and carved swirls which shined as he tilted the box in several poses, with an unrivaled gleaming diamond, centered to perfection. Chills ran up Dane’s arms, his stomach melting with butterflies fluttering unceasingly, escaping into other parts of his body, giving him goose bumps.

“I hope you like it,” he thought aloud.

The wood floor creaked in the hallway as Dane held the box in hand, walking back to his room. Placing the box on his nightstand, he tucked himself back into the sheets of his bed and under the comforter, where he returned to sleep, regardless of daylight. There were never any classes on Fridays, so oversleeping was obsolete.

The natural light of the sun had disappeared from the kitchen window almost completely by the time Dane finally awoke. Chirping birds calling out their goodnights flew homeward bound, swooping outside the apartment complex, in the mature trees across the street. Dane scuffled into the kitchen, casually opening the refrigerator, dissatisfied with the selection of flavored icy pops, Monterey jack cheese, frozen salmon, and Gatorade. He picked up the phone and dialed Julie’s number.

“Hey.”
“Good evening! I haven’t heard from you all day.”
“Yeah. I’ve been asleep.”
“Huh. All day?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
There was a pause.
“So, what are you up to tonight?”
“I was hoping to maybe take a walk with you down Monument or something.”
It was rare that Dane would walk anywhere. This suggestion excited Julie.
“Yeah, I’d really, really like that, a lot. Let’s do that.”
“Alright then. Go get pretty, I mean, prettier than you always are… I mean..”
Julie laughed.
“I know what you mean. I’ll call you when I get to your place, K?”
“Sounds good.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Jules.”

It was quarter to eight when she finally called Dane’s phone to announce her arrival. She was almost to his door step, so he hurriedly buttoned up the last button of his collared shirt, tucked in its tails, fastened his belt, and snatched the purple velvet box from his room. He’d barely stepped out of his apartment door when he peered down the stairs at Julie, standing outside, patiently waiting, flawless in appearance. She looked amazing.

“Alright,” Dane thought to himself, feeling around the little box in the pocket of his slacks, and with a boost of confidence, he spoke aloud, “Tonight’s it.”

The door squeaked open and there she was, smiling... as always.
“Hey, handsome.”
“Hey, beautiful.”

Their hands met without question and they started walking. Traffic on Monument was busy, but the houses were still the same. Julie’s favorite house was the brick duplex with the German-looking windows and the big, fluffy black dog that always sat on the marble front porch. She’d once tried to pet the dog, but he'd gotten up and slothfully waltzed in the other direction... but nonetheless, she adored the house. Slowly walking quietly down the avenue, Dane suggested that they sit in triangular park between streets, and of course, Julie followed along, They compromised on a weathered bench between the worn set of swings and two omniscient birch trees.

“Tonight’s pretty,” Julie said and she tilted her head back, staring at the stars.
“You’re prettier,” replied Dane.
Julie’s head motioned downward and turned towards him.
“Hush your mouth. Stars are far prettier than me,” Julie spoke as whimsical as a faerie.
“Well, I assure you that you’re far prettier than any star I’ve ever seen. I mean, stars don’t have pretty eyes. Your pretty eyes have stars, though.” He stared at her, smiling while his vacant hand fiddled around with the box in his pocket, just waiting for the right moment.
“I wonder how long stars live for.”
“Not as long as I’ll love you, I’ll bet.” Dane was setting up his aura.
“Really?” Her heart melted. Julie loved hearing Dane say the L-word.

“I promise.”

Dane’s hand had a firm grip on that purple box and he started to shimmy it out of his pocket as unnoticeably as he could, but failed.

“What’s that?” Julie was simply curious.

Dane’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute as his body stood from the bench and proceeded to kneel beside her subconsciously. Julie’s eyes flooded with warm tears. She was scared and excited and was completely unfamiliar with all the sudden emotions affiliated with his posture.

“Julie, I love you so much.”
Dane grabbed her hands from off her face, exposing her tears. The muscles in her mouth forced her entire face to seize up, hindering her from all speech.

“I want to ask you a question.”

Julie’s head nodded furiously as her right hand slipped from Dane’s grasp and wiped her tears, covering her mouth and nose. Dane was smiling; his eyes glistened in the artificial light of the street lamp beside the park, he snapped open the box and held it in front of her tear-clouded vision.

“Will you marry me?”