imaginist | ic spam @e.waldinger

[...] I know. He loved you.

[...] Good surprise.

Shut up. I'm extremely drunk. And we're talking about you right now.

Ah. [...] Well, we don't have to talk about me. I should probably leave you alone.

If that's what you want.

I'm just [...] very sober. Doesn't seem fair.

You could come by. Crysta and Parson left a whole bottle of champagne behind.

That is such a bad idea.

I know. But you thought about it for a second.

I'm still thinking about it, but I can be responsible. [...] Can we talk about it sometime when you aren't very drunk?

~~Are you~~ [...] You know where to find me.

I do. [...] Thanks for not ignoring my text, even if it was just the champagne talking.

Fair exchange for you not ignoring my late night texts. Once we're even, I'm putting silence back on the table.

[......] Can we not joke about that, actually?

Alright. Can I ask why?

If you ever need space, that's fine. [...] I just don't want to have to guess at whether you really mean it or not.

Fair enough. I make jokes about things that bother me. But I suppose I can retire overplayed material. [...] I was glad you messaged. I'd rather know what you're thinking than not know.

Yeah, I know you do. You also do experiments on me sometimes.

[...] I'm glad I did too. I almost chickened out.

I do experiments on everyone. Your reactions are just more fun than most people's.

Did Gavin ever tell you about my family's birthday tradition?

~~Well it fucks with my head~~

No. What is it?

My parents kept a running tally of everything we did, good and bad. Or so they claim—I started keeping lists of my own when I was ten, and their assessments never squared with my math. Anyway, when it came time, we'd learn if our achievements and good behaviour had earned us a birthday party that year or not. Crysta did the worst at this. Me, sometimes. Gavin, of course, got one every year. He always did everything right.

So Crysta and I, we started throwing him a... let's call it an anti-birthday party. It started small. We'd give him a present and it was a box with nothing in it. We'd bake the most awful things inside of a cake. As we grew older, it grew more complicated. I'd write coded directions that were near-impossible to solve. Crysta would record him trying to follow them, and in the end, his present would be a video of him looking stupid, edited to music. The most annoying kind of trials, with no reward at the end.

I kind of hate your parents.

Really good plan for being annoying, except you were actually giving him the perfect birthday present.

It's not so bad. After almost thirty years, I'm their favourite now.

I once threatened to never acknowledge his birthday again if he acted happy about what we were doing. So he didn't. [...] We did it today to Parson. And he figured it out. All of our ridiculous clues, our old tricks. It didn't even take him that long.

Speaking of thankless jobs. [...] Crysta was joking about the funeral recently. Was it really bad?

I'm glad you've all been spending time together.

Yes. Not a single funny speech the entire day. [...] There's a reason why you and most of his actual friends weren't invited. They wanted to remember him a particular way.

You don't think it's bizarre? Because I do.

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight

DM, 9/28, pushing midnight