The Jazzy Bahsoun

Life's our oyster and we're gonna suck that bitch down with a champagne chaser.

Behavioral Therapist
MA Developmental Psychology, Columbia
BS Psychobiology/ French, UCLA

Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

Movies to See:
Mission Impossible
Haywire
Shame
A Dangerous Method
Underworld:Awakening

TV Shows to Watch:
Portlandia
The Life & Times of Tim

Book to Read:
Game of Thrones
by George R.R. Martin

Album to Listen to:
The Black Keys
El Camino

Person to Hate:
Newt Gingrich

Group of People to Despise:
Fox & Friends

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Mary's Website

Mary's Blog

Ravi's Blog

Lauren's Blog

Cheryl's LiveJournal

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The Soup

Cracked

Best Week Ever

The Chive

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Cute Overload

Michael Moore's Blog

Joel Stein Columns

Maureen Dowd Columns

Secular Coalition of America

Richard Dawkins

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Machatz Self-Defense

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Japander: See Actors Embarrass Themselves Abroad

Landover Baptist Church: Jesus Loves You Sometimes

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March 2003
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Saturday, January 10, 2004
Piercing Silences
You could know a person for a year, five years, eight years...you always run out of things to talk about. It always happen in a place where you can't escape...like in a car...or prison cell. Today, one of my friends offers to give me a ride home after class. How nice. Anything that gets me out of the MTA is most welcome. So chit chat ensues from the classroom to the lot... a long walk. "So what've you been up to?" "Not much. I went to New York. It was lots of fun." "Oh yeah? I love it there too. I wanna go there soon." SILENCE. That must've lasted us to the lot right? Oh crap we're only at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the class. "So uuh..What classes do you have this quarter?" "I've got math, chem and spanish." "Yeah I've got math, chem, french film and varsity band." "Oh yeah? How's the French course?" "It's cool. We just watch movies and talk about them." "Ah yeah." "Yeah." "*Cough*" "*Cough*" SILENCE. Ok ok almost there. "Man I hate the parking people here. They're demons of the underworld. How'd you get a permit?" "Y'know. Just got one." "Uh huh........Sit down make yourself comfortable." "Heheh alright." "You can have that banana lying there." "No I'm good." We're just pulling out of the lot at this point. And low and behold, TRAFFIC. In LA?? Noooo. "I hate LA traffic." "Yeah it blows." "MMhhmm" SILENCE. During this extended period of silence, several coughs are exchanged as well as rummagings in backpacks and such to seem as if you have something on your mind, not just a boring louse. "So...I talked to Rayan the other day." "Ryan?" "Yeah Rayan." "Ryan Weiss??" "No no Rayan Eshaghian." "Oh oh" "Yeah" "Yeah" Oh my god this is getting bad. At this point we were at Wilshire and Santa Monica. "You can turn left here...It's faster." "Oh ok." "Wilshire's a bitch to drive on at this time." "Yeah I know." Cell phone rings. His. Thank the heavens. "Rabble rabble mumble mumble rabble rabble." "*Cough* *Rummage*" He hangs up. "My mom can be so annoying." "Ah well...It's a living." It's a living? What the hell is that supposed to mean?? Santa Monica and Rodeo. "You know I never know how to pronounce that." "What?" "Rodeo." "What do you mean?" "Like I know it's Ro-dey-o...But on some of the signs there's no accent, so it should be Rodeo." "Hm." "Yeah." Oh god. What the hell am I talking about?? Why am I initiating conversation? Why isn't he? "I like Russian Techno." Oh, that's why. "Yeah yeah me too." I do? Since when? What the hell is Russian Techno. "Here listen." Do I have a choice?...The windows are rattling...my ears hurt...we're driving down Burton Way...blasting Russian Techno...how did I get here? "Yeah this is getting annoying, let me change the cd." "Oh ok." Praise Heysus. My nose is itchy. Crap. The inside of my nose is itchy. I can't scratch it though. What do I do? "So do you keep in touch with anyone?" Oh shit. He decides to engage conversation now. My nose is itching so badly. "Umm y'know...*nose twitch*...Ilana, Rayan....*nose twitch nose twitch*...Jeremy, Ashley..." Oh god I can't take this. It's time for tactical maneuvers. "What's that cd in your door?" "Huh?" He looks down to the door pocket. INVASIVE NOSE SCRATCH. 1. 2. 3. 4. Success! Nose itch evaded. "This one?" "What? Yeah yeah that one." "This is another Russian Techno cd. Let me put it in." Aw for fuck's sake....SANCTUARY. Burton and La Cienega approaches. "Just pull up ahead and veer off into my street." "Okie dokey." The home stretch! I think I scratched my nose too hard. It burns now. Crap. "This building?" "Yep this one...thanks a lot for the ride man...I appreciate it." "Anytime." "See you in class Monday." "Yep see ya." He drives off....He is a good friend and a nice guy, but as in many relationships, as Dr. Phil says, you just run out of shit to talk about. Maybe we're just boring people deep down. In the silence, the ugly, desperate, side of you emerges...The side that says things like, "Did you know that the scientific name for moths is Drosophila?"
3:23 AM
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