Once I struck out on my own, I had a vast assortment of menial jobs just as everyone does. I worked in the kitchen of a pizza place, as well as a 50s style burger place that was run by the best boss ever, a tough as nails broad that was no nonsense while at the same time fun to work for and with. she taught me to enjoy work instead of just tolerate it. After that I did the clothing racket at a college clothing store where I had to put on a fake smile and help jocks pick out which "U of whatever" sweatshirt they would look most cool in. I also worked at a few mom and pop movie rental stores, which is how I discovered my true passion: film. I had always enjoyed writing, but once I discovered movies I knew instantly it was the field I wanted to write about. I loved to both hear and tell stories. I loved the art of the storyteller and I fell in love with the movies. one year I spent working at a video store, and had no signs of any social life, I think I stopped counting how many movies I watched at about 1200. That was a good year.
Eventually I made my way out of these jobs and landed a small gig writing for a music magazine. I did interviews, articles, reviews, that sort of thing, and I really liked it. I started taking on more freelance writing jobs, and I finally got to do a few pieces on the cinema, writing movie reviews and interviewing various directors, actors, etc. I always had a soft spot for the people who worked in horror movies. For some unexplained reason, they seemed friendlier, more welcoming, more casual, and loyal. Everyone knew each other and helped each other out. They were the film equivalent of the rap music industry, with everyone helping everyone else to further the genre.
One day Thom called me up to let me know that his roommate had up and left for an acting job on a sitcom in New York, and Thom was having some trouble making the rent on his own. I lived alone in a modest, rodent-infested basement apartment, and the idea of living somewhere aboveground with my best friend seemed rather appealing. I moved in within the week, and became part of a strange communal apartment building known as The Brock. Thom had lived at The Brock for some time, as did a college buddy of mine, Patrick. I was introduced to a slew of characters who lived in the building, all colorful artsy types, and all very nice. We became a small tight-knit community. We had barbecues together, hung out, and watched movies.
Patrick had a girlfriend who had moved in with him just before I moved in with Thom. Her name was Diane Burton. The first night we ever met, Patrick had invited a bunch of us over for movies on a hot summer night. As we all filed in and got comfortable, I was introduced to Diane. She was tall with very unique features, a long face, beautiful eyes, dark hair. She was also dressed up as if she was going out to a four-star restaurant, and the rest of us were in shorts and t-shirts. My first thought of her was 'who does she think she is'? Too fancy for this group, that was for sure. She kept to herself most of the night and didn't socialize much. She seemed like a rich kid at a poor kid's party.
As time passed, and we hung out more, I took a liking to Diane. Once I got to know her and she opened up more, she was quite amiable and surprisingly funny. She was actually very shy, and didn't quite know what to think of Patrick's friends. But Diane and I got along well. We started to hang out as a threesome more, Patrick, Diane, and I. As time passed, we became better acquainted, and found we had quite a bit in common. Eventually we started to hang out with each other on our own, mainly when Patrick was working odd shifts at his job at the plant. We did laundry at the laundromat together, went to movies, listened to music. Over time we became best friends, confidants. It was obsolutely platonic and we were both okay with that.
I can still remember clearly one day when we had gone out to get strawberries at a local farmers market. It was a perfect summer day, with warm air and a soft breeze. It was ideal. After picking up everything we needed, I got back to the car first, and waited by my door for her. I looked back and saw her crossing the parking lot, the sun low in the sky behind her; she was totally unaware that I was watching her. She was relaxed, happy, taking her time strolling in the essence of that beautiful summer's day. A brief glimmer of romance skimmed the surface of my mind. She was a beautiful woman and I cared deeply about her. I quickly snapped out of it and told myself that she was just a close friend and nothing more. Or so I thought.
