Memoria Page #3

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Nothing.

Just using the bathroom.

Ivan.

I'm worried about you.

Your grades.

You've hardly been in class this semester.

What are you doing

here, Mr. Wyckoff?

All right.

I know growing up can be difficult.

Maybe you don't have someone to talk to.

So I just, I want you to

know that you can talk to me.

Ivan.

I don't want your help.

And I really don't think you

should be here, Mr. Wyckoff.

Ivan.

I'm seriously gonna smoke

weed for the rest of my life.

Every time I smoke, I feel like

I'm, I wanna go back to a place

that I really liked or, like, a

night that I felt really good.

Do you know what I mean?

Do you remember when you and I used to come out

here every day after school?

Yes.

That I do remember.

Man, I wanted to be so good like Alex and Max.

I was always so f***ing afraid of falling.

Did you know I even used to scratch up

the bottom of my board to make

it look like I could do tricks?

...That is so f***, that is so f***ing lame, Ivan.

What the?

Why the f*** would you do that?

Those guys are such d*cks.

You shouldn't care what they think so much.

I don't f***ing care what they think.

Hey.

Hey.

Ivan!

Are you going to Byron's party tonight?

I don't know.

I'm pretty tired.

Come on.

You have to go and say bye to everyone.

All right.

I guess I'll swing by for a little bit.

Maybe you'll finally get laid.

F*** off!

Hey.

Ivan.

Ivan!

So are you stalking me now?

Look.

I just wanted to say, if I

was coming on too strong,

I'm sorry.

I'm just trying to help.

Don't worry about it, man.

I was pretty rude to you.

Just wanna make sure you're gonna be OK.

Yeah.

I'm fine.

Look.

Ah.

Sorry if I haven't really been at class lately.

It's just been tough.

I like the class.

It's just I got a lot on my mind, you know?

Well, maybe you should write about it.

Look.

I know high school can be tough sometimes.

But you're failing my class.

You've only handed in one

assignment all semester.

Yeah.

I know.

I don't know.

I just...

Ivan, you're a creative guy.

You've got a lot to say.

I think you should take advantage of it.

I mean, not everyone has that talent.

Yeah.

Sure.

Listen.

The Berryman project's due Monday.

If you hand this in on time, if you really

try to write what you're feeling,

then I'll let you pass.

And you'll graduate with your friends.

So I'll see ya Monday?

On time?

Sure.

I have this memory of my father taking me

to Mirana Lake to go swimming.

But I can't remember if

this really happened or not.

I keep forgetting if the things

in my memory happened for real.

Maybe our memories are just a collection

of things we wish happened.

Quiet scream is an oxymoron.

Very good.

But I Want the definition.

I wanted to pick the blonde girl up

and take her out somewhere.

We drive off naked, heads

spinning to the beat of windows

smashing, cars crashing in the distance.

We coast along an endless road

between forests and lakes.

The wind smells of pine trees.

Inky black silence.

We devour each other like creatures.

Animals staring back at us.

Down a mountain into nothing.

If she knew what was going through my head,

she'd think I was crazy.

When I turn 18, I want to

get on a bus to San Francisco

and never come back.

I want to be surrounded by millions of people

I've never seen who've never seen me.

I want to be a man who sings

from rooftops, who disappears

into dark, winding streets drowned out

by fading lights and hollow steel.

I want to retrace the footsteps of my father,

get lost in dive bars where I

sit and drink until morning.

A tattooed chick offers me a cigarette.

And I take her home.

She speaks a different language.

Can't pronounce her name.

But I'm in love.

I want to lose my virginity

to a stranger on a dirty bed.

She says she has to go.

And I never see her again.

An old man lives next door to me.

The walls are so thin, I can hear him crying.

I can never figure out why.

It keeps me up at night.

With each passing clay, my memories fade.

Voices become echoes.

And faces disappear.

Hey.

Hey.

Ooh.

Babe.

Babe.

We should do... we

should do taco night.

OK.

We can do that.

I wonder how quickly will my friends forget

me, too.

You OK, Ivan?

Yeah.

I'm fine.

And my dad?

Has he done the same?

Am I only a passing thought to him?

A name he has forgotten?

Or does he feel lonely?

Does he wander aimlessly,

floating past street lights,

wishing he could come home?

I don't want to run from the things I know.

I'm tired of my feet searching

for things I'll never find.

I want to be a man who howls from rooftops, a man

without fear.

$1.99.

You can keep the change.

So get this.

What if your whole life

was, like, on video tapes?

You know what I'm saying?

Like, a bunch of video tapes and when you die,

you go to this room.

And you have to watch all

of the tapes over again.

Nah, man That would suck.

Oh yeah.

'Cause you'd just have to

sit there and watch your whole

life.

And all this sh*t would happen.

And like, you just couldn't

even do anything about it.

Hey, Tyson.

Do you guys wanna go and check out the show?

No.

I'm gonna hit this.

Sticky sticky.

You got it.

Get me a B?

Hey.

Oh.

What's up?

...How do you like the band?

Ah.

They're all right.

Hey.

Can I bum a cigarette?

Yeah.

Dude.

It's so weird to think that we're all moving on.

Pretty soon, we're all gonna

go our own separate ways.

I have a plan.

Yeah?

We should run off and do something fun.

Like What?

I don't know, like, rob a bunch of banks,

live in a mansion, party all

the time, live the dream.

Yeah.

Sounds pretty fun, actually.

And you know why I want you

to be the guy to come with me?

Because I believe in you.

I believe in you!

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Will you f*** me up?

Ivan!

Ivan!

OK, Ivan.

What the f***?

We're friends.

What do you mean, what the f***?

No.

Obviously not.

What are you talking about?

Ivan, I wasn't flirting with you.

You're always leading me on.

...What are you talking about?

That... dude.

This isn't you.

Come on.

You have no f***ing clue who I am.

Are you... OK.

Ivan...

Stop.

Stop!

Stop treating me like I'm your little brother.

OK.

Maybe you're hurt.

But this isn't fair.

You know that right?

F*** you.

F*** you.

You know what?

I do feel sorry for you.

Yeah.

F*** off.

Good luck in whatever it is you do, Ivan.

Whatever, b*tch.

A**hole.

Ivan!

Did you just take my beer?

Nah, man.

This is mine.

No.

This is mine.

Sh*t.

Why don't you f*** off, you fat f***?

Fat f***?

Did you just call me a fat f***?

Yeah.

That's for taking my f***ing beer!

What?

Oh my god.

Ivan?

Ivan.

Ivan!

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