sdflkhdfdfhjksdf (I didn't do this for any specific reason other than I have no witty title for this)

Hi

I'm actually getting really excited but I have no idea how I'm going to start "Last Place" Phase 2.5

I really like the "It's almost fall" intro but it's harder to prop that up when I'm scooping out so much so I'm not starting it on a school day- I might start it on a weekend. And I might have it start out with explaining the music part because that's a huge part of it. But I want to get into introducing other characters. Hmmm. This is fun.

I might have something up soon but I have to shower and biznat so I'll see what I come up with. This is actually pretty exciting. And I haven't abandoned "Miracle" I've just been making notes.

jaseyayr

So I've Been Thinking..

I might take "Last Place" and rip it apart. Not so it's not the same story but I'm going to be changing things even more. And as I was going through the trivials of my boring life I kept thinking about stuff I'd not ever change and things I would.

Untouchable:
-Elisa
-Jonah
-Sunday Drive related stuff
-English Class
-Elisa's parental situation
-Rainie and Paul

Fair Game:
-Bennett Williams
-Cass
-Kerrington
-Amber
-Sean and Becky
-Nathan

I don't want to tell you all of my ideas BUT I think I might spend this vacation whipping up some notes. I'm getting excited again. It's going to be pretty cool. I think I won't tell anyone either. I might just whip out a couple chapters and have it all completely changed. That'd eff eveyone up haha :P

jase-E ray

Honest Questions-

1. How would you feel if I went back into "Last Place" and changed a few character's appearences?

2. How would you feel if I took "Last Place" and completely ripped it apart and started over?

3. How would you feel if I attempted to take on two writing projects at once?

4. How would you feel if I started thinking about all of this?

update: I really want glasses- but that's irrelevant

Hi

So, I bought a copy of Oasis' record "(What's the Story) Morning Glory?" and even though it came without a case I'm listening to it for the first time. It's one of my favorite all time records but it's so hard to actually pick my favorite records but I know it's up there.

Posted a new update after saving $100 by getting rid of my fourth computer virus in a month. So stoked. I'm a wizard. I'm writing the next chapter (Friday Night) no idea what to do with them because I have a really good idea I'm looking forward to writing for them. But I'm going to have to introduce a huge part of their relationship.

I'm going to just come out and say it: if you haven't noticed: I'm recycling "Last Place"and "Perfect Kisses." It's something I do a lot with new stories. I hope you don't get upset or bored but it's what happens with me. Here are some things I noticed while re-reading/writing:
-Lace's favorite band is (in "Miracle")/was (in the Nick/Lace story)
-Nick is a lot like Jonah
-Lace has a huge house (like Mr. Spinella)
-Emily looked a lot like Rainie (until yesterday when I saw a girl and my image of Emily changed)

I won't put in any spoilers here but there is going to be a huge one coming up.

Best prepare yourself.

Jasey Ray

Dug this out of my old notes: Emily's first emergence in the story.

Nick's POV

I mean, a lot of kids think that they're in love when they really aren't. It's the kids who don't think they're in love that really do fall in love. I've told a lot of girls I've loved them, because to a point you really do love them all. That love goes away because you move on from it all. The reason I'm saying all this when you probably expect me to go on and on about Lace's life is because I'm really jealous of him. Not just, you know, he's cool and everything and I wish I was just like him. But because he never really realizes how lucky he was.

Her name was Emily- Em, we called her. I met her one random night when we had a party. It took me a little while but once Lace and her met I figured it out long before they did. They talked so much that night. The whole night they talked. I wasn't sitting there when they were, but I wish I had because when we talk about Em, he always says how perfect that conversation was.

Em was a one in a million. She was grogeous, she was smart, and she was just in time. When he's tired sometimes he'll tell me about her. I like hearing about him and Em. He's not bull-shitting anything when it comes to her and she did the same from the start. If there is such a thing as love when you're eighteen, Lace and Em have found it.

I don't wait for some hot chick to come down the street asking me for the time or something. I'm just waiting for my Emily. I don't tell Lace how jealous I am of his stories. He talks about the nights where they snuck out and sat by the lakes in the summer and talked until the sun started rising. He talks about how he gets this weird feeling of weakness when he thinks about her.

I look forward to all of that. But I'm trusting that Lace isn't bull-shitting me. I know he isn't. Because what he has with Em is always so real. * **** **** **** ******* ** ****, ****** **** ***** ********* ******* ***'* ****** ** ******* ****** *** ******.

Nick's POV ------- School: More on Mr. Ocley

When the bell rang Lace got up. "Do you need a ride today?" He asked me. He slung his back pack over his shoulder and looked at me waiting. I finished my sentence before looking up. "No," I said. "It's cool, my mum'll drive me anyways."

He nodded. "I'll talk to you later," He said. "Is you mom working tonight?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm ordering a pizza, do you want to come over? It's just going to be me and David." I don't just invite people over to my house hwne my parents aren't home. Because all of my friends generally have money, they barely come over. Not because I'm ashamed of anything. I mean, they come shopping with me sometimes just to buy clothes like me every once in a while. They think I dress like the shit- that's why. I mean, I am quite the fashionista- but Lace is the only one that probably knows where I live.

Now I guess that's because my neighborhood is fucking a hundred years old. Swear to God they probably think nobody even lives in my neighborhood because the houses are all older than they are. But that's not really why- at least I hope it's not why because I didn't think my friends were that dumb. Sometimes I guess I just like keeping things simple. I don't need them knowing all about David. They'd all be dicks to him if I brought them over. I don't need them walking around and looking at my house like it was a third world country they didn't know existed.

I like my house being my house.

I'm a simple guy, I guess.

"Sure," He said. "I'll come over once I drop Em off."

I smile at him. "You didn't tell me Emily the Poet was stealing you away," I said. Ocley comes over sitting at his desk and shuffles papers.

"What about Emily Dickenson?" He asks. I look over at Ocley. He has to be around thirty now. He cut his beard last night and it's short again. He looks at us waiting. I look at Lace and wait.

He rubs his eye. "No," He says. "It's just this friend of mine."

"A guy named Emily?" Ocley says. "I didn't know we had a new student. I would have remembered if it was a student named Emily." I laugh a little looking back at my paper. I start writing again.

"Emily is a girl," I said focusing. "Not just any girl- but normal public school girl who Lace has been texting the entire class while you gave the class a nice lecture on the corruption of money when introduced to a class system."

"That was a nice lecture wasn't it?" Ocley says looking at me. He puts a clip on the paper in his hands. He looks at Lace. "Now, I'm not saying this because I'm a lot older and wiser than you are, Simon, but it sounds like- now I'm going out on a limb here- but it sounds like you have a girlfriend."

"Nope," I said. "See, Lace doesn't like it when people call Emily his girlfriend. He likes to say they're just friends. Friends who talk on the phone and text and stay up really late talking and ditch their other friends for each other."

"Oh," Ocley says sliding over ot his computer glancing at the screen. "I see."

"Ocley," Lace says. "I can report you right now for busting in questioning my personal life, so can we drop this?"

"No," I said. "He just asked about Emily Dickenson, I'm telling him all about your girlfriend. Come on, dude, this is completely different." I look up at Lace.

He takes out his phone. "I have to go," He says. "I'll see you later."

"See you," I say laughing a little.

"Bye Ocley," Lace says waving.

Ocley looks up from his computer. "Wait, listen to this:" He says. I turn. Ocley only reads e-mails not if they are really good. I wait and Ocley looks at the computer before starting to read. "'Dear Robert Ocley, It has come to my attention that you have been addressing such subjects in your third period English class as Buddhism, sexual encounters and addressing your students in inappropriate ways.'-" He looks at us. "What is wrong with that?"

"Inconsistent parallel construction," I said. "Duh."

Lace laughs. "Wait, the sexual encounters thing," He says. "Was that when you talked to us about what was going on in the novel?"

"No, wait," Ocley says. "It gets better. 'A student reported that you allegedly wrote expletives on the student Conor Simon's essay and attacked him verbally in front of the class.'"

Lace and I burst out laughing. "No way," Lace went over reading over Ocley's shoulder. "It was a joke!"

Lace wrote a paper that was great except for one paragraph. Ocley- as a joke- wrote simply 'P2 sucks' and explained to us what Lace did wrong in class. I thought it was hilarious. I thought about the low son of a bitch who was working to get Ocley fired.

"This is getting annoying," Ocley sighed. "I'm teaching. Is it that horrible?"

I kept writing. "I hate this school," I said. "Scott always talks about how much he hates it here."

Ocley looks at me. "You know a school is terrible when someone's parent- whose never been to it- says it's terrible." He says. He looks back at the e-mail. "I can't wait until I quit. I'm looking for a job at a high school in Philly or Conneticut."

"Go out with a bang," I said. "Get up in front of the school and call Barcphoph's B-S."

"Like I'd stop there," Ocley says under his breath. He shakes his head and Lace starts to walk away.

"I have to get going," He says. "Ocley, I'll have my paper in tomorrow morning. Do you have a free period?"

"Seven," Ocley says. "What do you have?"

"Study," Lace says. "I'll come here then?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Ocley says. "Who do you have for Study?"

"Mrs. Harney," Lace said.

"Alright," He said. "I'll call her tomorrow morning and tell her you'll be here. See you tomorrow,"

"Bye," Lace said he left and I kept writing finishing my essay.

I passed it over to Ocley. "Did you see Hampton reading Bukowksi?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ocley said. "What's up with that?"

"Thinks he's smart," I said. "Any horny guy can read Bukowski in public." We've established that it's only justified if you read Bukowki poetry in public, not 'Ham on Rye.' Especially if you're in high school. But I guess that's how it goes sometimes. People read good authors at the worst possible times.

"Did I tell you?" Ocley said fishing out a red pen. "They're not giving me any Senior classes next year." We make eye contact and my stomach drops.

"What?"

"They're making me teach sophomores," Ocley said. "He knows."

"What the hell?" I said. "Pardon my French."

"It's excused, I teach English." Ocley says. We say this as a joke. Don't think Ocley's a moron or something. He's the smartest person I know. "They have people walk by my classrooms. Kids have been telling me they see him walking by. How ridiculous is all of this?"

I shake my head. "This school is ridiculous," I said. "I'll have Judy tell me if she hears anything about it if it's getting to that. That sucks."

Ocley looks at my paper. He is reading and I watch him. I look out the window and see the woods. I wait for him to say something. "Great thesis," He says. I look back at him. I wait and see him add a comma here and there.

"Are you going to quit this year then?" I asked. Ocley looks up at me and for a second he pauses.

He pauses. "I might," He said. "I can ask to teach a senior course but I'll have to work really hard for it."

I look at him. "Try," I said.

He pauses. "You aren't sick of me yet?"

"No," I said reaching over picking up his folder for our class. "You're the only teach who knows what they're talking about."

"Thank you,"

I didn't say anything. I opened the folder and looked at it. I don't really know why people always thank me when I'm honest with them. It's the truth. The truth will always be the truth. I'm not being nice to make them feel better. Ocley goes back to reading my paper.

Next class we're reviewing "Catcher in the Rye."

"A little JD Salinger? Bold move," I said. "I'll have to slaughter Lace tomorrow I guess."

"Don't be too harsh," Ocley says turning a page. "You don't want to end up wearing a hunting cap."

I smile. "If you quit the day after tomorrow expect a phone call at midnight asking you to let me come sleep in your house," I said.

He laughs. "Tocuhe," He says. He starts reading again.

I don't want my teachers to all be like Ocley. I think if they were like that I'd take him for granted. He's really a cool guy. I start reading into next week's plan. I hope he doesn'ty quit soon. I want to do the stuff coming up in his planner.

Nick's POV ------- Lace's house

The Lieutenant door slammed and I heard Lace make his way into the kitchen. I had taken it upon myself to make food because I was hungry. His footsteps came closer. I cleared off some of the kitchen getting out trash bags and everything. "Hey," He said walking in behind me.

"Hi," I looked over my shoulder. If you've never been to Lace's house, it's hard to get used to once you're they're. It's all fucked up and in your face. The dining room leads to a hallway room and then another dining room. He walked over to the stove and looked at the bacon I had made.

"I didn't know we had bacon." He said. Looking over at me. He stuck his finger into the pancake batter I had made. Lace is one of those breakfast people. He made me appreciate it and all but I haven't eaten anything since the brownies I had last night. "Thanks, honey for making me breakfast... I'm sorry I didn't make love to you last night..." He was kidding. He stuck his finger into his mouth.

I laughed out loud. "It's okay," I said. "I am fucking starving."

Lace can also cook like a bastard. He barbeques and shit and everything. I can only make pancakes. I walked over flipping them over. "So," I said in a more serious way. "You know Perry was just being an asshole last night, right? You didn't have to sleep with-"

"I didn't," He said. I looked at him over my shoulder. He leaned against the counter. He didn't look dissheveled or anything like that. "He was being an asshole though."

"So you an Emily..." I said. "What's up with that?" I felt relief wash over me. Lace takes stuff too personally for his own good. I didn't think he'd just go have sex with some girl he barely knew because he's not like that.

He smiled a little. "She's cool," He said.

"Cool, huh?" I said flipping pancakes again. "As in: she's-a-guy-trapped-in-a-girl's-body cool, or cool." The pancakes were smokign because of the choclate chips but they had dark brown and golden swirls like hurricanes on them. I emptied them onto a nice plate. I had washed down most of the counters already we just had every other room.

"You don't like her, right?" He asked.

I gave him a look. Obviously I didn't like Emily. She had Lace written all over her. Everything she said was like Lace. She was his soul-mate if I ever saw one. He shrugged exhaling scratching his shoulder. He was in love with her. I sighed. "Do you think she's attractive?"

"Yes," He mumbled.

"Was she nice to talk to?"

"Yes,"

"When you kissed her did you feel the Boston pops swirling around in the brain that is now turned into mush and did you see a green light and think: here is my Daisy- I am her Gatsby never her Holden and she's always my Jane?"

"No," He said.

I looked at him. "So she's not what-"

"No," He said. "I didn't kiss her."

"Oh," I said. Then I looked back at my nice little pancakes freshly placed on the pan. I nodded and played with the edges of the circles. The choclate chips were sticking up like rocks in mud. "Just so you know, if you spend over three hours talking to a girl that's probably going to happen."

He laughed quietly. "Thanks," He said. "I've had girlfriends before."

"Yeah, ditzes who blew you and texted you," I said looking at him. "You never had an Emily before."

He gave me a look. "You say this like she's going to change my life," He said. "How do you know I'm even going to see her again?"

"Does she have your cell phone number?" I asked. Oh how little our little knight knew of such a plot. He nodded. "Then you're going to see her in no time. Just keep texting her." I flipped over some more pancakes.

"Dude, I just met her," He said. "Don't make this a big deal."

I looked at him. "Did you see her?" I asked raising my eyebrows. "She's gorgeous. She's funny. She's talkative. She's outgoing. She's smart- I think. She's not ripping her clothes off. She's a keeper."

He gave me a look again. He pushed off of the counter and picked up a piece of bacon popping it into his mouth. "Whatever," He sighed. "Keep telling yourself that."

I hit him with the spatula. "You're so cynical," I said. "Text her."

"No," He said walking away. "Not yet."

Lace is old-fashioned, I guess. He waits for the third date to kiss a girl. He doesn't do anything more until he sees himself with them in three years. When he stops seeing himself with them he starts pulling away. That's when they break up and returns to his life as Sir Lancelot- the cynic. I'm not a romatic but you know, sometimes you have to go out on a limb and assume the girl you meet at a party whose pretty, nice, and made for you is your soul mate.

I have to do that for Lace. And that's okay. That's what I'm here for.