I just got off of the phone with one of Josh’s coworkers. “I’m sure he works hard,” I said.
“Oh yeah, there’s lots of beeping (sound of a book being uploaded) Thing is, he’s really fun to bother.”
“Oh yeah. This is the crux of our relationship, I think.” (Remember stocking books together? Remember me standing behind the shelves where you were honest-to-god trying to get something accomplished and I was just pushing books off of the shelf to the floor at your feet? Remember how I got your phone number? I should be careful when I casually say that I am going to marry someone I work with. I just might marry them after all.)
I’m about to make dinner and I put on this documentary about the Buddha. Josh tells me that he watched it already.
“But, you didn’t tell me anything about it, so I am going to watch it anyway.”
I frown at what I’m making: fried tilapia and whole wheat cous cous? Everything is brown, plus I hate cooking anymore. I mean, I don’t want to clean up or cook or eat or anything. This needs a vegetable. I opt for sauteed onions which are also brown. I frown at the tomatoes and don’t feel like chopping them up. I forget that we have fresh basil.
I crack up.
“Oh, I just forgot what a spoiled brat the Buddha was. Like, it’s a lesson not to shelter our children or they will rebel against us by starving themselves under trees, imagining shit.”
“Plus, he was a deadbeat dad,” Josh offers.
“Oh right. Doesn’t he escape through a window after his wife has a baby? I mean, it’s so pompous. ‘There is suffering in the world. I’m in shock. We’re all going to die! I am going to handle this information by wandering around pretending to be poor and starving.'”
“Yeah, he’s like a trustfund Deadhead.”
HAHAHAHAHAHA! Josh wins at funny remarks.
We’re in our room, later. Talking about the blog post about loving every dude that I made.
“That was such a random list, you haven’t talked about John Frusciante in years.”
“Well, yeah. He’s one of the every dudes that I love, though.”
Thus ensued a night of watching documentaries about John Frusciante. Or, well, one about him and one Red Hot Chili Peppers Behind the Music. The one about him was made by Johnny Depp and Gibby Haynes and just showed the supposedly squalid conditions he subjected himself to after quitting the Chili Peppers. It didn’t seem so bad to me. It was like, a dude lived alone in a kind of big house and just left shit everywhere and wrote on the walls. One of the walls had the word “butt” on it. There was a big blood splatter in the bathroom. His songs are harrowing and stuff, except I like them so that part didn’t bother me either.
“Here is everything I know about the nineties,” I say. “Johnny Depp and Gibby Haynes were in a band together and the first song on the cd was a cover of a Daniel Johnston song. Their band was called ‘P’.”
During the Chili Peppers behind the music, I made a pronouncement. “This show is going to be about how the Chili Peppers were obnoxious and stupid until they got John Frusciante and then he saved them by giving them soul and melodies. Then, he quit in disgust of them. Then, they asked for him back and he saved their band again.”
“Oh god, and it will feature the worst thing ever which was when Dave Navarro was in them and music was their Aeroplane.”
We deduced that the reason that John Frusciante was driven to the edge of his mind with insanity and loathing was, actually, Anthony Kiedis. But, he was too polite to say it explicitly. Everything then made sense. Anthony Kiedis is so repugnant and untalented and probably a pedophile and sometimes he wears overall shorts.
When I watch this clip, where everything I just said becomes true, I ache with love for Frusciante’s lamp.
“But, then the Buddha became a Bodhisatva — a teacher!” I say. I’m at the stage of dinner making where I whirl around the kitchen, exclaiming. “He woke up the people! He woke everyone up! Wake up the people, Josh!”
“I wake both you and Jonah up every day.”
“Were you up late last night wiki-ing George Washington?”
“Yes, cause he was on my list and I said everything he did was amazing and I wanted to make sure it was true. Everything he did was amazing. He was a revolutionary and he was brave and he had red hair.”
“Do you remember when you liked Craig Ferguson?”
“No. Who? The Scottish guy on tv? No.”
“What? How can you not remember this? You talked about it every day.”
“I did not. I didn’t ever like him. I didn’t.”
“I’m actually kind of frightened that you don’t remember it. It’s like someone could say to you, one day, ‘Remember Josh Surratt? You had a baby with him.’ and you would have trouble recalling.”
No, silly ass. I remember everything about you.