I found him at one of those sleazy 4 am bars. He walked by me and I thought to myself, I want this guy. He had these dark eyes, the kind of eyes I later learn, occurs when you smoke too much pot. Whatever, I tell my best friend. He rolled a cigarette for me, smiled, and I thought, I'm done.

I’m sure he never thought he would be part of my blog, I didn’t either. I didn’t bother to call, or text after the last time I saw him. Sometimes, I can be an asshole like that. I get the feeling he is as well. It could be the entire moving thing, but I would like to take the tough girl role in this one.

He’s moving to South Korea to teach in the next month. A fact that I learned the first night I met him, a fact that I dismissed. So, I have reluctantly avoided him. This last week I have thought about him a little too much. Although, I’ve almost completely forgot some subtle details about him, the way he parts his hair or what the smell of his skin was like. These are details I cared less about, I want the part where we closed down the bar one night, not even realizing it. The fact that each time I saw him, I smiled just a little more.

He could not fathom that I hated The Flaming Lips, like most people do. I think I’ve come to say it because it really makes people irate. He was amused by it. I pushed it too far, because the smile I could get from him made me jump to other great bands. I’ll throw in a little bit of Beatles and let him know that they did not really alter the course of music as we know it. I’ll argue for other bands, like The Rolling Stones.

Nirvana, we agreed upon. In my head I remember thinking he was such a child when Kurt Cobain died. He told me that Nirvana altered the way he thought about music. I told him about my brother sending me Pearl Jam CD’s from California, advising me to stop listening to big hair bands.

I didn’t get to tell him, Frightened Rabbit was in fact a band I had downloaded at some point, but never got around to fully listening to them. He had played them while we shot pool that night, all the while bullshitting about life and his move. I also forgot to tell him, that night, as I stared at the poster above his bed, so many other things. I couldn't focus, I couldn't breathe. I didn’t pay attention to how his fingers wrapped into mine. I was busy watching the continents, mapped out on his wall. I moved them together and moved them apart. I dissected Asia away and pushed it towards me. S. Korea seemed to float, such a lonely little country. So I willed it’s way over to me, across an entire continent and landed it safely in Lake Michigan. He didn’t notice my eyes, even when he pushed the hair away from them, he couldn’t see they were unyielding. They were stationary and set on an Asian jungle, only steps away from North Ave beach.

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