Driving Mr. Larry

I decided I could take a day off today (my first since I got home from vacation) in order to drive Larry-O back to Big City U.

We set out at about 11 AM in light drizzle/ flurries. We had about three hours together in the car, during which he played me music by Buckethead (the apparently famous "Jordan"), Killswitch Engage (the eerie "My Curse") and even Scorpion (to which music, if memory serves, I may have actually danced. In a club. BC. [Before Children]).

I contributed the sedate (by comparison) Dave Matthews album "Crash" (notice I still call them albums? I am o-o-o-o-ld). Larry approved. We had a free-wheeling conversation which included, among other items:

• His and his sister's assessment of my ex's girlfriend.
• Our concurrence that Dave Matthews sings most appealingly about sex.
• His sharing his anxieties about this semester, which he is "dreading" (owing to the fact that, he had a not-so-good semester in the fall, in his elective classes. The acting: great. The attending economics lectures: not so great).
• His describing being "sexiled" (def: made to sleep elsewhere than his room because his roommate's girlfriend is visiting).
• His plans for how he will take care of himself this semester (vague).
• His feelings on religion (not so great... though he appreciates that having grown up with a mother in the religious field has given him a good grounding in scripture, which is extremely useful when interpreting, say, Shakespeare).

I was left feeling sad when I dropped him off. (Literally, he took his stuff and disappeared and I hit the highway again, in order to be home with Petra this evening.) I feel him struggling, I feel his alienation. I wished so badly he were a toddler whom I could hold in my lap and reassure. All I could say was "We love you. Be good to yourself. Be at peace. You can do it." I hope he could hear me.

Photo: A blurry Larry in scenes from "Equus" last semester.