we laughed. we cried.

it was better than Cats. mo like we laughed. he cried. i love me my divo.

the boy and i went to the play last night (look at us getting some culture he says to me). for the last two weeks he would ask me all sorts of questions about it. i gave him the deaf ears and dead eyes much to his dismay. whatevs. i didn't want to doperize his expectations of the play.

we're sitting in our seats when a hip hipster couple enters the theatre. as they get closer, my boy is mumbling something on his am frequency. i scrunch my nose. the couple gets closer and the boy is saying out loud, 'hey did you just have an interview at blankety blank (where he happens to work)?" hipster says, yeah. turns out my boy had been sitting behind him during the whole interview. small small world. thankfully this cat got the job (on the spot no less) or it woulda been very awkweirdo for the rest of the evening. for them. not for me. i am oblivious.

the crowd was lively last night. peeps were cracking up left and right. they were getting it. they clapped after every scene. my boy's hands are deceptively heavy like wet laundry. he has this one particular clap that when he's clapping i can feel something shattering in the very core of my ear. or so it seems. heavy hands can't clap for long tho. the hands get winded and have to check their pulse (sike). he says, i have to clap loud. they HAVE to hear how much i appreciate what's going on (divo). i love this. not always in the moment but big picture talking, i'm all over it. i've got words that i'll spit or scribble later. he expresses it right then and there.

certain moments made him lean in close and when he'd sit back he'd have giant wet tears inside of his eyes, just waiting to drop. he sniffled. i wouldn't comfort him right away. partly because that reaction is so pure and insecurities can make them fragile. i didn't want to pop the bubble. i was giving him the space to get all up inside that tear and then tell me all about it later. he knows that chief braveface is only a mask of mine (granted a dope mask with a head dress full of feathers, diva).

he left the play feeling very inspired. not just for the work his friend had just presented but inspired about his own life and the valuable story that it is as well. the elevator doors had just closed as we stepped out of the theatre. we were on the 6th floor. i suggest the stairs. he says, "ooh cool. it'll give us time to talk more."