Everyone’s sentences begin with “OK” or “Yeah, so” or “Yo, hey. Yeah, no.”
Laurie Simmons’ daughter goes to her boss at the publishing house or literary agency and explains that she needs money. He fires her. She goes to meet a guy she sleeps with, an a hunky shirtless abusive woodworking actor who hates his parents. He tries to insert his penis into her rectum. She objects. He inserts his penis into her vagina. She talks about how it’s getting dark later. He asks her to stop talking.
Facebook texting Twitter Gchat Gchat Gchat smart phones.
The Drummer from Bad Company’s daughter thinks Laurie Simmons’ daughter should just go back to her parents and explain to them that she is an artist. She fights with Brian Williams’ daughter: “You can’t just mother her like this.” Brian Williams’ daughter and the Drummer from Bad Company’s daughter have a heart to heart while the Drummer from Bad Company’s daughter is on the toilet (shitting?).
Yo hey. Yeah no.
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At least there is first this, this summer, this gauzy idyll with Dan. The two of them playing house, eating waffles, lounging nude by the pool, feeding each other cherries, the blood-red juice dribbling down their chins until it is caught by the other’s tongue. Long nights of getting tangled in the sheets, longer days of lying on the grass, Dan reading aloud from a book, Erik resting his head on Dan’s chest and feeling the warm thrum of his heart. The sun lemony and cozy above them, a soft green breeze whispering through the yard. In the years after, in the many years after, Erik will look back on these few months as perhaps his happiest ever. A time when two people disappeared into each other and created their own universe together. When a house and a person was enough. When the world was simple and uncluttered and impossibly lovely. When a boy named Dan Humphrey would come bounding out of the house onto the porch, carrying a pitcher of lemonade or a bottle of wine and would stop for a brief moment, smiling as he gazed at Erik sitting and waiting, Erik seeing that Dan was as happy as he was. That he too wouldn’t mind letting the rest of the world forget them forever.
But of course the world always finds us, always interferes once more. And then there is college, and then there is… life, I suppose. The rattle and clamor of wheels rolling on drowns out the rush of the ocean, the hollow song of wind chimes, the hush of hot breath on a neck. That’s just what time does. It moves us along and eventually evaporates us — we are but clouds in the sky. We are merely molecules and memory, secrets and skin. As ephemeral as wishes, as fast and as fleeting as gossip.
Happy summers, everyone. Gossip Girl Season Finale: Goodbye Love, Hello Lover, Richard Lawson’s last Gossip Girl recap ever. Not gonna lie: I’m in tears already mourning.