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| The Notebook |
| 09.28.05 (11:16 am) [edit] |
~~My Dearest Allie.
I couldn't sleep last night because I know that it's over between us. I'm not bitter any more, because I know that what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future we see each other in our new lives, I'll smile at you with joy and remember how we spent the summer beneath the trees, learning from each other and growing in love. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever. I love you. I'll be seeing you. Noah~~
Last night I finally sat down and watched the movie “The Notebook” based on a book by Nicholas Sparks. I should have probably read the book first but I am not one for romance movies let alone books. I cried like a baby at the end (without spoiling the movie for anyone else) it was one of the greatest love stories I think I’ve ever seen. I want the book now. I will be making that purchase this weekend I am sure.
I dreamt of riding in the back of a truck. The truck was a tan 87 Ford. I know this because it was the first car I ever drove. In the dream it even had the same dent on the drivers side as mine did when I was 17. We were laying on our backs this girl and I (for some reason it was the dancer). The driver was a young Mexican man who had asked us where we wanted to go. I wanted to drive the dirt roads along the tree lines. She didn’t care as long as we could ride together.
“You should lie down,” she said to me.
“I don’t think so,” I answered as the pickup began its journey.
“Stop being so afraid of things,” she said smiling and she lay back. She intertwined her hands and placed them on her stomach. “You never know what you are going to miss out on.”
I remember watching the road in silence before looking at her again. Her eyes just stared up into the sky. She seemed content just laying there. I finally lay down as the truck started into the tree lines. We lay there watching the sun stream through the branches. I wish I knew how to describe the colors as we drove. We started in spring and ended in the fall. I wish there was a way to describe the stillness that I found in the dream. The driver asked us where we wanted to go from there.
She turned to me and smiled, “What do you think?”
“What ever way it takes the longest to get back,” I answered.
Then my dream changes and I am standing in front of an apartment building. I am on the phone talking to T when Jess walks by. Our eyes meet.
“Hey,” I say still on the line. “Come here.”
She turns to me from the second step and smiles.
“You gonna walk by and just not say hello?” I ask.
She blows me a kiss and walks up the stairs. I hang up the phone and shake my head following her up and into the building. There is a door at the end of the hall that is open and I walk toward. I stand at the doorway looking in. She is standing in her room, arms crossed and smiling.
“Hello,” she says.
I am awake again. It’s 7:30am. It’s Wednesday and I get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about the dream.
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| I dream of |
| 09.26.05 (10:37 am) [edit] |
I dreamt of burning churches Saturday night. I was across the street when I noticed the smoke from the top window but no one stopped.
“My God that church is on fire!” I yelled as I ran across the street. No one seemed to notice. There was a couple with a stroller that just kept on walking.
Outside of the church were a mother and daughter yelling at each other about something that I could not make out.
“You have to get away from here the church is on fire,” I yelled at them.
The older woman turned to me and yelled back, “I can see the fucking church is on fire but I have more important things to do than to worry about the people inside the fucking church right now.”
To which I yelled back, “Well I hope your fucking day gets better than the people that are trapped inside the BURNING church!”
She drops to her knees and starts to cry. The daughter is crying but no one moves. I run to the entrance where there is a hose is too short. I turn it on anyway and somehow I am inside. I stop halfway down the walk way.
“Excuse me father but you have to get these people out because the church is on fire,” I said.
He won’t look up from his bible and the people are looking at me because I am standing there with a hose in my hand and then I look up but I am outside now. The flames are coming from the top windows and then there is nothing but ashes. In my dream I am floating and there is a voice telling me that I will never be able to get the people out of the burning churches.
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| My Dearest Love |
| 09.22.05 (10:56 am) [edit] |
It was with you that I breathed. It was with you that every moment was made beautiful. It was with you that I felt right. It was with you that I dreamed for a future. It was with you that I traveled into myself. It was with you that I was unafraid. It was with you that I was vulnerable. It was with you that I learned what life meant. In those moments when we’d stare at each other from across the room and I got lost in your eyes, I felt that I could not live without you. If you were not by my side I felt alone. There was an emptiness that I could not shake. I needed to see you, feel you next to me. Wrapped in your arms. Drowning in your kisses. Your kisses made of honey. Your kisses that left me wanting more. Your kisses.
I wish I knew how to tell you how much I’ve missed you. I wish I knew how to make you see that I still think of you. I wish every moment that you crawled into my memory I could find a way to send it to you. I wish I knew how to make you hurt less. I wish I knew how to forget those eyes. I wish I knew how to make you remember, just for a second remember.
What is left of the passion I buried in the garden of broken dreams. What is left of the love I threw into the ocean of forgotten hope. What is left of our memories …what is left of our memories?
I wanted to believe that our love was bigger than the pain. I wanted to believe that I would remain something beautiful and untainted by the hands of time but time is a funny thing.
I fell in love with you in 1998. It is 2005. Six years of memories trickling away from me. Six years of tears. Six years of wondering where you are. Six years of imaging someone else holding you. Six years of fearing that day when you’ll call me to tell me that you are getting married. Six years of feeling alone and deserted. Six years of feeling used. Six years is a long time for time to not have his way with a broken heart. Six years is a long time for me continue believe in what we had. Too long.
You were my drug of choice. You were my poison. You are in my blood. You are in my veins.
I wish you wouldn’t call me everything six months. It will always be new. It will be there. I will always break. I’ve been thinking about you less and less. When I have those thoughts it’s not longer you that I kiss, feel, touch. It’s no longer you that I crave and I feel strange not really remembering any of that anymore. It’s not longer you my love. It’s no longer anything.
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| Bazooka Joe |
| 09.20.05 (9:32 am) [edit] |
Someone left a pack of Bazooka Joe bubble gum on my desk this morning. I am now chewing my first piece if Bazooka in years. When I was younger they cost a nickel a piece and I would chase the ice cream truck down (sometimes on my bike, sometimes on foot) when I’d hear that little jingle that most kids can hear from blocks away. I loved the smell of the wrapper and the way the sugar melted in my mouth as I sat on my porch during the summer. I used to collect the little comic book wrapper’s that they came in. I used to believe in the fortune’s at the bottom of the page. I would chew the little piece of gum until my jaw hurt or my mom MADE me spit it out.
Bazooka Joe reminds me of:
-Birthday parties
-Attaching playing cards to the rear wheel of your bike with clothes pin so it would sound
like a motorcycle
-Learning to jump off ramps
-Eating ice cream on the corner
-Water fights
-Playing Guns (our version of violent hide and seek)
-Playing school in the back yard
-Playing “Rock stars” with brooms for guitars and buckets for drums
-Playing with GI Joe’s (not Barbie’s cause I was the only girl and I couldn’t play if I
didn’t have a GI Joe)
-Having to take my sister everywhere I went as soon as she was four
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| CARE |
| 09.19.05 (2:11 pm) [edit] |
I’m really tired today. It’s 3pm and I feel like I have been on the go since Friday. It wasn’t much of a weekend for me til last night. I really wanted to get out of the house after working my ass off on Saturday. I put together a carwash to raise some money to send to the Red Cross for Katrina Relief. It was something I wanted to do because I wanted to help. The reality that not many people were on the same page stung a little. I cannot complain (it was MY idea after all) I said come hell or high water with or without help I was going to wash cars. I found it odd that not many cars stopped. No one had time. There was somewhere else to be. It was heartbreaking. Is it because it’s not happening here it doesn’t matter? Is it that there are those out there that really don’t care? Is it cause “they were dumb for not leaving”? Is it because “they’re all ready getting a lot of help”? Maybe just maybe there is no compassion here. I don’t know how political groups do it. How they deal with people who don’t care enough to stop to listen or to give a hand. On the flip side of that last night I sat in on a spoken word event simply called CARE. In that room there was a genuine feel of what it was all about. We donated at the door. We sat and clapped and listened. I teared up twice. Maybe it was PMS. Maybe it was the disappointment from the day before but in there I found what I was hoping for with my event. Lots of people who cared.
**getting off my soap box now**
Yesterday was a blast. Alone in the restless city. I went to a housewarming party in the mission district. I did a lot of walking and forgot that on top of pinching my fingers in a garage door I had pulled my back at work the night before. I had to take it slow this morning. I had to make sure not to catch my hand on anything. I had to walk a little slower than usual. I thought a little about getting old. There were girls in heels and make up. There were girls with piercing’s. Someone’s mom was dancing in the middle of the room while the rest of us cheered her on. There were puppies everywhere. Most of the girls were couples but very sweet. We made mamosa’s (champagne with orange juice). They tried to play ping-pong but the wind wouldn’t let up. I tried not to stare at anyone for too long but they were all hot. I felt awkward because I really only knew ONE person there. I handled my own . I left a little early people were coming and going and I was having an anxiety thing going on cause I didn’t want to stand around by myself. I realized that I don’t have a “crew” like I used too. I am taking applications. More and more I’m wishing that I lived in the city.
The rest of the night was spent at the CARE fundraiser. I let some random people sit at my table making small talk but mostly listening. I didn’t stay for the after party because I didn’t want to be there alone. Though I was tempted because that wicked girl with the beautiful smile and incredible legs was dancing. I knew I had to go home if I was going to get up today. I feel tired. I’m looking forward to going home and taking a hot shower and laying in my bed to watch football.
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| It doesn't mean anything |
| 09.15.05 (12:05 pm) [edit] |
If it doesn’t mean anything at all. I can’t lay next to someone if I don’t want to be held by them. I can’t let someone sleep next to me unless I need something from them. I’ve had experiences where I kicked them out of my bed. Thanks. See ya around. No I don’t want to be your girl. No you can’t come back. No it will never happen again. Unless of course it meant something at all.
I’ve had my heart shattered once into the tinniest little pieces that no amount of superglue will ever be able to piece it together. I know that now it was not a waste of time it was a waste of experience. I spent a lot of time trying to make it right. Trying to make that moment come back. Trying to piece it back together. You can’t hold on to forever because forever just doesn’t happen.
I’ve left a trail of “what-if’s”. Distant regrets. Misplaced feelings. Unknown answers.
I am not as lonely as I used to be because I’ve let a lot of things go. I will not look back. Love is a very solid distant memory. Etched deeply into my soul. I’ve drowned it. Wrestled with it. Cried with it. Buried it. We pick our battles. Sometimes we have to learn when to walk away. In learning that I don’t have many battles anymore. I no longer step into the ring. I’m no longer the fighter I used to be.
In so many aspects of my life I am defeated. Choosing each battle wisely making sure I’ll survive it in the end.
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| Go Head Girl Go Head Get Down |
| 09.14.05 (3:14 pm) [edit] |
I danced last night. I lost my voice singing every song with J by my side. We drank ourselves drunk and laughed and ran into old faces. “Brownies for My Bitches” is the newest hang out for me. Give me a dance floor full of hot girls and I am there. I had to show J whom my new infatuation is and his mouth dropped as did mine when she started to wiggle her perfect round toosh on the stage.
I really wish we lived in the city. Where we live now is too rural. I want to drown in the noisy drunk city lights. I want live in its messy world so that I can be messy too. Not that I don’t know how to be messy but you see it makes me feel less messy when there are those that are messier than me.
We started off light with conversation and a Kettle One on the rocks. We were craving Hypnotic but no one had any. We started off enjoying the chilly night air as we walked back and forth between bars buying some time before the dancing began. My allergies kicked in as soon as we got off the train but it did not hinder me from the task at hand. I think I was allergic to Jose’s cologne (one he will not be wearing around me anymore). Jose was told that he reminded someone of Italians because of the fuzz on his face. This same woman took a sip of my Kettle One as I gave it to Jose and said that she wanted to kiss him because she missed home (I am assuming she meant Italy).
“There are so many women in here,” he said.
“Yes there are,” I say with a grin.
My, my, my. What do we have hear? It’s the way she throws back her head when she laughs I have decided that has got me goo-goo but having the body that she does helps too. I was trying not to stare at her so I made Jose get up and dance with me. Oh the company I keep because Jose decides to maneuver us to where she is dancing on the stage. Then he reaches out and literally makes me turn around to look at her. To which I automatically spin right back around and push him back the other way. He thinks this is funny. So does she cause she was watching us and laughing. It’s in her eyes whatever it is and I want it.
If I am attracted to you however, then there is always something that is going to stop me. Usually you’re either straight or taken. In this case very much taken by a girl much taller than me with short hair and a dazzling smile.
“She’s so not your usual type,” Jose tells me this morning. “But there is something about her that I like too. She seems really sweet.”
“Yeah I’ll probably never know,” I say winking.
We had pizza at the end of the night with the other dancer. We were drunk and accosted her when we saw her come into the pizza place. We bought her something to eat then asked her the same three questions over and over. We exchanged numbers and invited her to hang out sometime.
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| Damage Control |
| 09.07.05 (7:33 am) [edit] |
I’ve been spending more and more time alone. I prefer alone right now. I don’t want to listen to the giggles of love or mindless conversation. I don’t want to watch cartoons because I don’t find them amusing. I don’t want to talk about anything to anyone I know but I do. I’m used to my roommates they aren’t going to give me anything I need right now. Our home has become a place to just lay our heads. We don’t hang out. We don’t talk. We don’t do anything except exist in the same space. We watch TV and we eat. I know what you are thinking the excitement is just too much to take.
I feel trapped. I feel alone. I feel hopeless. While I’m off trying to save the world I can’t even get my own shit straight. The ones that I want to talk too never answer their phones. I hate when I get needy like this because then it feels like the whole world is turning their back. When deep down I know that they aren’t. So this is it. Here is where I let it all out and then it’s out but it doesn’t ever feel like its fixing what’s on the inside. I expose myself to a bunch of strangers because the ones that are close to me I can’t talk too.
My mom has been in bed for three days. My mom who never sits down. My mom who is more of a busy body than most busy bodies. She has been in her bed crying and sleeping because all she feels is sadness. She doesn’t want to do anything. She doesn’t want to know anything. She calls me in the morning and I can’t find the comforting words because all I want to say is it’s your fault that things are this way. Then I feel guilty because I can’t fix it. Things are catching up with her. Everything is sneaking in and she talks to me about it and all I think about is how lonely she is. I am only her daughter I don’t know how to be her friend.
Aug 26th marked a year since Aida had passed. I thought about how time has just sped on by I wondered how many had bothered to stop and remember her on that day. I was going to take flowers but I didn’t, I was going to visit her family but I didn’t. It’s done. She’s gone and there is nothing more to it than that. I want to know what her daughter looks like. I wonder if she has Aida’s face. I’m sure she has her curly hair but considering I haven’t spoken to her family since the funeral I don’t feel I can just show up and ask to see her. What would I say?
Finally. After 18 months of bullshit classes and bullshit fines and bullshit three hour commute on public trans (except for when Jose asks me if I need a ride). I find out that the bullshit DUI establishment may not process my record through because of a misunderstanding with a check-in process. She says she sent letters (to the wrong fucking address) but she never called, not ONCE to tell me that my record was going to sent back to the courthouse. I went this fucking long without messing up. I went, I paid ALL my fees, I participated and THEN to tell me this??? She is going to talk to another supervisor and I have to go back Friday. I am not holding my breath on this one. If I have to do it over I will blow a casket and then I’ll get over it and have to do it ALL over again. Another 18 months of bullshit. I want to leave the country. I wouldn’t need a fucking license then.
I have called three times in the last two weeks to ask for my CD’s and books back. Three brief, “Hope you are well” “Call me back please” calls. You’d think she’d fucking call me back and say, “Hey asshole no you cant have them back because I lost them and I don’t have time to talk to you because I am MUCH to busy thinking that the world hates me because I’m beautiful.”
I’m just done. I need change. I need to find something to help me feel like I’m doing something right. No one is going to give me a fucking gold star for not having a drink in ten days. That’s right I am counting why? Because I can. I think it’s a big deal especially for me. I’m scared of the first hang over I know I am going to have when I finally decide that I want a beer or whatever else I may fancy at the time. Yes I said fancy. I like the word.
2 am and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
Anna Nalick (Breathe) 2am
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| Katrina |
| 09.06.05 (12:09 pm) [edit] |
I am supposed to have an opinion but it makes my heart hurt when I think of what is happening to the people that were in Katina’s way when it hit. You can’t stop nature from running its course, that is not the issue. Speaking to a friend on Saturday while watching the news from my mom’s living room I felt my stomach turn.
“Thinking of Bush makes me sick,” I said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Cause he’s an idiot,” I answer.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because things aren’t being handled the way they should have been. There are people dying because we don’t have the resources to help them there because most of our military is off fighting someone else’s fucking war,” I said.
“Those people knew they needed to get out. It’s not the government’s fault they decided to stay,” she answered.
“I’m gonna go,” I said.
I was pissed. I still am. I was in the Marines. I served four years proudly. I was scared when the towers went down. I was behind the war until innocent people started dying. I am not political so what ever thoughts you may have on it keep them I don’t stand by anything that Bush has done since he’s been in office. Fuck I voted when the election came around.
Listening to the Mayor of New Orleans on Thursday (four days after) as he explained what life was like in the underwater city made me cry. I listened as his voice cracked when he described the bodies floating by. There was nothing he could do. They were still waiting for help.
“People are dying. We are waiting on 40,000 troops. There is nobody here……. It feels like the end, “ he said.
Then the silence took over and you could here the reporters in the background trying to get the right words out but they couldn’t. They were over come with emotion and the reality of it all. Today I read an article about some of the troops in Iraq. How they don’t know if their families are alive. How if they make it back alive they don’t have a home to come home too. That in it self says so much more than any words that I can come up with.
It’s a sad time but there is hope. While the government sits on their ass pointing fingers, taking vacations and shopping for shoes. The rest of America are opening their homes, giving their money, and offering support to each other.
THAT is the only thing that the people suffering have left.
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| Anais Nin |
| 08.31.05 (11:12 am) [edit] |
There is not one big cosmic meaning for all,
there is only the meaning we each give to our life,
an individual meaning, an individual plot,
like an individual novel, a book for each person.
--Anais Nin
I’ve been doing a lot of Anais Nin reading lately and in doing so I am finding a lot of inspiration for writing and also for life. There is a certain voice that she captures when she writes that reminds me of my own. It is intense and unafraid on paper but she admits to failing the same passion in life. In reading her it has made me think of my own life.
I often times drown in my emotions. I feel things. I like the rawness of things. I love the edges of life. I love the imperfections and the out of control moments. I love the ease of a good day. I love the after math of a bad one. There are moments of abandonment. While other seems to stand still.
I am watching Jose fall in love. It’s insane to see his restlessness. He is moody and delicate in a way I’m not sure I’ve seen before. He kisses my head before going to bed now maybe wanting to share some of the love he is feeling with me. He doesn’t talk much about it when I do ask he is simple with his answers. New love. Like the first day of sun after a week full of dark clouds and rain.
I have released myself from the need for Cruz to accept me. In stepping away from each other I realized that I needed his approval at a time when there was a lot of things going on in my life. It felt like he abandoned me right along with everyone else because he didn’t know how to be my friend anymore. In thinking on it now it had nothing to do with him. It was more about me needing someone who was willing to be there for me. He was not and I have accepted that.
When someone changes for better or worse it causes their surroundings to change as well. I am standing on my own. I spend a lot of time reading. I am writing in a journal (writing exercises). I sing and dance and laugh at my own accord. I love my family with the same intensity that have always had for them. I don’t care what people think about how dysfunctional we are. I am growing again. I am aware of when I shed my old skin and move forward despite the tragedies.
I will always be me. I will always be missing pieces. I will in my own way always be tragic but I move forward. I will always ride out what ever I am feeling because it is healing and it makes me aware of myself.
In further less “reflecting” news. I have dyed my hair again and I like. I have gone to the dentist finally (I have to go back for a deep cleaning and some replacement of some fillings) other than that all is well. I am going to Acapulco in November. I have gone 7 days without a drink because I feel I want too, not because I need too. My last DUI class was last night I have one more check in and then I await the news of whether or not I can apply for my license any time soon. I want so many things right now but I am applying patience.
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| And she danced |
| 08.28.05 (2:44 pm) [edit] |
I am sitting here. I feel sick to my stomach because I want to know her. I want to meet her and probe her mind. I want to watch other people want her and need her and hunger for her. How odd it is to feel about someone that is out of my circle. How odd it is to feel obssesive (not obsessed) to want to learn her.
I am sitting here and my throat is dry from the thought of how crazy I am going to appear. How crazy I feel. I am no where near her. I am a part of the crowd mesmerized by the physical. I know where she is. At what parties she'll be at then I don't go because I am scared that I'll just be another face and then the idea dies. Then I become myself. The quiet one in the corner of the bar. The one lost in a the daze of her drink. The one that drinks and drinks until she is full and can not remember why it was that she came.
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| Fifty-Three Years old |
| 08.22.05 (10:59 am) [edit] |
I watched my dad yesterday as he sat around with my uncle’s and cousins telling jokes and drinking his wine. His hair is gray and thinner than usual because of his surgery a few years back. The chemo worked but his hair didn’t grow back the way it was supposed too. He can’t do anything without his glasses now. I remember when he first started to wear them it was just to help him read but now they are a permanent fixture on his face. He put on his new pants, shirt and shoes that my sister and I got him for Father’s Day. He looked handsome in that Antonio Banderas way. When I tease him about it he tells me to go to hell and that he’s better looking than that and he laughs and pushes me away.
My father has grown sentimental in his old age. Long gone are the macho days of drinking Tequila and beer he had to give it up if was going to survive. Long gone are the days of him strumming his guitar into the early morning he had to give it up because he has arthritis in his hands. He sits in his recliner and watches soccer and the animal channel when he’s home. He prefers to sit in his yard and feed his birds now instead of going camping or sitting out by the beach and eating KFC as the sun goes down.
There are good memories slurred along with the bad but over all he’s survived his life. I say survive because it’s been a long battle for him. For his birthday this year he bought a Ford Ram truck. It’s beautiful. My uncles slapped his back and congratulated him as he showed it off to them. His eyes were bright. No one mentioned my sister’s name until later in the evening. He stared into his glass and sat quietly for a minute. I caught his eye and winked. He got up to come talk to me since I was at the grill alone.
He put his arm around me, “My house is empty.”
His eyes were a little watery which always causes mine to do the same, “but your life is full of love daddy.”
I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He hadn’t shaved that morning and it reminded me of when he would chase us around the house so he could tickle us with his unshaven beard. I hated it then but when I felt it yesterday I didn’t mind it so much.
“It’s not the same without her here. Like when you went away. Everything kind of died slowly,” he said staring into the coals.
“I miss her too but she’s doing something for herself. We can’t be too selfish,” I said.
We stared into the fire for a long time before either one of us spoke again.
“***** you know I love you right?” he asked quietly.
“Does this mean I get the truck?” I asked back.
He laughed and walked away shaking his head. Today my father turned fifty three years old.
Happy Birthday Papi.
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| You Met Who? |
| 08.17.05 (8:26 am) [edit] |
So I think I got as close as I’m going to get to meeting a celebrity and that’s only if you consider a reality TV personality a “celebrity”. We were sitting at the Cat Club in SF on Friday night after a delicious dinner at the Cheese Cake Factory with my siblings. While the wait I could have done without the meal was on a gift card so we ate good. I had them drop me off a few blocks away so they wouldn’t see where I was going. I didn’t want them to see the line of trendy punky lesbians. My friends have been trying to get me to go to this party for a while now. I haven’t been able to go because of work so being that I had the weekend off I geared up for some good times.
E and I arrived at the bar around midnight. The place was barely starting to pick up. 80’s retro music blared in the front room and you could faintly here the bass thumping from the hip-hop room towards the back. We ordered our rounds and sat around catching up. I had my back against the wall and watched as the girls filed back and forth from one room to the next. I recognized some from my bar and said hello casually. It wasn’t my scene or maybe I just wasn’t in the mood. We sat on the couch and chatted up one of E’s new friends. Everyone was pretty drunk by the time we were getting a slight buzz on. I heard a familiar song coming from the backroom and jumped over the couch to get to the back room.
I was standing there trying to see if I could get to the dance floor without getting smooshed between these two bull dykes grinding on each other when I recognized the face dancing up on a speaker. Well to be honest she was lifting her shirt and I thought I was going to see some skin. Anyway it dawns on me that its Coral from several of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge MTV shows. Now I don’t freak out. I stand and watch her dance then go back to tell E that she’s up there dancing on the speaker then tell her to go take a picture of her with her phone. (At the time it seemed like a good idea) The phone didn’t work and Coral flipped her off. E was not happy.
Needless to say about fifteen minutes later she is standing on one side of the bathroom line and the guy she was dancing with was right on the other side of the couch. The light goes off in my head. I don’t know if it was that I wanted to meet her persay (I didn’t want to be a groupie unlike the other lezzies in line with her). It was more of a I wonder if I can actually meet her. I just wanted to see what would happen. I wink at E and turn around to address him.
“That would get on my nerves I think,” I said out loud. (He could ignore me or talk to me I figured).
“Yeah I think she’s used to it at this point,” he says.
“It has to be weird to just have people come up and talk to you when all you want to do is piss,” I said.
He laughed at me, “I’m her best friend so I can tell you she doesn’t really mind. As long as they aren’t assholes.”
“I’m sure from seeing her on TV everyone knows she bites, “ I said.
“She’s having fun with it,” he said. “I don’t know if I could deal with it though. There are crazy people out there I can tell you that much.”
“I figure yeah she was on TV but now she’s just trying to enjoy her life. It just seems silly to me how people are,” I said.
“You know what she needs to meet people like you cause everyone else just wants something from her. Would you come to my party? Can I buy you a drink? Can we take a picture with you? It gets old,” he says waving at her to come over.
“Nah don’t even trip, “ I said. “I’m sure she’s got enough groupies. Don’t want to bug her on my account. It’s not that serious.”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“No it’s no big deal I’ll go get her,” he takes off to wait for her to finish tinkling.
I turn around and look at E and smile.
“Dude what did you tell him,” she asks.
“Nothing. We’ll see what happens,” I say winking.
I finish my beer off and put the empty bottle on the table. I wanted to turn around just because I wanted to see if he was really going to get her to come over. Not to sound like a sixteen year old but I thought it would be cool. I didn’t go meet her she would come to meet me. Sure enough I feel a tap on my shoulder and introductions are made. She was really down to earth and grateful to be pulled away from the camera phones and inquiring questions. We discussed a little about what I was telling him and she seemed slightly amused by me being indifferent to meeting her. I scanned the crowd of camera phone whores and laughed inwardly at their faces. I’m sure they were wondering what made me so special. Little did they know that there was “nothing to see here people.” They asked what we were doing after and we talked a little about going to the EndUp. We agree and Coral says she’d go but only for an hour.
We were ready to go soon after my little celebrity exchange and on our way out they were standing by the door. (this is where I fuck up kids). I tell them that it was really nice meeting them and to have a good night.
“Maybe we’ll see you at the bar,” I say and walk away.
I, in my insanity of feeling super cool (which hardly happens) FORGOT to exchange numbers with the best friend. He had asked me before but we figured we’d see each other at the bar and we could do it then. Everyone go ahead and slap their foreheads here.
Anyway we didn’t see them at the bar. We looked around and after the first 15 minutes of looking I stopped caring and danced with half naked sweaty gay boys on drugs who said things like “we’re gonna eat you up” and “I love your tits”. Oh the night life.
***UPDATE: So I lied about the celebrity thing. I totally forgot about my encounter with Courtney Love (yes THE Courtney Love) at the premiere of Pearl Harbor when I was stationed in Hawaii . She pulled me out of the stands when I yelled her name and told her daughter Bean "See babe you should want to be like her not like mommy." She gave my shoulders a squeeze and I winked at her daughter. Some of us had been allowed to be on the red carpet during the event as long as we were in uniform. Stroke of luck that I recognized her and called her name as Ben Affleck strolled by surrounded by at least 25 hot island girls. Then there was the time I met Bruce Willis when he was filming Tears of the Sun right after the towers went down. Some of us were allowed to go sit on set during the filming and see how it was really done. He was really cordial and stated "You all are the real heros. I just play the part." which at the time was pretty cool considering most of us were standing guard two days on one day off. Oh, and Christian Slater too. We were in a bar and were standing by the VIP room waiting in the bathroom line when walked out sloshed out of his mind with his boy groupies. R walked over with M in tow cause M had never met a celebrity before. I remember him being obnoxious mostly.
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| In the Taxi |
| 08.12.05 (11:09 am) [edit] |
We did it in the taxi on the way home after dancing all night in a seedy bar. She was sitting in the front seat talking to the driver. I was sitting in the back memorizing the small of her neck. Then she turned and looked at me. I noticed her boyish short hair and ruffled it slightly. She stumbled over the front seat and into my lap drunk on liquor and possibility. Something in her eyes scared me. I remember leaning over and kissing her pouty lips. Her tongue was soft against mine. It had been so long since I’d kissed anyone that meant anything but she was just a stranger sitting in the back of a cab. What started off as slow affection turned into a swirl of sweat and probing hands. Hands that filled me and made me tremble. Naked in the back seat. Leather against skin the smell of stale cigarettes and her perfume filled my senses. She was greedy with me. She held me down and pushed into me. She bit the small of my neck as I wrapped one leg around her waist and pulled her down. Her face buried into me. Gasps of air. I opened my eyes long enough to find her staring into my face as I arched into her. The fog on the window was starting to sweat. Almost I felt her body sticky against mine. Both racing to the end of something that felt so good. I bit her lip and then it was over. We lay there breathing. I didn’t want to move not then, not ever.
“Here you go,” says the cabbie.
I look down and I am dressed again and she is gone. Then I am awake wrapped around my blankets. The dawn is barely breaking through the blinds in my window and I am aware of my breathing. I reach for the clock. It’s too early to get up. So I grab a pillow and place it over my head and yell into it.
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| What's in the mix? |
| 08.10.05 (10:42 am) [edit] |
1-Fabulous cousin
2-Fabulous gal pal’s
3-beers
6-Hypnotic on the rocks
4-Cosmo shots
1-hot dancer that is still making my head spin
1-bar with trendy spiky haired lesbians
I take it all back. I like girls with short hair, amazing legs, short skirts, and beautiful eyes. Yes. Sign me up for the monthly newsletter. I’ll even hand out your fliers if you promise me she will be there next month. I had such a good time last night. I was going to leave see so I could get back to my house at an honest time. We didn’t leave till almost 1:30am after the girls offered to take me to the BART in the morning so I could stay. We were only supposed to have dinner and a little bit of sneak peak at the Brownie party. None of us had ever been. The Cuz has a crush on one of the DJ’s so I said yes let’s go see what happens at these Brownie parties.
Jesus. They have girls in schoolgirl outfits complete with glasses serve you cosmo shots in short skirts! THEN they find the one girl you find oddly attractive with short hair and make her get half naked to move her body in ways that makes your head spin. Then you realize you are sitting there with your mouth open and drink the rest of your drink to distract yourself from staring at her abs and other assets. Some guy with a hat bought J and I our cosmo shots as we sat there chatting and scanning the crowd. Then we bought the rest of the tray and waited for the rest of our party to come back to partake in the consumption of our drinks.
The girl walks by and I nudge J, “Think she’ll do a shot?”
“Ask her,” J says.
I hesitate then reach out to touch her shoulder, “Take a shot with me.”
She smiles, “No I really can’t.”
“ONE shot of cosmo is not going to kill you,” I said looking her in the eyes.
She smiles and shrugs and says, “Ok.”
Turns out that my cousin knows more lesbians than I probably ever will. She loves the thrill of the kill she says. I personally just love the thrill. She made me put dollar bills in the girls skirt. Then I danced. Turns out that my cousin also knows the dancer that makes me swoon. Oh yes because we all know how much of a smooth operator I am (NOT) I managed to spill wax on her from the little candle that illuminated our faces around the table because they insisted I take a picture with her.
“How did you know I liked that?” she asked because I kept apologizing.
I am such a bad teenage movie. I am the one that stutters and says all the wrong things to the girls.
“It’s in your eyes,” I say casually meeting her gaze. Her face had a sly smile and then I lost it again.
“I really am sorry,” I say reaching for the beer bottle and placing it where the wax had fallen. It only made her smile more.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“It’s so it won’t redden and no one will be able to tell when you get back up there,” I said.
I think my refusal to meet her stare again intrigued her cause I could see her smile out of the corner of my eye while I swigged my beer back. Did I mention how amazing her legs were? My cousin was sitting next to me when she went back up to dance.
“I think she likes you,” she said. (Mind you at this time we were rather intoxicated)
“What makes you say that?” I say turning to look at her.
“She keeps looking over here now,” she says giggling.
“Maybe she’s planning her revenge on me for spilling the wax on her,” I said half laughing.
“You are such a frooty!” she says back.
I didn’t get the girls number (awww I know) but it was fun and that is all that matters. Other than the fact that I cannot get her body off my mind this morning and the music is still thumping in my head and I may still be a little buzzed I feel wonderful this morning. I am completely smitten and I’m sure it’s unhealthy in some form or another. The last time I was this stricken was at the end of the fashion show that Cruz shot at the end of last year.
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| Fried Green Tomatoes |
| 08.09.05 (12:59 pm) [edit] |
I don’t remember how old I was when I heard the words “Tawanda!” come out of Mary Louise Parkers mouth in Fried Green Tomatoes as she jumped out of the moving train (or was that the other chick that yelled that?). I do remember that the movie made me cry and I didn’t cry easy back then. I remember thinking that the love story was the most beautiful and normal thing that can happen between two people. My little heart shattered into pieces when I realized I was totally attracted to her smile. I identified with both characters and understood their “friendship” even if it was more than obvious that they were in love with each other. You know like if you watch Xena long enough you realize that the Sapphic love between the two main characters is so there. If you think about the first time you had a best friend it was there. I’m not saying it always go further than that but as a child growing up identifying with someone causes a mixture of feelings. In girls more than boys (but I am no doctor and this is my opinion) but in my experiences its definitely true.
I’ve had a crush on her since before Angelina Jolie. Angie just put the final nail on the coffin so to speak. Anyway this all comes around because she is starring in a new Showtime show called Weeds this season. I missed the premiere Sunday but caught the encore last night. Let’s make a checklist shall we?
1. Older woman –Check
2. Married—check
3. Kids—check
4. Straight—check
5. Great tatas-check
I think she is fuckin hot. It’s like when I went on my kick with Jennifer Beals? I called my first older lady crush and explained my frustration with this new phenomena of mine.
“Well she is a hot momma,” she says laughing at me.
“Ugh. I don’t understand it ****,” I say sighing.
“Don’t know what to tell you hun,” she said.
“I don’t want to have crushes on older ladies. I’m just now getting over you,” I said laughing.
There is a hearty laugh, “You bad.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now I HAVE to watch the show,” I said.
We hung up shortly after having a conversation about doing lunch and a facial treatment that she is undergoing.
I have serious issues I am now coming to terms with. I don’t like the trendy punk lesbians with their spiky hair and tattooed arms. I don’t like the butchy bike riding ones that don’t shave their armpits. I was just not born to be a lesbian. Yes I like women but I never signed up for any of the other stuff.
I’m living in a slow hell. I want to post an ad on Craigslist for a man to take the lesbian in me away. Does anyone realize the possibility of the answers that will come to me because we all know the line “You just haven’t met the right man yet.” Ludicrous I know but it’s slowly driving me insane. This wanting and lusting after things I cannot have is just not for me. It only allows me to continue adding to the list of why I can’t find someone to just have around. It’s the only explanation for me not getting laid.
I’m in need of a summer fling and it’s all ready August. I am so far behind the curve.
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| Dancing with Hot Pink Flamingos |
| 08.03.05 (7:44 am) [edit] |
I touched down Friday night in San Diego completely submerged in thought about the company picnic. I couldn’t shake that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm sure Kevin noticed right away. I gave the gist of how it went down. We got in the car turned on the radio and simply said, “It’s over. There is nothing you can do about it. You are on vacation now.”
Off we took speeding away from the noisy airport and onto the freeway leaving it behind. I rolled the window down and removed my jacket. The warm salty air made me smile right away. I stuck my arm out which is a little habit of mine to feel the air against my palm as I let it flap lazily against the wind.
It was Pride Weekend in San Diego and I was going to spare the whole gay pride speech because we all know how anti-lets-hang-out-and-be -gay-together I am. I went one because I missed my birthday celebration and two because it was with Kevin and when I go anywhere with him gay/straight/confused we always have a good time. He took me to his favorite bar Hamburger Mary’s in the Hillcrest area of down town San Diego. The place was PACKED with people and there were little pink blown up flamingo’s EVERYWHERE. I fell in love with it automatically because there was gay line dancing going on! I had never been or seen anything like in my life. Everyone there was friendly and I don’t know if it was because of the spirit of the celebration or because that’s just the way it is there.
It was four days of dancing, drinking, laughing, dancing, drinking and dancing some more. The first night we hit up two place’s the first being The Pink Flamingo Room (that’s my name for it) and the second a place called the Brass Rail. In there we found a room full of hip-hop and r&b heads. Some walking around half naked bumping and grinding on the dance floor. It was seedy place full of dark things but I fell right into the crowd. We danced till our shirts were soaked and our throats were dry. We danced until the lights came up and everyone was stumbling out of the bar. Most were hooking up. Some were breaking up. We got home at 4am that morning. We were laughing at the idea that we had to get up the next morning at 9am for the parade.
I have never been to an actual Pride parade, yes I live in SF. No I have never attended the one here. I was totally taken back by the amount of people that were present. There were ALL kinds of people there. I was snapping and stopping and snapping and staring and making eye contact and pinching Kev to get his attention when I saw something worth gawking at. We laughed and got sunburned. I took it all in. There were mixed emotions which I can not really begin to find the words for. It was amazing to me when the hoards of people walked by at the end of the parade joining a walk of support and love. There were people hanging of their balcony clapping and yelling and waving rainbow flags everywhere. There was confetti and drag queens, there were dykes and bikes and gay Mormon’s, there were fourteen year olds making out with each other (which totally caught me off guard), there were parents and children (families), there were water guns and more lube than any gay person can possibly use (I think), there was loud music and bubbles, there were daddies and twinkies, they were all there for one reason or another. Whether in support or just plain old curiosity to see what the big hoopla is about they were there. Thousands of people. Drinking and celebrating whatever it was that on that day they stood for. It was a pleasant surprise. It was something worth seeing. We didn’t rush past it to get to a bar we were part of what was happening.
The rest of the weekend was exactly that. Party after party. We spent most of the weekend surrounded by complete strangers. Eating early morning breakfast or meeting them for dinner. There was this incredibly hot couple whom I told in a druken moment that I was going to stalk them all weekend long. Turns out that we ran into the beautiful boys everywhere we went. They would laugh and hug me and eventually I told them that they should stop stalking ME that it wasn’t the original plan.
As always I left Kevin’s side satisfied and totally appreciated his care in making sure I was having a good time. I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to know how people can afford to just not worry about work and sit around a bar full of hot pink flamingos and drink all day while basking the sea of bodies. I want that. I don’t want to pay bills or not be able to take days off.
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| Picnic Disaster |
| 08.02.05 (6:21 am) [edit] |
There is nothing more to say on it. It was fumbled and NOTHING could make me feel better. Our spot was poached. I did not know that you could RESERVE the spot. It's a park! Needless to say I was standing on the top of the hill with a glass full of Bacardi and V-juice flagging people down a little after noon. I stood up there for an hour.
Complain. Complain. Complain.
I have a meeting with the head honcho this morning. He completely ignored me this morning.
Cell phones dont work in the mountains. People can't seem to function without cell phones.
You know what? Eat me.
I will take responsibility for what I messed up. I am and adult after all but I know he's going to make me feel like I am 10 and got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I know that I'm going to get mad and I'm going to do my best to hold back the tears.
EVERYONE else found it.
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| Feeling Poetic |
| 07.28.05 (12:49 pm) [edit] |
Yet out of breath. The words are barely under the surface looking up at the blue sky. Like the lottery tickets that you scratch hoping to match the right ones. I feel inspired yet uninspired by so many things. I am full of sadness and melancholy but of the good kind (if there is such a thing). I’ve decided that my cousin is a fairy. I want to wisk her away and put her in a forest full of green tree’s and moss. I want to build her a house like the one in Peter Pan (the one with Robin Williams).
Oddly enough running into my cousins (three girls) after almost sixteen years has been like a breath of fresh air. We used to spend summers frolicking in the summer heat. We used to take trips to Disneyland in their van. We used to play board games like Monopoly and Life. We used to watch the summer Olympics and scary movies. We’d eat bitter grapes from their vines in the backyard and skim through MAD Comic books while their doggie ran around us in circles. They were magic to me when I was younger. They were a month of no arguing and sleeping in late and never having to make our beds.
It feels strange now that we are all grown up but when I see them I just want to hug them and giggle and tell wacky stories. I want to fill in the spaces and know their experiences and share mine. I do not feel dumb or awkward like I would imagine most do after such a long time apart. We didn’t talk to each other unless we were spending the summer together. Yet being around them now makes me feel good.
Last night I was preparing for my trip to San Diego. I want to go and spend the weekend in the sun watching the glistening bodies stroll by. I am going to visit Kev (my sanity keeper). That’s who I call. That is who I go visit. That is who always makes me feel better when I feel like shit is just no good. I’m looking forward to it.
Tomorrow is also the company picnic. I hope there will be stories to tell. Tonight is my brother’s play. I am going with Hotpants and meeting my brother and sister later. There is so much going on. I’m hoping this will pass. I think it’s just PMS bogging me down.
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| MySpace |
| 07.25.05 (11:26 am) [edit] |
Oh that’s correct kids. I am addicted. I’m not even sure who showed me the site or why but right now I wish they hadn’t. Now I am a part of the millions that leave silly comments on pages. I check it every hour or so. I search through the many, many links just to see into other people’s lives. I guess I am bored with mine. I look at the pictures. I look at their blogs. I am a voyeur of lives and I hate it! Yet, I cannot help it. I want to read it all.
I wonder how many people just add each other for the popularity contest. John has 20 friends but I want 300. Add, Add, Add.
I love the ones that are just there to NETWORK and yet they insist on putting up rather revealing pictures. What the hell do they expect??? Oh they want to work your net all right.
Ahhh all the boys that love to squint into the camera and tilt their head back to give you “The look” so you can comment on how “hot” he is. They all look like Ashton Kutcher!
Ohhhh the ladies that love to hate on the other girls cause SOMEONE can’t get over themselves. We get it you think you are hotter than hot and she isn’t. Feel better now.
Ahhhh the children that are never going to learn how to spell properly because everyone uses Ebonics and if you actually spell something right they don’t understand. (I thought my generation was screwed.)
MySpace is my stomping ground and I find myself getting sucked in deeper and deeper. I keep checking to see if I’ll recognize anyone. I don’t know why I even do it.
I’m not there to NETWORK and I don’t care if you’re hot (though I would be lying if I said didn’t click on the pictures).
I just click and click and click some more.
Someone help me.
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| The Things you Learn Along the Way |
| 07.21.05 (2:33 pm) [edit] |
Life has this weird way of allowing you to feel like the King/Queen of your moments. For a minute the lightness of being is bright and solid. You see things clearly. You run towards it at a constant pace afraid that one day it will go away again. You are strong in your choices, You are certain of your future. Then when it feels like you are forgetting your place it slaps you down. Hard. It says, “You will never be as great as me.”
J and I got into a serious accident yesterday on the way home from work. We were both in good moods. I was on the phone, he was listening to the radio. We were at a stoplight. I was talking to my brother about life. He is going through a very low point in his and I was trying to give him the right words. Something solid to hold on too. Maybe I forgot my place because all you we heard were the screeches of the tires then the sound of metal on metal. I dropped my phone and watched as the front of his car slammed into Cherokee in front of us. The hood bent and rose like a mountain coming out from under the ground.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask.
My seat belt came flying off and I look at J. He is grabbing the back of his head. I am looking around unable to really grasp what just happened.
“Get out the car,” I say quickly.
We open the doors and make sure all the passengers were ok. The smell of rubber and radiator fluid filled the air. I don’t remember walking across the street. I just remember being there watching it unfold. J’s car was completely smashed in between both cars. The guy who hit us was trying to push his Cadillac back with his hands.
“What’s he doing?” I said to myself.
He was pissed. He was telling them to move their cars forward so that we could get out of traffic and pull over to the side. I ran back across the street towards the Cherokee.
“Hey don’t move anything,” I tell her.
She looks at me and turns her car off. He gets irate and starts mumbling to himself.
“Call the cops J,” I said.
“I am,” he says still holding his head.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“I don’t know right now,” he says.
The guy reaches into his car to get something out of the glove compartment. He shuts his door and starts walking away to the sidewalk. J yells something but I am all ready crossing the street following a half a block behind. He was walking on the sidewalk trying to flag cars down. No one stopped. I was walking on the opposite side of the sidewalk near the cars so he couldn’t see me. I knew that I shouldn’t have been following him. I knew that I should have just gone back and waited for the cops to come but my heart was racing. My common sense was left behind in the rubble. The thought that this guy could have killed me based on his lack of attention and stupidity put me in a different state of mind. I followed from a distance and I followed carefully that was all that mattered.
Eventually I called the police. It took me approximately eight minutes to get through to someone. I repeated my story three times to three different people. Finally they told me to stop following him and that I needed to go back to the crime scene. I told them the location of where I last spotted him. It was in their hands now and I had to be ok with that. I will not deny that I wanted to keep following but he was headed into a seedier part of the neighborhood. My common sense found its way home.
They found him eventually. We had to drive by and identify the guy. He had changed his clothes and even his hat but it was him. I wanted them to search inside to see if the clothes I had seen him in were there but if you watch CSI you know you need a warrant.
The cops were trying to be light about it all. Saying “we’ll get him”, “we have an idea of who it was”, “this guy is a scum bag”. The whole while I was thinking “If they had just sent the trooper my way in the first place there would be no doubt.” While I was riding in the FRONT seat of the trooper car I had a moments panic.
What if it isn’t him?
What if I can’t make a positive ID?
When he turned and I saw his face my doubt disappeared. I knew it was him. The same facial hair. The same ratty pony tail. A relief washed over me. I laid my head against the side bar of the window and watched as the streets zoomed past us on the way back to the scene. He was talking code into the radio. I pretended not to care but I wondered if the others had felt that sure about his face.
I sat here all day today thinking about all the what if’s:
What if we had been in a smaller car?
What if they hadn’t caught him?
What if the car in front of us hadn’t been far enough?
What if there were fumes that had escaped?
What if the car behind us had been an SUV?
I suppose it doesn’t matter now and I know there have been a lot of people in a lot of accidents. A lot of people that were less fortunate. A lot of people that only had a scratch on their car. A lot of people that barely missed.
There are so many things that throw you for a loop in life. There are so many things to think about. There are so many “what if’s”.
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| In the Mission |
| 07.20.05 (2:25 pm) [edit] |
J and I got off the Bart on the corner of 16th and Valencia. It was over cast in the city and cold in comparison to our Berkeley summer breeze and sunny days. The point of being out there was to meet Smababy (from You Know How You Do) for her birthday get together. We were to meet at a seedy bar in the Mission District. There are Mexican markets and Mexican restaurants and Mexican crack heads. There are liquor stores on every corner at both ends of every block and when you walk in they watch you like hawks in case you decide to grab a bag of chips and run. The bums on the corner are whistling through the teeth they have left at the hookers in their tight red mini skirts and burgundy heels. It smelled like pee and rotted vegetables but it is the Mission and maybe I was just not smelling the right things.
We locate the appointed bar. Its sandy brown walls reminded me of Mexican adobe homes. The bar had the basics and that was it. So if you wanted something that the nightclubs make you weren’t going to get it here (which we learned later on that night). J and I sat down and ordered Mojitos (very good Mojitos). We sat and talked about things. Laughing at memories. Creating new ones. My cousins joined us soon after the lights were dimmed and the DJ started spinning Funk sounds with no lyrics. In between conversation I realized that I missed the seediness of certain places. I watched as the ladies across from us drank glass after glass of red wine. Business woman in their business work clothes having after business hour drinks. I watched the reflection of the candle dance off their glasses. I smiled realizing that I didn’t miss the drinking as much as missed the reason we crowd around the glasses in seedy bars drinking expensive shitty drinks.
Soon Cruzando and Izzy (the father of my unborn children) showed up followed by Smababy and her birthday clan. We all sat around while Super Fly played on the screen above our table. We bought Sma birthday drinks and downed some of our own. There was conversation and laughs and dirty camera phone pictures that J wouldn’t share with the rest of the table. My cousins were giggly and sweet as they drank their rum and cokes down. They lent me some money because my ATM card was inactive and we had tried different pin numbers so it no longer accepted it when I actually remembered what the right one was. Eventually both parties parted ways and we headed to the gay bar on the corner. If my cousins hadn’t wanted to go I would have jumped on the BART and brought my half buzzed ass home skipping the gay scene.
Someone had to have some cojones to put a gay bar in the Mission. We walked down hand in hand and stopped outside. The bar looked run down and dangerous on the outside. (I’m supposing most old bars do). After four drinks for whatever reason it just seemed more menacing. Earlier in the evening we had walked by and contemplated going in with J for a pre-drink but changed our mind when a rough looking Mexican stumbled his way out.
We walked in to find a really cozy place with a jukebox for the day crowd and a lit up stage for the Queens of the night. The complete opposite of what I had expected.We pulled up a table and watched the show as three classy looking ladies performed selected songs in Spanish and some here and there in English. We drank and laughed and talked some more over rums and coke. The girls sat on one end the boys on the other. I will state again that I miss the female species. It wasn’t because they were my cousins. It was because most of the people I know are gay men. We stayed much longer than intended but we also danced till the early hours of the morning.
This morning rising out of my bed was not easy. I was supposed to get up at 7am and go find a place for our company picnic but slept in for an extra hour instead. It wasn’t a bad hangover though I did feel the affects of the liquor and not enough sleep. It was fun. I want to do it more. I think I am going to become greedy with this need to be out. I feel it and I think I like it.
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| The Kiddie Pool |
| 07.18.05 (1:00 pm) [edit] |
That’s right kids. I went out and bought a kiddie pool to put in our yard for the summer time heat. We bought the pump, the pool and yes even the pool cover. We got up yesterday morning in anticipation for our Pool Party BBQ. I made several reminder phone calls that said: YES THERE WILL BE A POOL SO BRING YOUR SWIMMING GEAR CAUSE EVERYONE WILL BE PARTICIPATING.
We set out to clean the yard up and rearrange things so that everyone would be sitting outside versus the usual sit inside while I cook outside (which I totally was against this time). I wanted to be a part of the mingling and the socializing so we set it up just that way. Jose and I went to Toys R Us to try to find just the right pool. Most thought we were going to buy the little plastic turtle one. We did not. We bought the 12 x 6 foot one that inflates and holds “One adult and four kids” according to Cruz (this theory was based only on the picture of the box).
The sun was blazing and soon the grill was fired up and ready to go. For the record I really need to invest in some BBQ utensils. The grill was a big Weber the only problem was that the bottom latch (where the holes need to be covered so the briquettes won’t burn so fast) was broken. I not only had to make sure the meat was turned over rather quickly but burned the tip of my fingers and some of my arm hair because we didn’t have anything long enough to turn the food with. I used a regular old kitchen fork. My poor arms are singed.
Our usual company showed up early and we put the beers to chill and broke out the cards to play on the table. It was a slow start but once it was on it was on. We played cards and drank beer and laughed and soaked in the sun. I was rather surprised when Cruz actually came out in shorts with long socks looking like a Mexican. It was a long full day of good company and good food (if I do say so myself).
I got a bad sunburn but it was worth it. I got drunk really, really fast because of the cleansing that I did and the special rice krispi that was provided. I think I was trying to convince everyone that I was straight. I do not think it worked. I also did some aerobics with one of the girls and my ass is sore today. It was hard keeping balanced and eventually I sat down. I attempted to play black jack but forgot how to add. I swear I won ever hand cause they always added up to twenty one. That was just the kind of day it was. I also saw the greatest impersonation of Mrs. Swan from MAD Tv. I don’t remember when I had laughed that hard. K you are the best!
I had so much fun. It felt good to have everyone around. The pictures are going to be amusing I’m sure. I’m going to look like a half burned stay-puff marshmallow man or woman in this case. I wore white wife beaters and white basketball shorts and since I am nice and round they will make for good laughs. I actually can’t wait to see them.
The kitchen is a mess. There are piles of dishes in the sink. Lots of empty beer bottles. My grilled corn which no one ate is in the oven. There are three Modelo’s left in my fridge which I am considering drinking tonight as I clean the mess up.
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| I am missing out on my life |
| 07.15.05 (2:22 pm) [edit] |
I was sucked in. I have been trying to make up for the mistakes I’ve made with the Dui’s for two years now. Really staying home and out of the scene. Staying home and not going out. Staying home and feeling sorry for myself. I was sucked into believing that because I was drinking I was wrong and that was the cause of it all. Then I realized today of all days in my very sick and heavy headed state of mind (cause I still have a very bad cold) that I can’t take it back. What’s done is done and the only one that’s really paying attention anymore is me.
Some times when the roommates come home from the club and the next morning they say “I shouldn’t have driven”. I can’t say anything. I am bound by the “You fucked up all ready can’t preach something you can’t practice” rule. Then I think. What the fuck. In the last two years the little social status I had built with Cruzando has faded into the distance.
**poof
Then I think I am 28 waiting around for someone to forgive me and the only one that can do that is me. Then I think well damn it I accepted my mistake a long time ago. I am no better and no worse than half the people out there my age. My punishment is the constant battering I give myself about how un-perfect I am. The constant “eat better” “don’t drink so much” “go to the gym” ….here’s a thought. Fuck it.
I will never be the J Lo of my world. Then I realize that I never cared about that shit before and when did I become obsessive about it anyway.
No, I have always been the single goofy ass girl with the smile.
Someone said something that caught my attention last week at the bar
My Macho Man Mexican was telling another customer how cute I was (which happens often at the gay bars) to which the costumer answers:
“I’m sure she has no issues with the ladies with that smile and those eyes.”
To which I answer, “Will you marry me?”
So I take this theory to another gay boy. He tells me “It’s the way you carry yourself. Like you have it all in place.”
Gotta love the gay boys. Both were not my roommates for the record. They were just boys from the bar. So today I was sitting here thinking about how drinking was not the problem. The problem was me. The problem is being comfortable in my own skin. The problem is being free enough to just be.
I haven’t had a drink since Monday not because I felt I needed to stop. I just wanted to see if it was that serious and it wasn’t. I didn’t sweat. I wasn’t moody. I didn’t drink Listerine or cold medicine. Today was the first day it crossed my mind that I wanted a beer. I won’t have it of course.
I’m over so many things. I was caught up in something that I safely made it out of. I’m going to live my life. My way.
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