Saturday, December 29, 2007

vegas baby!

Hi there folks. Sorry I've been so absent. My brother has been in town and I've been running all around getting drunk for a few days. We went to a strip bar last night. It was a special, family sort of moment. And right now we're here at the hovel getting ready for our trip to Vegas tomorrw. And my bro, who is very smart and helpful, has managed to load virtually ALL of the music in my possession onto my new iPod, despite the fact that I was having nothing but technical difficulties from the word go. In fact, I just put my earbuds in for the first time and I am now having my first iMusical experience. And it's cool.

I'll be back on Tuesday. And I'll tell you all about it. Ciao.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

romance interrupted

My brother Dave is here, which means Mahavira is not. And I miss her. Because I'm completely pathetic.

I can't really say anything else right now, we're going for sushi. I just wanted to say hi. Hi. :-)

Sunday, December 23, 2007

at least it's not another picture of mahavira

Here's a meme! Yay! Something to distract myself with! Here's what you do if you want to participate. Go through your archives and copy the first line of the first post for each month of 2007. Then share. Here are mine:

January: Last night I watched the movie Paper Chase for the first time.
February: I was really sad to see yesterday that spitfire, progressive journalist and general hell-raiser Molly Ivins has died of breast cancer.
March: I think I've used this one before, but it bears repeating.
April: When I worked for Algonquin, we published a book called Pretending the Bed is a Raft.
May:...sickly iris? Or big chunks of my brain??
June: I came to an unpleasant but not unexpected conclusion the other night.
July: Usually, I am a lazy slug.
August: Hello peoples. I'm hungover today.
September: Doesn't that look awesome?
October: Hi folks! Today I had half an emergency root canal!
November: It's National Blog Post Month.
December: My date with Mahavira last night ended this morning at 10:30am when I finally dragged my tremendously hungover ass out of her bed and down to the street.

And that about sums it up. Average Jane actually posted links to all her posts, but I'm too lazy. In fact, I'm even too lazy to post a link to Average Jane. (Unlike cool people with better web-browsers, when I access blogger via my Safari browser, there's no link button to make link creation simple. No, I have to input the html manually. And that sucks.)

No tags this time, but if you decide to do this yourself, let me know so I can check it out. Yay.

not so deadpan

Like an angel, this one. Another self-portrait from the Denmark photos. I'd take a picture of her myself, but it seems we're only ever in the dark...

Friday, December 21, 2007

UPDATE -- sereptitious: now with words

Introducing Mahavira.

I call this "Deadpan in Denmark." I kept harassing Mahavira to give me some pictures so I can sit at home and worship her when we're not hanging out. Much to my surprise, she gave me a whole zipdrive containing 400 pictures taken during a trip to Denmark. And while I believe Mahavira is gorgeous and intense, none of the pictures make me happy because she's taken them all herself, which means there are no really natural shots of her laughing or smiling or being pensive. She's got on her deadest deadpan face in almost every picture.

I call this post "sereptitious" because she doesn't know I've co-opted one of her pictures for use on my blog. Also because I like the word sereptitious. I want to post a thousand pictures of Mahavira, but I won't bore you. I'll be sparing. But first I want to take some pictures of her myself. The crazy thing about me and Mahavira is that we have the exact same eyes only hers are green and mine are blue. We will scare the world with the combined power of our cold, creepy eyes! I can't wait.

Ok, enough rambling about Mahavira. I'll try and keep myself in check around this issue. I just want you all to know, I'm totally crazy about this woman. That's all.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

the tide has shifted

Some thoughts in no particular order:

1.) After writing my whiny christmas post, I ended up feeling a lot better. I guess I just needed to purge. It's not that I'm totally in love with christmas all of a sudden, I just don't feel so traumatized. Thanks to those of you who posted sweet, supportive comments, although you guys are giving me too much reinforcement for my self-indulgence. You should be careful with that...

2.) Christmas started looking especially awesome today when I got a package in the mail from my mother containing an effing iPod nano. Not a shuffle. A nano. Being the techo-tard that I am, I didn't realize this was a good thing until I got to work and started talking about it. The peoples were impressed. And I am really impressed with my mom who may have made up for at least three or four years of childhood bullshit by sending me such an awesome gift. Even more astonishing, she sent a bunch of clothes... wait for it... THAT I ACTUALLY LIKE. That right there is a christmas miracle.

3.) My iPod glee quickly turned to frustration, angst and then gloom when I realized that my fancy new iPod is much, much fancier than my old, crankley iBook. In fact, in order to put songs on my fancy new iPod I will have to upgrade my operating system. That's a bummer and definitely delays my gratification but... fuck... I guess I've gone this long without a sleek, sexy little video-screen-having piece of expensive electronic equipment, a couple more weeks won't hurt me...

4.) Mahavira keeps me up nights... which is nothing but a good thing.

5.) Speaking of which, I was aggressively hit on last weekend at a Lesbian Breakfast Club function! I was shocked! Contrary to popular belief, I don't go around getting hit on left and right. In fact, I'm rarely hit on and much more often find myself in the (very comfy) role of the pursuer. I was absolutely shocked when this woman I'd only met once before practically crawled in my lap at a bar called Echo on MLK where we'd all met for drinks. It started out innocently enough -- she was sitting two seats down from me and we were having an interesting conversation. Suddenly she said to the person in between us "I'm sorry, I feel like I'm just yelling over top of you. I'll move." That's when she got up and dragged her chair IN BETWEEN me and the woman sitting next to me so that (ostensibly) we could carry on the conversation without trapping anyone in the middle. I tried to back my chair up a little to give her more room, but we were already crowded around the table and there was someone right next to me preventing my escape.

Not only did she stay right there, right in my lap until she left, she continued to engage me in conversation, looking at me with big huge doe eyes, laughing at everything I said, and touching me repeatedly. At first it was flattering, then amusing, then it was just obnoxious. She completely monopolized me and I had no idea how to tactfully back her off. I was glad that she and her friend were leaving early, I could finally breathe freely and start chatting with the rest of the ladies. It was so awkward and almost tacky, I desperately wanted to say something about it after she left. Something like, "What the fuck was that???" But I didn't.

I have to admit, though, that being flirted with like that (by a super-cute chick, no less) was pretty hypnotic. The more vodka-cran I drank, the more appealing the whole thing felt... until my good sense won out and I realized how cheap it all was. I looked into her big doe eyes, felt her knee against my leg and knew I could run with it if I wanted. She was practically throwing herself at me. And I bet it would've been fun... for, like, a minute. Then I would've looked up and wondered what the fuck I was doing. I don't even know that chick, I don't know anything about her, and making out with her would've been the equivalent of eating a whole pile of candy bars just because they were there. Gross.

Of course I told Mahavira all about it as soon as possible -- I had a huge urge to confess and I also had the tiniest desire to see if she'd get jealous. She did. Then I felt bad. But all my ridiculous drama aside, the bottom line is that I ultimately did not want to make out with that chick from the Breakfast Club and I feel strangely attached and dedicated to Mahavira in a way that shocks me, but nonetheless is real and true. She's such a powerhouse, such a fantasy, so compelling and interesting and passionate and fascinating... everybody else pales in comparison. Why waste my time. In short: Mahavira may be the only person on earth who could inspire in me a very congruent experience of monogamy. And that's saying something.

Monday, December 17, 2007

could'a been worse

As much as my many "christmas pasts" have made me wary of any "christmas futures," I have to say that my story doesn't seem so bad in comparison. For example, one of my ex's had an alcoholic dad. He came home drunk one christmas eve with a prostitute and then got into a huge fight with her mom and knocked the tree over. I mean... that's *really* effed up. Mine just sucked in a slow-burn sort of way. Kinda mundane, really.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

ok christmas, it's on

(Prepare yourself for heavy doses of self-indulgent whining.)

I'm ready to admit it. I hate christmas. I hate it. I'm listening to that effing christmas c.d. I bought a couple weeks ago. Back then I said it made me nostalgic, but now it makes me nauseated. NAUSEATED. The closer I get to christmas, the more christmas PTSD starts to surface.

I made several of my clients cry during writing group on Thursday by asking them to write about christmas. There was more to the prompt than that, but that was basically it. They cried like babies and they wouldn't share what they wrote with the group because it was too personal. This is evidence that christmas is an effed up holiday that causes lots of people nothing but misery.

Anyway, let's pretend we're in a 'christmas anonymous' meeting. Hi, my name is RPP, and I hate christmas. Here's my story... it's really not that bad, it could be worse, but it's mine and I guess that's all that matters. My parents split when I was three. My whole childhood I was a shuttlecock knocked back and forth between them. More or less battered by the whole experience. Mom got me by judicial decree and daddy wanted me, guilted me, begged me to come live with him, etc, etc. Why couldn't he have had the decency not to want me like 99% of the other dad's out there? Why couldn't he have left well enough alone in terms of custody? I was content to live with mom and visit him here and there. Why did he have to stage non-stop guilt assaults on me for the first eighteen or so years of my life? Fucking dick.

So, right, christmas. Christmas was the time of year when I got to shit on one or the other of my parents by choosing which parent I'd bless with my presence on christmas day. Why in god's name would any self-respecting adult force a kid to make that choice? Why not just let me stab one of you in the face each year? That would be just as painful for everyone concerned and it would be a lot less covert. I'd much prefer that the fucked up, sadisitic things we do to each other be right there on the surface for everyone to see.

So christmas would roll around it would be time for me to break somebody's heart. I never, ever wanted to go to my dad's for christmas. I fucking *hated* spending christmas there. I hated my stepmother, hated their house, hated having to be there for the whole christmas nightmare. I much preferred staying "home" with mom. Sure, I hated my stepfather too, but I had a much better working relationship with him (meaning, we ignored each other and generally avoided antagonizing each other). I also had a better relationship with my brother Dave. I mean, it was my *home* for christ's sake. My dad's house was this place I had to go (again, by judicial decree) at least twice a year. It wasn't a place I chose for myself. I didn't want to go, yet I chose to go there for christmas at least every other year (for equity's sake) just to keep him from feeling suicidal in my absence. I know that sounds extreme, but I had my reasons for feeling that way.

Oh christ, why am I whining about this? I'm telling you all why I hate christmas. I hate christmas because christmas sets unattainably high standards regarding happiness and togetherness and for all those hordes of us who fall on our faces during christmas, we're just left to feel like utter, miserable failures. My parents sucked the joy out of christmas by making me choose which one of them to hurt each year and now it's all ruined.

But that's not all. Later, when I was a teenager and my mom and stepdad were divorced and mom was this impoverished single mother in constant danger of losing everything because we were so poor, christmas became this terrible pressure-cooker for all of us: mom had no money, mom felt like she had to give us this big christmas, she couldn't, she was depressed about it, she was mean about it, she was absent, etc, etc ad nauseum.

It was my job (self-appointed) to decorate. From fourteen to eighteen, if I wanted christmas, I was the one who crawled into the back of the closets to find the big fake tree and all the decorations, I was the one who put it all up, all by myself, who arranged the knick-knacks and lit the lights and trimmed the tree. All by myself. No togetherness, no joy. Just lights and knick-knacks and really depressing hopes.

Oh for fuck's sake, it was all just miserable! So I sit here now and listen to this fucking c.d. -- the best is "I'll be home for christmas, if only in my dreams." What cognitive dissonance! Being home for christmas is supposed to be something you long for, but jesus help me, being home for christmas is the worst thing I can imagine. All the nostalgia I felt two weeks ago has just crumbled like one of those high-rise buildings that has just been imploded, and all the debris has fallen on top of my head, a thousand tons of guilt and bad memories. Please come January!!! Save me from all this awful, miserable christmas!!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

brain goo

It was bound to happen. Things with Mahavira are kind of making me crazy. She's awesome, hot, brilliant and insanely compelling... but the logistics are total crap. I get off work at midnight and take the bus over to her house (more nights than not). We sit up on her loveseat smoking pot and drinking beer and having long, crazy talks about all sorts of shit until about 2 or 2:30, then we begin to stumble towards the bed. There are bed-appropriate activities. And then there is sleep, somewhere between 3:30 and 4. Then there is waking, somewhere between 9:30 and noon. All the windows have been covered with thick blankets and only the slimmest glimmer of light leaks through. She makes really good tea and we sit on the bed and drink it in the dark until one of us has to leave. It's strange how our whole relationship is evolving in the dark -- we'll end up like crazy cave-moles with no eyes and iridescent skin.

On the one hand this is all very magical and sweet. All the darkness and the intensity. On the other hand, jesus christ I'm sleep deprived! By the end of the week I'm a doddering maniac (thanks to Joolie for putting the word "doddering" on the tip of my tounge). And as alluring as the pot is after a long night at work, pot makes my brain unhappy and confused. My already loose grasp of the space-time continuum gets looser and I get relationally paranoid. It's not that fun. On top of all that, I'm losing very valueable ME-time on the days after. Waking at noon is all fine and good OCCASIONALLY, but this is not a lifestyle I'm prepared to maintain. I like to get up around 8 or 8:30, drink my coffee, check my email, take a hot bath, read a book, yadda yadda etc, all before I have to pack myself off to work at 4.

I think it's time for me to draw the line. I have to let the Mahavira know that this lifestyle is temporary. And maybe next week I'll pull the reins in a bit, sleep at my own house more, etc. It's going to be difficult to navigate a relationship with the Mahavira with all these time-constraints, but maybe I'll get that day job I've got my eye on... that might help. Otherwise, I'm going a little crazy here and I'm starting to not enjoy it...

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

how to break your internet habit, in three unrelated steps

1.) Burn yourself out on daily posting for NaBloPoMo.

2.) Make sure your best-friend/ex-gf in England doesn't get internet installed in her flat so you can no longer hope for daily emails and Skype chats.

And finally, best of all, 3.) Go crazy for some woman who rarely sits herself down at a computer and doesn't consider email to be a primary mode of communication.

I'm listening to my one c.d. of Christmas music. It kinda sucks. I'm trying to kindle some Christmas spirit, but I'm just not feeling it. What's the opposite of a delayed reaction? Because that's what I tend to have for holidays, even Halloween, my favorite. I get the spirit about a month too soon, by the time the holiday itself rolls around I don't seem to care anymore. Oh well. I hate the fucking holidays anyway. Sorry. I know I posted about nostalgia and stuff last time, but as the actual holiday gets closer, all the Christmas-PTSD starts kicking in... so... (shudders)... January will be here soon.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

lovely lovely

It was a lovely day. I woke in my own bed for a change, after a solid night's sleep which felt great except I still groped around for Mahavira and felt confused and a little sad when I woke up enough to remember where I was. I was home and Mahavira was at her own house, waking up with her straight "friend in crisis" who came over last night to try and decide whether or not to leave her boyfriend. I hung around awhile listening to it all and I don't think she's going to. And she shouldn't, in my opinion, he sounds like a good guy.

Anyway, I got up myself up this morning and made coffee and started downloading the SantaCon pictures off my camera when Leo called and invited me to brunch. I'd already invited her to brunch yesterday, but she was noncommital, so I'd written her off and forgotten about it. She called and said she and Ember were going to brunch whether I came or not, was I interested? Of course. She and Ember broke up but got back together and are now playing it like a couple of 12-steppers: they're taking it day by day. Sounds reasonable.

I agreed to go and then swung open my front door to check the weather and plan my wardrobe. I froze in my tracks and my mouth made that classic, cartoon "O" -- it was snowing. I said, "Holy shit," which is the only thing I can think to say sometimes, and this time it meant "this is so exciting!" But it was too early to be so excited and anyway, snow does tend to feel sort of holy to me, so hushed and lovely.

Leo and Ember picked me up ten minutes after they called and Leo drove us to Junior's in SE where the line was deceptively small-looking. We were sixth on the list, but considering they've only got about ten tables in the whole place, it wasn't like the line was moving at anything but a glacial pace. Leo forced an overworked, harried server to give her a cup of coffee, then we took a very long walk through the neighborhood. It was crisp and grey and the snow fell lightly and stuck in our hair and on our jackets like ephemeral confetti. Leo and Ember are plant people. They dissected and critiqued everyone's front yard flora while I stood and marvelled at the snow.

Eventually we made it back to the restaurant, we ate a mediocre meal and as we were leaving I managed to talk Leo into agreeing to make me a scarf. I'm sick of the blue fleece scarf I've been wearing for two years now. I generally hate synthetic materials anyway and I've been planning to replace this scarf with a nice wool one for awhile, I just hadn't gotten around to it. Leo, a passionate knitter, attacked the plan with gusto and immediately dragged me (and an unexcited Ember) to two different knitting stores to help me pick out the appropriate yarn. I chose a soft, tweedy wool of a lovely, warm, verigated green variety. Varigated is probably not the right word, it implies a pattern of changing color. This wool was mostly green, with flecks of other colors, brighter green, orange, the occasional pink, teal. But mostly, mostly that warm, olivey green. I can't wait to have it around my neck.

Now many hours have passed. I've done laundry, run errands, had my daily, piping-hot bubblebath (because I'm a princess), posted SantaCon pictures, meditated/chanted for almost an hour, folded and put away my laundry, lit the menorah, watered the plants that needed it, and read some of a very bizarre book... and now I'm going to head over to Mahavira's house. She gets off her shift at 11 and I'll be there in the window of Mississippi Pizza again, just like I was last Sunday night, drinking a beer, reading a book, waiting for her.

christmas meets utter debauchery

This is how I spent my yesterday: SantaCon 2007.

On the waterfront. "Red rover, red rover, send Santa on over!"

Thirty-three years on this earth and this is my first jello-shot. Commando Santa says: how am I supposed to eat this?

Assless chaps never looked so good on Santa.

Nice belt.

Tranny Santas in love. So sweet.

This one kinda speaks for itself I guess.

Such an innocent tree there in Pioneer Courthouse Square. You'd never guess what was going on under it's peaceful branches.



Thursday, December 06, 2007


I realized tonight at work that I am suffering from chronic sleep deprivation. I feel like someone has replaced my brain with a big, square block of tofu. Which was a bummer at work because it was actually a difficult sort of night and I had to manage lots of weird things, including kicking a really big drunk guy out of the building who was demanding that we put him up in a hotel because he couldn't stay in a shelter. Too bad for you, buddy. Get out. I'm surprised I could string sentences together, but I managed to get him out the door.

Anyway, ramble-ramble, four out of the past six nights I've slept (I should say "slept") at Mahavira's house. What in god's name has come over me? This is completely unprecedented. I don't even want to talk about it. I don't know what to say! It's crazy. I just can't stay away from her. And it's weird because in this not-quite-a-week that I've known her, it seems I only see her in the dark. Mostly I come to her apartment late at night (after work for either of us), then we spend hours and hours in the dim light talking and talking and rolling around and eventually sleeping. Then we wake in darkness because the morning light hardly creeps in, and we start the talking and sometimes the rolling around all over again and, I don't know, I guess I've been getting about four or five good hours of sleep every night...

Which is awesome, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I feel like my life has been taken over by benevolent aliens and I hardly recognize it anymore, but it's really, really fun. The aliens brought me the most interesting, unexpected playmate. But it's a little frightening really. And I think I have to stop blogging about it because this feels like the wrong medium for sorting it out. But thanks for sticking with it so far. I'm sure I'll offer occasional updates.

Oh! And happy third night of Hannukah. Shalom.

P.S. As I finished this post I got a text message. Fully expecting it to be from Mahavira, who texts me randomly when we're not hanging out, I was quite shocked... and then not shocked at all... to see that it was from Dree! "Playing pin-ball... thinking of you..." Oh Dree. Poor Dree. I'm afraid that ship has sailed, sweetheart. Oh well.


A small candle will burn itself down to nothing. The last bit of flame will linger just a moment longer than you think possible, then it will wink out. In that moment, a wisp of smoke will emerge from the still glowing tip of the wick like a soul leaving a body. Only in a small candle, the wisp rises maybe a foot, and then there is a definite end. Another wink, the smoke is gone. The candle has given up the ghost.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

you just never know

I went to see Mahavira Sunday night. I showed up at Mississippi Pizza at 10:30, got myself a Pabst and went over to sit in the window and read my book until she showed up. I'm still reading "Lady Chatterly's Lover" -- I'll probably finish it today -- what a fantastic, sexy book! What a good time for me to be reading it!

A faint stirring out the window caught my eye and I looked out and saw a dog, the dog, the dog Mahavira rescued and is taking care of temporarily until she finds it a home. For a lingering moment I stared at the dog and thought Mahavira must be nearby -- I was startled when I finally raised my eyes and saw her face, glowing white in the darkness around her, right there not two feet away from me, staring at me through the glass.

Mahavira is so gorgeous that it's actually a little shocking to look at her sometimes. She has full, curly black hair and piercing, pale green eyes in an otherwise completely perfect face, but its her ease and confidence that makes her most attractive. I looked up and she was staring at me through the window with a tiny smile and a little jolt went through me. That was at 11:09pm.

At 1:30pm the next day I managed to leave her house. I was not hungover this time, but I was weak. I'd slept, fortunately, and had good dreams in and amongst everything else. And eventually I had the best black tea. Mahavira grew up on a commune, her family followed an Indian guru and her dad now owns property in India. She's been to India many times and heavilly identifies with Indian culture which you can partly see in her double nose piercing and also her attachment to really good tea.

Gully is disappearing into the ethers. On further reflection, and after some really weird conversations, I've started to realize that she's a very Leonine Leo and this whole little thing we were doing was always all about her. I began to suspect something like this when she was texting me that first weekend -- all those texts and after awhile I realized how completely narcissistic they were. They had nothing to do with me, they were all about her reveling in her own experience. Which is fine for her, I'm just not interested in being involved. And I think Mahavira will be keeping me busy for awhile anyway.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

it's beginning to look a lot like

Christmas is everywhere. It comes no matter what. It comes whether or not you've been thinking about it, whether or not you're ready, whether or not you're even interested. It comes even if you hate it and wish it wouldn't come. It comes and you can't hide from it. It's right there, everywhere you go. The merchandise is all over every store: red stockings, poinsettias, shiny, plastic balls, fake trees, garland, racks of Christmas c.d.s by people like Alabama and Christina Aguilera. The decorations are up, even on houses in my hip neighborhood. And the music. If you can blind yourself to all the other shit, the music will get you. It will go right inside your head and you won't be able to stop it.

I didn't even try to fight it. I bought Bing Crosby's White Christmas at Fred Meyer today and I'm listening to it right now. May as well. Try as I might, this was my background, my upbringing, my "tradition" if you can call it that. This is my "culture" for lack of a better word. And the songs resonate in a weird place that is usually so small and quiet and hardly known. So "Adeste Fideles" comes on and some weird little place swells up and sings along "Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant, oh come ye oh come ye to Bethlehem."

Why does that tiny place in my heart have to sing for something I can't intellectually tolerate? Why does it have to rear up now when I have no outlet to plug it into? I'm not a Christian, I don't believe Jesus Christ died so I would be forgiven for my sins, I don't even believe there *was* a person named Jesus Christ who's mom rode a donkey to Bethlehem and gave birth in a manger under a particularly majestic star. I don't know what to do with the strange, heart-bursting feelings of nostalgia I get from these songs other than feel them and move on.

Christmas makes me feel like buying presents. For myself. So I went shopping today and bought myself some new jeans and a sweater from the Buffalo Exchange, a new plant from Fred Meyer, and some groceries from Trader Joe's. I thought about buying some decorations: maybe some lights or something, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I have to take a few passes at committments like this before I can make it stick. I'll probably get something in a few days, once the idea has had a chance to settle in on me. I wouldn't even bother, but my brother might be coming and I guess I don't want the house to feel barren at Christmas. Not that my house feels barren. My house is warm and cluttered and full of plants. But you know. Decorations are different.

I looked for a c.d. of Hannukah music but couldn't find one. Which made me start thinking about how completely ridiculous it is that we're not supposed to say "Merry Christmas" at work, we're supposed to say "Happy Holidays," but which holidays are supposed to be happy? Hannukah? Kwanzaa? Ask anybody on the street when either Hannukah or Kwanzaa actually occur and come back and tell me how many people can answer correctly. Can you answer correctly? No. Sorry. The "holidays" in question are one holiday: Christmas. And Christmas Eve. And maybe New Year's but that's another story. The music in the stores isn't Hannukah or Kwanzaa music, it's Christmas music. Those are Christmas lights in the windows, Christmas decorations all over. It's the height of absurdity to force us to say happy holidays when everybody knows we're talking about Christmas.

Because you know, ultimately, Christmas is a completely schizophrenic holiday. It has multiple personality disorder. For some people Christmas is this holy day when Jesus is supposed to have been born. But for a lot of other people (probably a lot *more* people) Christmas is a secular "holiday" featuring Santa, some reindeer, stockings, a decorated tree and, above all, presents. So, you know, fuck it. If I celebrate "Christmas" it'll be the secular Santa holiday that I remember from childhood. And if I light the menorah during Hannukah, it'll be for SK and because I love the lights and the ritual. And frankly, I don't know anything about Kwanzaa, so I won't even pretend.

just because

Isn't this gorgeous? It's from the Dia De Los Muertos festival in Tucson. Wings just sent it to me. Such incredible women I've had in my life.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

hangover interrupted

I went out with Leo tonight. She called to see if I wanted to get together and she sounded down. I was still feeling hungover and had been in my pajamas all day, but I was excited to see Leo so I got up and put some pants on and headed over to the Bye and Bye on Alberta. She bought me a gingerale with bitters (good for the hangover) and we sat at the same table Gully and I sat at on our date on the 16th.

I told her all about my date with Mahavira (Leo had a fling with Mahavira years ago, when I first moved to town, and it was through Leo that Mahavira first showed up on my radar) and she told me all about how she and her g/f Ember were finally calling it quits. I'm so hung up on Mahavira, I didn't even get excited about the prospect of Ember being back on the market! Isn't that incredible?

And then, in the midst of our conversation, I got a text from Mahavira: I don't think I can wait until next Friday to see you. Only she didn't say "see you" she said something slightly more explicit that I will not write here in order to spare your delicate sensibilities. After a flurry of texts, it's settled. I'm meeting her after work tomorrow at 11pm. I'm crazy. I know. I can't help it. This time I won't get so fucked up. This time I'll keep my head and my health and I'll enjoy every minute.

Can't. Wait.

an incredible string of good fortune

My date with Mahavira last night ended this morning at 10:30am when I finally dragged my tremendously hungover ass out of her bed and down to the street. It was a gorgeous morning and I felt more peaceful walking the five blocks from her apartment over top Mississippi Pizza to my car down on Shaver than I did during the whole hangover. It was grey, crisp, damp but not raining. Mississippi was abuz with morning people. I longed to duck in (or climb up) to Muddy's Coffeehouse which I passed on my way, to sit in the gray morning and sip a nice Americano with a bunch of strangers, but the thought of coffee or anything else made my stomach churn and my head spin, so I walked on by.

I finally made it home and found my landlord raking the leaves off my stairs, the two boys all bundled and "helping" nearby. It was probably pretty obvious that I was just dragging in from last night's activities as I stood there in my rumpled, smoky clothes and my bedhead, making the chit-chat and thanking him for cleaning the leaves off my steps. Oh well. I'm an adult, I suppose it's not particularly shocking.

I came in and collapsed into bed, having forgotten my cell phone in my car. I woke some time later, no idea how long I'd been asleep, and forced myself up, into some clothes and out to my car to check for texts from Mahavira. There were two. They were good. Mahavira is good. My date with Mahavira was really, really good. Wow. I thought Gully was awesome, Mahavira makes Gully look dull and unispired. Which is saying a lot because Gully was pretty inspired. But Mahavira... well... she's another story.