eight days ago, he brought me a cup of water with ice when i was sitting on the dead cigarette-covered floor, shaking and convulsing. he tried to focus his attention elsewhere, but watched my hand quiver from the corner of his eye. the antithesis of the leech who refills the empty glass of beer, he refills my cup of water, like it's some elixir that will magically heal me.
four months later, i allow myself to be enveloped in his room, never leaving, for a week. rhythmic typing, clatter, until he grabs my nalgene bottle and we rent a rowboat. we lay on our backs in the bottom of the boat, ignoring the dirt and water that trickle in, looking up at the sky, rocking in the waves, until night. it would have cost us $100 to return the boat, so we pulled it up onto the beach and left, running along the shore. it was only my driver's license, i need a new one, anyway.
three months before this, i killed myself with the remnants of medication from a knee injury. painkillers. it doesn't make any sense to him; he visits one last time, picking through my belongings, deciding to keep the frogs, the care bears, and when he's looking through old photographs, another man arrives. "i told her to wait a year" he says, distraught, but then he explains "i don't think it was the same thing." they pick and choose my belongings, courteous and succinct with who will get what, here, you take this cowboy hat, and this picture frame. they were yours, anyway.
a month later, i see him at the airport. he's drinking water, he gets in my car and we open the sunroof and listen to gomez, he hates gomez, and turns off the music. he asks what i'm doing here, but he isn't surprised to see me. we had planned this, like this, all along, and we get away with it.
tomorrow, i will fill my claw-foot bathtub with steaming water and light candles, and make sense of everything that's happened, and that will soon happen. my assistant will bring me pages to read while i soak, i'll apply my toenail polish and call for gin and tonic. he'll be nearby, burning the edges of his papers with his cigarettes, which he swears he wants to stop smoking, but doesn't. he complains to himself softly that i should be with him, forgetting that i'm just across the way. he looks at the photographs on his walls; "in each one, she looks so different," he thinks to himself, and he can't remember when they were taken.
this morning i was headed to the bathroom, which is out by the elevators in my office building and a woman came running down the hall sloshing a large mug of coffee. the elevator door closed just before she got to it to get her foot in and make it open again..she then lunged for the button..but too late. the elevator had already begun its downward trek. the woman then yelled "Shit!" and turned around to eye anyone who was in the hall. there was only me. in an effort to console this mad woman who was glaring at me through squinty little rat eyes i said "hey...dont worry..it will come back up". her whole body seemed to stiffen in a fit of apocalyptic rage when she realized i had spoken to her. so i hurried towards the bathroom...the closest escape...10 feet...5 feet...almost there...crash! SpLaTteR! hot coffee running in murky rivulets down the bathroom door... i glanced over my shoulder as i dashed through the doorway and saw the demon lady disappearing through the stairwell door.
not a day goes by when i don't think of a rabbit, and the things i could lay on its head. i want a rabbit, i want a rabbit, i want a rabbit, but brandon says no. i want a rabbit! every day i look back at that post, and i want a rabbit. look what you've done to me.....i can't concentrate at work, i can't sleep at night, i can't think of anything else......this is all loren's fault.
I just woke up from a vivid dream...
In the beginning, I was talking with my dad, I can't remember what about. My mom was redecorating the bathroom downstairs in my parents house. I went down there while it was in progress, and it was real weird and kitschy with like these random bead curtains draped, and two vintage bathroom cabinets on the wall. I decided to fill them full of soaps for guests.
I left the bathroom and went into the yard, and talked to my mom for a minute. I thought about making a cool whip jello pie for Chris, and needing to go to Safeway. Then one of the patients from my job came out of the new bathroom saying something. I went in and looked at the cabinets and there were all these weird vintage lotions and soaps in them, like in 70s cardboard boxes, kind of discolored and greasy. I thought about stealing them for a minute, then I left the bathroom and talked about it's groovy new decour with a fat white man. I went outside and I was in the safeway parking lot. I wanted to make the pie but I realized that I was already 10 minutes late to meeting Chris and I couldn't make a pie and drive home in time. The parking lot was extremely windy, and so I rode around in a shopping cart, propelled in circles by the wind.
As I was about to crash into a curb, Angele called and woke me.
Afterward, I looked at the clock, and I was indeed 10 minutes late calling Chris.
PS. Mastodon plays the Ottobar Thursday night. Mannekin, Chris Taylor (pg99)s rock band, plays in Sunday.
I've been to NYC 6 time in the past 6 years, 4 times to visit either Mariela & Nathan, or Hannah & Channing & Kami, or any combination of these amazing people. But neither my brother nor my parents had ever been to NYC, so I took them sightseeing during the first couple of days of my annual pilgrimage to NYC.
We did F.A.O. Schwarz, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Saks Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Center, and Central Park on Friday afternoon, Empire State Building on Friday night, Korean at Mandoo Bar (in Koreatown) for dinner. The United Nations on Saturday morning, Japanese for lunch, then subway downtown and Greenwich Village, Washington Square, SoHo, and Chinatown during the afternoon, dinner with Hannah and Mariela in Little Italy that evening. Then back to the hotel (34th and 7th) for 11pm, grab my luggage and say good bye to the folks.
Hike it over to Mariela's (1st and 33rd) with luggage in tow. Hannah and her roommie return from Brooklyn apartment as we're still getting dressed, Bea shows up next. Totally forget to call Kami and tell her about the change of plans. All five of us pile into a cab and head to Chelsea Piers, for "Neon" themed private party on the Frying Pan (boat). Lots of neon clothes and fabulous people, 80's retro and very gay house. Dance like mad until 2:45am, then decide to move to Tiswas.
Hail cab, Hannah's roommie bails out on us. Have a fabulous time at Tiswas, music greater than ever, dance like mad, get invited to private party by DJ for the following weekend (sucks that I won't be able to make it). Bea and Mariela start showing signs of fatigue around 5:30am, so we head home. Bea splits and head to her apartment in Chinatown - something important to do on Sunday. Hannah, Mar and I all head back to Mar's and talk until the sun comes up. We squeeze in a few hours of sleep and we're all up by 10am. Hannah heads back home to change, and after we all enjoy a fabulously refreshing shower we meet up at Organic Grown for a 2pm veggie breakfast. The tofu scramble I had was good, but a little too greasy for my taste. We shop a little in Soho, Channing meets up with us, pulls a prank on me. Mariela buys red & yellow Pony sneakers. Hannah and Channing split, we say good bye, exchange hugs and kisses. Mar and I ride the subway back to hers, then we chat some more until I'm late for meeting the folks. I hike it back to the hotel full-speed, get there a few minutes after they'd called Mariela's. I barely have time to drop my luggage that we're back out the door for dinner, Haaggen Daaz, and a movie. Get back to the hotel and crash.
Wake up at 8:30am Monday morning, and pack all the luggage in the car. Run over to Macy's to check out the Flower Show and then we're off, on our way back to Montreal. Get home to an overflowing inbox and an empty refrigerator at 7:30pm. I'm so glad I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow!
