Friday, November 19, 2004
Perspective
Every afternoon this week found me at the counter of the local health food store, a package of "soy enriched" donuts in my hand. Yesterday I commented to the owner, an elderly East Indian gentleman, that him having these donuts in his store was dangerous.
"No," he said in his heavily accented Englilsh. "A gun - it is dangerous. These donuts? Not dangerous - delicious!"
"You're right," I answered him, "I guess we really do need to call things properly."
|
Every afternoon this week found me at the counter of the local health food store, a package of "soy enriched" donuts in my hand. Yesterday I commented to the owner, an elderly East Indian gentleman, that him having these donuts in his store was dangerous.
"No," he said in his heavily accented Englilsh. "A gun - it is dangerous. These donuts? Not dangerous - delicious!"
"You're right," I answered him, "I guess we really do need to call things properly."
|
Monday, November 15, 2004
I'm not supposed to blog about it. I'm not supposed to talk to my friends about it (except for one or two approved ones). But something has gone terribly wrong. He kissed someone right after he said he was falling in love with me, then when he went to Paris, was surprised and then angry that I was worried he might do it again. I said "I don't think I can be your girlfriend - we can't even talk about it in a calm way." And now we are broken up and it's my fault. All my fault. That I couldn't let it go. I might have to delete this post soon. I just can't figure out how we went from bliss to nothing so fast.
|
|
Monday, November 08, 2004
Vixen
I wasn't too excited about Halloween this year. I felt kind of lazy. I thought I'd throw a costume together at the last minute - I didn't have any exciting ideas or anything.
I went to a friend's house early Friday night to watch "El Corona del Fer" - an old Italian movie about a warrior princess and a good princess. I was tired afterwards, but I thought if I didn't go to a party I'd feel sorry for myself later for not having enough fun! So I threw on a little black wig, red silk nightgown, and tied a red scarf over my head. I didn't know what I was, exactly - a Saudi Arabian little red ridinghood? A young Cleopatra? Did it matter? No.
The night started well - I got into the party for free because I knew the guy at the door - an old roommate of Ramon's. As he stamped my hand he said "Darling, if you ever go brunette, definitely give me a call." I wandered through the hundreds of costumed people in the restaurant, and found my friends at the back. "Why are you here?" I asked the gypsy and cat and normal person. "There's too many people near the dj," they said. So I elbowed my way alone to the center of the action, found a sweet spot, and started dancing.
A woman, pulling her boyfriend along behind her, came over to me and asked if I was local, and if I was interested in modeling jewelry for her. She asked if I would accept jewelry as payment. Of course I would! Then I realized she didn't know what I normally looked like, so I wrote down my website so she could see what I looked like without the wig.
I danced with a Russian violin player dressed as a vampire. We jived it up. His wife, a very drunk and beautiful opera singer, danced with me for a minute and then ran her fingernails up the back of my leg. Oh mercy! If only she hadn't been drunk, I would have been rather flattered. As it was, her eyes could barely focus.
Hunter S. Thompson asked me if I had seen a spaceman, as the spaceman was his ride home. I didn't know if he was joking or not, but guessed he was and answered philosophically. We talked for a bit until his lawyer found him and said it was inadvisable to continue talking. I told him that dancing could fix anything and he worried too much.
The party ended - a man on a flying carpet won the prize for best costume. I was still jazzed up, high on dark chocolate, and I felt chatty. I didn't want the fun to end. Everyone was going to a local bar, a sort of seedy place with a reputation for easy pick ups, but I wasn't ready to go home, so I asked Dr. Feelgood, another friend of Ramon's, if he wanted to ride there with me. He said sure, he just needed to go get his Dirty Ho'. He came back with his garden tool, complete with dirt, and we left.
I took my wig off so my head could breathe. We got to the bar and I felt so out of place - my blonde hair felt like it was glowing, and my makeup at this point was no longer where it started out. My long silk red dress and black fur coat were very dramatic in comparison with everyone else's costume: jeans and flannel shirts. I was asked if I needed anything at least 20 times by 20 different fellows, and I finally asked for a diet sprite to be friendly. When I took my coat off, someone was there to assist. I sat on a stool near the pool table, and anytime someone made a shot, they would say, "See, the pretty lady brought me luck!" with a big grin under a moustache.
The bar closed, and we all stood around on the porch chatting. I saw an old friend, and she and I chatted for a while. Her roommate's best friend is a ballet dancer near Paris, and he insisted on giving me her address so I could look her up. "Une chere amie," he said. The bartender bustled by me, and on his way back asked "What were you supposed to be?" I answered, "Well, earlier I had a black wig on, so..." and he interrupted, "Oh, I get it. A vixen!"
Oh, I suppose. :)
|
I wasn't too excited about Halloween this year. I felt kind of lazy. I thought I'd throw a costume together at the last minute - I didn't have any exciting ideas or anything.
I went to a friend's house early Friday night to watch "El Corona del Fer" - an old Italian movie about a warrior princess and a good princess. I was tired afterwards, but I thought if I didn't go to a party I'd feel sorry for myself later for not having enough fun! So I threw on a little black wig, red silk nightgown, and tied a red scarf over my head. I didn't know what I was, exactly - a Saudi Arabian little red ridinghood? A young Cleopatra? Did it matter? No.
The night started well - I got into the party for free because I knew the guy at the door - an old roommate of Ramon's. As he stamped my hand he said "Darling, if you ever go brunette, definitely give me a call." I wandered through the hundreds of costumed people in the restaurant, and found my friends at the back. "Why are you here?" I asked the gypsy and cat and normal person. "There's too many people near the dj," they said. So I elbowed my way alone to the center of the action, found a sweet spot, and started dancing.
A woman, pulling her boyfriend along behind her, came over to me and asked if I was local, and if I was interested in modeling jewelry for her. She asked if I would accept jewelry as payment. Of course I would! Then I realized she didn't know what I normally looked like, so I wrote down my website so she could see what I looked like without the wig.
I danced with a Russian violin player dressed as a vampire. We jived it up. His wife, a very drunk and beautiful opera singer, danced with me for a minute and then ran her fingernails up the back of my leg. Oh mercy! If only she hadn't been drunk, I would have been rather flattered. As it was, her eyes could barely focus.
Hunter S. Thompson asked me if I had seen a spaceman, as the spaceman was his ride home. I didn't know if he was joking or not, but guessed he was and answered philosophically. We talked for a bit until his lawyer found him and said it was inadvisable to continue talking. I told him that dancing could fix anything and he worried too much.
The party ended - a man on a flying carpet won the prize for best costume. I was still jazzed up, high on dark chocolate, and I felt chatty. I didn't want the fun to end. Everyone was going to a local bar, a sort of seedy place with a reputation for easy pick ups, but I wasn't ready to go home, so I asked Dr. Feelgood, another friend of Ramon's, if he wanted to ride there with me. He said sure, he just needed to go get his Dirty Ho'. He came back with his garden tool, complete with dirt, and we left.
I took my wig off so my head could breathe. We got to the bar and I felt so out of place - my blonde hair felt like it was glowing, and my makeup at this point was no longer where it started out. My long silk red dress and black fur coat were very dramatic in comparison with everyone else's costume: jeans and flannel shirts. I was asked if I needed anything at least 20 times by 20 different fellows, and I finally asked for a diet sprite to be friendly. When I took my coat off, someone was there to assist. I sat on a stool near the pool table, and anytime someone made a shot, they would say, "See, the pretty lady brought me luck!" with a big grin under a moustache.
The bar closed, and we all stood around on the porch chatting. I saw an old friend, and she and I chatted for a while. Her roommate's best friend is a ballet dancer near Paris, and he insisted on giving me her address so I could look her up. "Une chere amie," he said. The bartender bustled by me, and on his way back asked "What were you supposed to be?" I answered, "Well, earlier I had a black wig on, so..." and he interrupted, "Oh, I get it. A vixen!"
Oh, I suppose. :)
|
