you can tell me that it's wrong to feel
*Arachibutyrophobia
New York, New York oh how dirty and pretty and deliciously sinful you are. I could get high on the energy the place has; so rich and yet, depravity is everywhere you turn. It is in the beggar outside your hotel, outside the prestigious restaurant your colleague takes you to for breakfast. Hookers, dealers, pimps…they are your neighbors, your fellow line queuing person. Nothing seems sacred, not even the gift of sight.
After touch down I felt a bit queasy; I could not sit still on the plane and the option of “comfort” which is offered for a longer than 10 hours flight is laughable. Hence I stuck to the original plan - drink to feel better. It worked until I realized I had to sleep because we would be going to a conference and I’d have to stay at my colleague’s and make a semi decent impression on my boss and all that jazz y’know? Oh and if you ever wish to fly that distance, remember that jet lag pills are given to you to take after you get to the hotel, not before you go to work.
I met some really awesome people (who all think I’m Irish?), got checked out like I’m on sale and ate the best damn buffet ever. I could write more about how I nearly got thrown in jail for not putting both my hands on the steering wheel when the cop pulled me over, or how my “room mate” will not remember how she got that bruise (drinking with me can be hazardous - knocking furniture over will hurt you), but since I’m going back in December, I’m not fussed. It was and will be one on the most amazing places I’ve seen (albeit such a short stop) and I can’t wait to go back. Which reminds me, since it should be winter at that stage; I already found the perfect spot for a snowman hehe
I am thinking of moving in with Faye. Well, yes I’ve been keeping her around, not really speaking of her in fear of jinxing everything, but we’ve been on and off and sorta together for the last seven months or so. Rent will be hella cheaper and there is a room open I can use as an office…just an idea, as she would say. If it wasn’t just a sympathy case on both our parts for different reasons, maybe then I would not have hesitated to let E meet her. Also I feel that she does not really need to know anything - at all. Yes, so what I went to book club…I could not finish the wind up bird chronicle for it made mine eyes bleed! Wrong book, wrong time in my life; I want to read it, but not at present.
Okay. Maybe it was the sake. Or it could just be that I found out my family history and my past is not so kosher. At all. I had this tug of war going on inside of me about going to book club, but gave in when they were looking for people to drive. I detest driving long distances alone in the dark to places I’ve never been. After meeting with a few familiar faces and having a laugh, we headed off and got to meet with a girl I can only describe as intensely warm. I took enough food for an army with me, having Faye’s mom cook a batch of vegetarian chow for us.
E was last to arrive, looking tired and slightly apprehensive at the fact of seeing me there. Considering I dressed in a hurry; tank t and button up shirt style and did not blink when she appeared (although still pissed off at her) I guess I would be going ftw too. Every opportunity she could get, she used to try and pull information out and I just gave it…I could have kept quiet, but I didn’t. I wanted to see if she would react. I rubbed salt into her wounds by telling a lie and the explosion of (I must say) very well controlled anger from her side confirmed everything. Yup, she’s just as freaked out by meeting me after so much time as I am in seeing her again. But oh well, she’s dating a boy who is just as fucked in the head as most of my exes are and perhaps myself too…though I do and will say that I try to cope with my own shit.
So a short synopsis as to what has happened in the past month or so:
- J got engaged and I will be best man at his wedding
- I discovered that I had a twin sister and that most of the women in my family are still practicing black witches
- A ran away from rehab, made the front page news of a popular newspaper and is now at home
- I went to NYC, got a fat hangover, was groped in a local bar and had a blast at the conference
- P’s flat-mate (a recovering NA) has slipped and is now drinking himself into a coma again
- I’ve started doing regression therapy, a thing which I’m not too sure I wish to continue - sometimes, one is best off not remembering anything, at all.
My mission for this month? Ah I just want to settle into the flat and not think too much about anything at all. That would be nice n_n
* Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth.