Rug Burn
Good Morning. I can snark someone's wireless internet connection from the front porch between 9 and 11 am. I set my alarm for it sometimes. This gets sorta stressful because I bartend late nights and it's a task to pull myself out of bed before noon. All it takes is a call to the internet/cable guys but there's roommate politics involved. i.e. She told me she's not in a position right now to afford paying for half, and although I am probably in a position to afford paying for all of it, I just can't see her one day announcing "Okay, I'm ready to start paying for the cable/internet I've been using for free for the last six months."
Or maybe she would. I feel like I underestimate her sometimes. When I first moved back I talked a lot of shit about her. To anyone who would listen. I mean, I complained left and right and north and south about what is was like living with her. Mostly because she is ultimately the only person I've ever met who is messier than I am. And I've never met anyone who could even hold a candle to my disorganization and this broad sweeps by and gold medals me on it. Maybe because I am trying to get it together it bothered me more than it should, but I am not lying when I say that there was a refrigerator in the fucking living room when I moved in. And on top of that refrigerator was a pizza box. With remnants of pizza in it. From August 8th. I moved in on Valentines day.
But she truly is my saviour sometimes. I was in bad shape in January and this girl made sure I could eat, sleep and smile when I couldn't make it happen on my own. She is also the only one I know who would drop everything when I call to say that I'm bawling my eyes out at the coffee shop and I need a drink.
Tues. I was at Mokabes waiting before ballet class. Whatever I was writing made me start bawling like a kindergartner. It felt good, but would have been more effective, like, at home, in the bathtub. Not so much in public. Plus I lose my body weight in snot everytime I cry and I was running out of napkins.
We went to Riley's Irish Pub. I've lived in this neighborhood off and on for my entire apartment dwelling career and I never discovered this place until now. It's the worlds best neighborhood bar. They have my top three favorite beers, Jameson, a silverstrike game, and cheap gooey pizza. Needless to say I missed ballet, but I wouldn't have been very effective anyway.
Heidi left to go pack up the rest of her ex's stuff, most of which still lives with us even seven or eight months after he left. In continuation of my quest for free internet and to counteract the 239000 mg of caffeine in my body, I chased Aeric and Roxanne up and down the street to several different joints, ending up at the last place I wanted to be.
I haven't had the balls to face most of S. Grand since I've been home. There are times when I will walk 20 mins. out of my way to avoid walking past someplace. It's not that I'm avoiding anyone in particular. I just keep a kung fu grip on this technicolor vision of the past, where I'm in the most satisfying and comfortable place I'll ever be, and that I was truly and completely happy then. The other day I was at Lemon Grass ordering dinner to go, and this girl came in and stood next to me, also ordering. I knew she was someone I knew through Jimmy, but I couldn't remember how. I was paralyzed. I could not read the menu, so I just recited any number and hoped I didn't order tripe or something. It turns out she was a former coworker of his, whom I always liked alot, We talked until our food was up. Mine, shrimp with chow mein noodles. I really don't care for chow mein noodles, but it could have been much worse. I don't know what it is I'm so scared of. Some memory jumping out at me from around a corner reminding me how I once had what I wanted and how I fucked it all up. I know that wasn't true. I was almost entirely unhappy with the situation and that's why I needed to change everything, All at once. I consider myself a woman of reasonable intelligence, so I don't understand why I'm so terrified of something that never existed.
So I am amazed at the size of the balls I sprouted to walk into Mangia on a Tuesday night. Last year, I DJed tuesdays there. I went by pocketbomb. The place was filled with my friends and people I grew to love who I would never ever see except at Mangia on a tuesday night. The man I loved worked behind the bar. We would have dinner before hand and share a bottle of wine. I got free drinks and got to rock my records all night long. Afterwards I would help them shut down and me and J would sleep in together all day on Wednesday. I'm trying but I still cannot wrap my brain around the fact that I will never wake up there again.
I still saw little ghosty half images from those days running around, but I just drank more until they went away. Aeric is my manager at work, so I was in danger of getting plowed and telling him how much I hate that job. Especially since he says he really talked me up to the owners and did some serious finagling to get me on the bar staff full time. He is 100% my hero because I was completely penniless for a minute, and now I feel like I can hold my own financially like any other adult. I just can't bring myself to tell him that I can't stand the owners or the clientele.
I kept it under control until he walked in. He, being the biggest ghost of them all. I should have been more prepared for that, since I think he is technically still employed there, even though he never takes his shifts. He was meeting his friend in town, the one who does that skateboarding show in L.A. I went and said hi. We still talk. We even still do much more than talk sometimes, even as recently as this sunday. But difference between us now is that I am still nursing hope that someday everything will fix itself and be at least something similar to what I remember. So when I saw them leave without saying goodbye, I cracked up.
It appears I sent the following text messages, here reproduced, original spelling intact:
-Way to book it out of the parkin lot. you and all yr friends. Don't worry. I know it's over. I'll leave you alone. Have fun.
-I'm dead. croak. totally I'll nevr speak to you agai.
then...
-Just sio you know, yr that fat hairy guy that every girl tries to run away from. Way t be! rock ON!
-And for reeal. I'm leaving forever. you were my last love. Byr.
Oh, the drama. And way to seal the deal for good, chicky.
I don't remember who took me home, but I do remember we had a very heart warming conversation. Thank you, whoever you were.
Or maybe she would. I feel like I underestimate her sometimes. When I first moved back I talked a lot of shit about her. To anyone who would listen. I mean, I complained left and right and north and south about what is was like living with her. Mostly because she is ultimately the only person I've ever met who is messier than I am. And I've never met anyone who could even hold a candle to my disorganization and this broad sweeps by and gold medals me on it. Maybe because I am trying to get it together it bothered me more than it should, but I am not lying when I say that there was a refrigerator in the fucking living room when I moved in. And on top of that refrigerator was a pizza box. With remnants of pizza in it. From August 8th. I moved in on Valentines day.
But she truly is my saviour sometimes. I was in bad shape in January and this girl made sure I could eat, sleep and smile when I couldn't make it happen on my own. She is also the only one I know who would drop everything when I call to say that I'm bawling my eyes out at the coffee shop and I need a drink.
Tues. I was at Mokabes waiting before ballet class. Whatever I was writing made me start bawling like a kindergartner. It felt good, but would have been more effective, like, at home, in the bathtub. Not so much in public. Plus I lose my body weight in snot everytime I cry and I was running out of napkins.
We went to Riley's Irish Pub. I've lived in this neighborhood off and on for my entire apartment dwelling career and I never discovered this place until now. It's the worlds best neighborhood bar. They have my top three favorite beers, Jameson, a silverstrike game, and cheap gooey pizza. Needless to say I missed ballet, but I wouldn't have been very effective anyway.
Heidi left to go pack up the rest of her ex's stuff, most of which still lives with us even seven or eight months after he left. In continuation of my quest for free internet and to counteract the 239000 mg of caffeine in my body, I chased Aeric and Roxanne up and down the street to several different joints, ending up at the last place I wanted to be.
I haven't had the balls to face most of S. Grand since I've been home. There are times when I will walk 20 mins. out of my way to avoid walking past someplace. It's not that I'm avoiding anyone in particular. I just keep a kung fu grip on this technicolor vision of the past, where I'm in the most satisfying and comfortable place I'll ever be, and that I was truly and completely happy then. The other day I was at Lemon Grass ordering dinner to go, and this girl came in and stood next to me, also ordering. I knew she was someone I knew through Jimmy, but I couldn't remember how. I was paralyzed. I could not read the menu, so I just recited any number and hoped I didn't order tripe or something. It turns out she was a former coworker of his, whom I always liked alot, We talked until our food was up. Mine, shrimp with chow mein noodles. I really don't care for chow mein noodles, but it could have been much worse. I don't know what it is I'm so scared of. Some memory jumping out at me from around a corner reminding me how I once had what I wanted and how I fucked it all up. I know that wasn't true. I was almost entirely unhappy with the situation and that's why I needed to change everything, All at once. I consider myself a woman of reasonable intelligence, so I don't understand why I'm so terrified of something that never existed.
So I am amazed at the size of the balls I sprouted to walk into Mangia on a Tuesday night. Last year, I DJed tuesdays there. I went by pocketbomb. The place was filled with my friends and people I grew to love who I would never ever see except at Mangia on a tuesday night. The man I loved worked behind the bar. We would have dinner before hand and share a bottle of wine. I got free drinks and got to rock my records all night long. Afterwards I would help them shut down and me and J would sleep in together all day on Wednesday. I'm trying but I still cannot wrap my brain around the fact that I will never wake up there again.
I still saw little ghosty half images from those days running around, but I just drank more until they went away. Aeric is my manager at work, so I was in danger of getting plowed and telling him how much I hate that job. Especially since he says he really talked me up to the owners and did some serious finagling to get me on the bar staff full time. He is 100% my hero because I was completely penniless for a minute, and now I feel like I can hold my own financially like any other adult. I just can't bring myself to tell him that I can't stand the owners or the clientele.
I kept it under control until he walked in. He, being the biggest ghost of them all. I should have been more prepared for that, since I think he is technically still employed there, even though he never takes his shifts. He was meeting his friend in town, the one who does that skateboarding show in L.A. I went and said hi. We still talk. We even still do much more than talk sometimes, even as recently as this sunday. But difference between us now is that I am still nursing hope that someday everything will fix itself and be at least something similar to what I remember. So when I saw them leave without saying goodbye, I cracked up.
It appears I sent the following text messages, here reproduced, original spelling intact:
-Way to book it out of the parkin lot. you and all yr friends. Don't worry. I know it's over. I'll leave you alone. Have fun.
-I'm dead. croak. totally I'll nevr speak to you agai.
then...
-Just sio you know, yr that fat hairy guy that every girl tries to run away from. Way t be! rock ON!
-And for reeal. I'm leaving forever. you were my last love. Byr.
Oh, the drama. And way to seal the deal for good, chicky.
I don't remember who took me home, but I do remember we had a very heart warming conversation. Thank you, whoever you were.