can i just say...?
that i had the most crazy, nice night?
why, yes, yes i can.
because i'm not ready for bed yet (because there's nothing there but empty, leaky-diaper sheets. and two cats. but only if i'm lucky.) and there are too many words running around in my head.
okay.
so the night went into two pieces.
just like the "schizophrenic second."
whose campaign i might be managing.
fuckin-ah.
do i really want to get into that crazy politicko game again?
fuck.
as i told my mentor post-two-cocktails-post-two-glasses-of-pinot-post-yet-another-dinner-on-the-rubber-chicken-circuit:
"well, i would kind of like to work in a place where i can walk around without shoes and not care if my tattoes are hanging out." (like i do at my current job. the weirdo art place. and, eventually, that's what it's going to come down to: a choice between two loves. art&politicks. it's gonna be a hard one. but, as she said: "there's more money in politics." yeah. but do i wanna be stressed out not being able to pay my bills/rent/food/gas, but still have some sort of a life. (art) or do i wanna be stressed out like a fuckin' maniac working a gazillion hours a week but wearing really nice expensive shoes? (politics.)
but, during the keynote speaker's address, during this year's "democrat of the year award" (given, btw, to the local executive director of planned parenthood. complete with crazy-assed protestors outside with pictures of dead babies.) when the speaker was talking about how there needs to be a new generation of caring, heart-felt politickos, she patted me on the back, like: "that's you, my dear."
sooooo being groomed for politcks, it's insane.
i mean, i had like assemblymembers and senators kissing my cheeks tonight telling me to come work for them. it was, like, insane.
no, seriously.
(seriously insane because last week i was bartending at some whack-ass-hippie-burner-rave in the middle of the words, glittered up, furry jacket, mama boobs rockin' in a push-up velvet shirt.)
i'm still reeling. and all these people were coming up and saying: "it's so nice to see someone here under 40!"
i take it not too many folks my age really give a rat's ass about politicking.
and i'm just fuckin' smilin' dressed in my conservative best. (one assemblymember remarked i looked like a "schoolgirl." later, during the second half of the evening at the dive bar some random short dude said: "you look like a librarian." but i'm really okay about those summations. in fact, a schoolgurrrl librarian is a hot look. so i'm really okay about it. really.)
anyway, it was a fucking weird game to play all night. like, so uptight. but, i'm super good at playing that game. totally. it's like this weird, surreal land you journey to. where you smile like hell and shake hands and say friendly, witty, semi-interesting topical things. yeah, i kinda love that scene. it's like being on hallucinagentics. (sp?) and, of course, before i go to one of those schmooze-a-thons i make it a point to get really, really high.
oh, yeah. post-politicking-dive-bar-action:
it was nice.
just nice.
to have that attention. from those three (count 'em! THREE!) decent men. i didn't say hot or great or wonderful... just decent. each one had their perks. but none of 'em made me gushy. (a few more drinks and sans my girlfriend, i probably would've went home with 'em all.) (anyway, i've long ago giving up on finding a partner. a few random shags here and there is all i can ever hope for.)
and be like: "well, i'm a good girl dressed in my schoolmarm best, so i'll just smile and nod and laugh at your jokes and pretend like i care and say four-syllable words you've never before heard in your life because i am fucking untouchable and you only wish you could even begin to lick the feet of this hot-chick librarian."
uh, yeah.
something like that.
and, i suppose, that's why i'm here alone.
typing on this stupid thing.
and hoping at least the fucking cats might sleep with me tonight.
cheers then, loves.