Thursday, June 29, 2017
Monday, June 26, 2017
look. i hope you're ok.
I don't really know what's going on with you
I suspect something is up
just know that
I love you
and
I believe you are going to love me
like forever-ish
so
we're more or less cool
even if you can't whatever, ya know
you just do your thing
I'm in an optimistic frame of mind
but
I always worry
cause, I think
cause it's genetic
I suspect something is up
just know that
I love you
and
I believe you are going to love me
like forever-ish
so
we're more or less cool
even if you can't whatever, ya know
you just do your thing
I'm in an optimistic frame of mind
but
I always worry
cause, I think
cause it's genetic
Sunday, June 25, 2017
to get them colored lights a flashin
i'm not writing this like a story
it might turn into a story
but
right now it's a sketch
and
i'm talking about my experience of sketching as well
so
i got this image
of us in a bed with neon flashing
reflecting on the walls
glowing, slightly surreal
very pretty
and my first thought was a hotel room
but
then
i thought no, that's not what it is at all
there's this image
romantic image in my head that is dying to get used
it comes originally from the movie cousins
{i can't find a reference picture
and i don't really remember what it looks like}
but the idea is that you look out the window
and there is this amazing piece of art
but even if you aren't looking out at it
the light spills in and colors the world
the down side, i guess, being that it's never dark
but the plus side
it creates an artistic, surreal, overwhelming nature element
so
we're in this bed, now
and rather than being some seedy hotel room
it's our home
and i like that better
or
maybe it's my home
and you're there for the first time
that works too
i have this thing about the dark
it has taken me most of my life to be comfortable
sleeping in the complete darkness
i have what used to be called an over-active imagination
and i will scare myself pretty easily
sometimes when i'm staying in an hotel
i leave so much light on that i almost can't sleep
and now that i've gotten used to it
i sleep so much deeper if it's totally dark
that i'm slightly irritated that my new oscillating fan has a glowing on button
it's like a night light
i used to have to take my phone as a flash light
when i would wake up in the night to pee
now
between that and the one fluorescent bulb light i leave
continually burning in the living room
i can see to walk anywhere, any time
so
it's warm
maybe a little warmer than would be comfortable
but there's a fan going
moving the air around
and the lights are flashing through the window
no other lights
the sheets are cool
i love the feel of cool sheets
when i was a kid i always slept on my stomach
i would get into bed
and the tops of my feet would be against the sheet
and i would rub them back and forth like a windshield wiper
that feeling
so cool, so comforting
i don't ever sleep on my stomach now
but every once in awhile i roll over so i can feel that, ya know
do you have anything like that
sheets, cool
and i'm thinking not a lot of blankets to weigh things down
but maybe one at the foot of the bed
just in case something gets cold later
when i sleep
my body temperature tends to drop
so
sometimes even if it's hot
i might get cold
and i'm picturing us under the sheets
not much visible
not from any sense of modesty
but rather
slower exploration
you might even be wearing pajamas
so there's something to impede exploration
make it more challenging
more exploratory
because, clearly, it's not about fast
i'm picturing kissing
and
touching
not so much in a childish or teen aged awkwardness-- not that
more like
not informed by previous experience
completely new
and not ends driven
now this is somewhat unusual for me
i seem to remember pushing towards climax
almost relentlessly
like even if there had been many
and were going to be many more
that was the thing, ya know
so i feel somewhat hypocritical
imagining this scenario where these two people are in this crystal bubble
exploring the feeling of kissing as though that was the entire experience
to get every last drop from that before escalating to anything higher
i'm not sure i'm capable
but
i'm picturing something crazy
something where fourteen years of waiting for the first kiss makes some kind of
poetic crazy beautiful performance piece
of the actual kissing
where the rest of my life
might not be long enough
omg
i just realized
i have no idea what the music is
very very important
ok
that's enough to get an image
must find music
it might turn into a story
but
right now it's a sketch
and
i'm talking about my experience of sketching as well
so
i got this image
of us in a bed with neon flashing
reflecting on the walls
glowing, slightly surreal
very pretty
and my first thought was a hotel room
but
then
i thought no, that's not what it is at all
there's this image
romantic image in my head that is dying to get used
it comes originally from the movie cousins
{i can't find a reference picture
and i don't really remember what it looks like}
but the idea is that you look out the window
and there is this amazing piece of art
but even if you aren't looking out at it
the light spills in and colors the world
the down side, i guess, being that it's never dark
but the plus side
it creates an artistic, surreal, overwhelming nature element
so
we're in this bed, now
and rather than being some seedy hotel room
it's our home
and i like that better
or
maybe it's my home
and you're there for the first time
that works too
i have this thing about the dark
it has taken me most of my life to be comfortable
sleeping in the complete darkness
i have what used to be called an over-active imagination
and i will scare myself pretty easily
sometimes when i'm staying in an hotel
i leave so much light on that i almost can't sleep
and now that i've gotten used to it
i sleep so much deeper if it's totally dark
that i'm slightly irritated that my new oscillating fan has a glowing on button
it's like a night light
i used to have to take my phone as a flash light
when i would wake up in the night to pee
now
between that and the one fluorescent bulb light i leave
continually burning in the living room
i can see to walk anywhere, any time
so
it's warm
maybe a little warmer than would be comfortable
but there's a fan going
moving the air around
and the lights are flashing through the window
no other lights
the sheets are cool
i love the feel of cool sheets
when i was a kid i always slept on my stomach
i would get into bed
and the tops of my feet would be against the sheet
and i would rub them back and forth like a windshield wiper
that feeling
so cool, so comforting
i don't ever sleep on my stomach now
but every once in awhile i roll over so i can feel that, ya know
do you have anything like that
sheets, cool
and i'm thinking not a lot of blankets to weigh things down
but maybe one at the foot of the bed
just in case something gets cold later
when i sleep
my body temperature tends to drop
so
sometimes even if it's hot
i might get cold
and i'm picturing us under the sheets
not much visible
not from any sense of modesty
but rather
slower exploration
you might even be wearing pajamas
so there's something to impede exploration
make it more challenging
more exploratory
because, clearly, it's not about fast
i'm picturing kissing
and
touching
not so much in a childish or teen aged awkwardness-- not that
more like
not informed by previous experience
completely new
and not ends driven
now this is somewhat unusual for me
i seem to remember pushing towards climax
almost relentlessly
like even if there had been many
and were going to be many more
that was the thing, ya know
so i feel somewhat hypocritical
imagining this scenario where these two people are in this crystal bubble
exploring the feeling of kissing as though that was the entire experience
to get every last drop from that before escalating to anything higher
i'm not sure i'm capable
but
i'm picturing something crazy
something where fourteen years of waiting for the first kiss makes some kind of
poetic crazy beautiful performance piece
of the actual kissing
where the rest of my life
might not be long enough
omg
i just realized
i have no idea what the music is
very very important
ok
that's enough to get an image
must find music
over the last few days i've been doing a lot of tarot readings
and the cards that keep coming up again and again are these
http://www.gaiantarot.com/canoe/
http://www.gaiantarot.com/eightofwater/
http://www.gaiantarot.com/death/
i was asking it questions about how you feel and what's going on with you
but i suppose it could just be a message for me
i did one of those online readings
when i was looking up
the cards
and didn't specify a question
it said this:
http://www.gaiantarot.com/oracle/reading.php
i hope you're doing well
i love you
http://www.gaiantarot.com/canoe/
http://www.gaiantarot.com/eightofwater/
http://www.gaiantarot.com/death/
i was asking it questions about how you feel and what's going on with you
but i suppose it could just be a message for me
i did one of those online readings
when i was looking up
the cards
and didn't specify a question
it said this:
http://www.gaiantarot.com/oracle/reading.php
i hope you're doing well
i love you
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
i really need to be asleep / night
but
there was something i was wanting to tell you today
and then i couldn't remember what it was
now i remember
i have to tell you
night
i love
when the days are long
when it's light out at nine p.m.
and you'd think i wouldn't
because i'm such a night person
but
when it's dark at six-o-clock
that's not really night
so it's all phony and meaningless
when it doesn't get to be night until nine
well
then you know it's well and truly night
no foolin around
so it's not as long
but it's for real, ya know
there was something i was wanting to tell you today
and then i couldn't remember what it was
now i remember
i have to tell you
night
i love
when the days are long
when it's light out at nine p.m.
and you'd think i wouldn't
because i'm such a night person
but
when it's dark at six-o-clock
that's not really night
so it's all phony and meaningless
when it doesn't get to be night until nine
well
then you know it's well and truly night
no foolin around
so it's not as long
but it's for real, ya know
yeah, again with the explaining
I hope
it was clear
that what I meant
was
that's what I feel I need to
say to the world
not
you, specifically
that was clear, right
from like context
america's messed up
it was clear
that what I meant
was
that's what I feel I need to
say to the world
not
you, specifically
that was clear, right
from like context
america's messed up
Monday, June 19, 2017
snow
i don't know what it would be like to have snow be a regular part of my consciousness.
i didn't grow up with snow. like, here, seriously-- three flakes fall from the sky they shut the fucker down. one could spend the night in an airport explaining to the people there that they couldn't get that flight to houston because the airport was shut down due to snow in a place that probably wouldn't accept blizzard as an excuse to be late for work. well, how bad is it snowing there they'd ask you prepared to be wowed. ya know, like three flakes fell from the sky, the culture crash, audible.
i mean, that's just how it goes. i was enjoying the light rain in los angeles during a trip to LACMA. you know, the kind of rain that isn't even worth an umbrella-- it would never keep you in. but when i struck up a conversation (ok,that seems unlikely)-- when i somehow stumbled into a conversation in the snack bar i found out it was a dreadful storm. weatherpocalyse, clearly, while i would have reserved that term for rain which at least included a body count, if not actually washing away 18 wheelers.
so, see, i'd have a different understanding of snow if it was something i had any real experience with.
it's like trying to have a conversation about how you need to make sure you have no large south or west facing windows because you cannot afford to be surprised with a $400. electrical bill. and the person you're talking to is from new jersey. i could see a heating bill being high, but no one ever spends over $40. a month for electricity for a/c. like anywhere, apparently. and you know you can't answer: dude, i can see turning on the heat to take the chill off, like, while you're actually in the shower, but otherwise, i mean, don't be such a pussy-- put on a sweater. you know you can't answer that, even though that would be in keeping with your experience, because you are smart enough to know that it gets really cold there. there they have to have like an actual plan for shoveling snow-- like it was a thing.
And, this has something to do with what i want to say to people -- SNOW!
for me snow is magic. not a metaphor for magic. actual magic.
rain falls from the sky, yes. but the finest sprinkling of crystallized not one the same frozen art falling from the sky, catching on the wind, dancing. the way the air smells. the way the air feels. everything about snow is magic. i've had to dig out a car twice. that wasn't magic. that was really hard work. but it was still kind of magic because it was like your car was inside a snowcone and how would that even happen-- crazy.
it's a lack of understanding the perspective of others experience, i mean to say, that is what i think i need to write about, somehow. that's what's wrong with everything. not so much that it hasn't always been that way, just that somehow we all bump into it more and it's become a problem.
maybe because there used to be news that would at least pretend that it had to give equal time that at least held open the idea that there were at least two viewpoints. maybe that's just my version of when america was great. and maybe it's just as ridiculous as some of those other versions, but that's where i'm feelin like i need to go with this, somehow.
i mean, is that crazy?
i didn't grow up with snow. like, here, seriously-- three flakes fall from the sky they shut the fucker down. one could spend the night in an airport explaining to the people there that they couldn't get that flight to houston because the airport was shut down due to snow in a place that probably wouldn't accept blizzard as an excuse to be late for work. well, how bad is it snowing there they'd ask you prepared to be wowed. ya know, like three flakes fell from the sky, the culture crash, audible.
i mean, that's just how it goes. i was enjoying the light rain in los angeles during a trip to LACMA. you know, the kind of rain that isn't even worth an umbrella-- it would never keep you in. but when i struck up a conversation (ok,that seems unlikely)-- when i somehow stumbled into a conversation in the snack bar i found out it was a dreadful storm. weatherpocalyse, clearly, while i would have reserved that term for rain which at least included a body count, if not actually washing away 18 wheelers.
so, see, i'd have a different understanding of snow if it was something i had any real experience with.
it's like trying to have a conversation about how you need to make sure you have no large south or west facing windows because you cannot afford to be surprised with a $400. electrical bill. and the person you're talking to is from new jersey. i could see a heating bill being high, but no one ever spends over $40. a month for electricity for a/c. like anywhere, apparently. and you know you can't answer: dude, i can see turning on the heat to take the chill off, like, while you're actually in the shower, but otherwise, i mean, don't be such a pussy-- put on a sweater. you know you can't answer that, even though that would be in keeping with your experience, because you are smart enough to know that it gets really cold there. there they have to have like an actual plan for shoveling snow-- like it was a thing.
And, this has something to do with what i want to say to people -- SNOW!
for me snow is magic. not a metaphor for magic. actual magic.
rain falls from the sky, yes. but the finest sprinkling of crystallized not one the same frozen art falling from the sky, catching on the wind, dancing. the way the air smells. the way the air feels. everything about snow is magic. i've had to dig out a car twice. that wasn't magic. that was really hard work. but it was still kind of magic because it was like your car was inside a snowcone and how would that even happen-- crazy.
it's a lack of understanding the perspective of others experience, i mean to say, that is what i think i need to write about, somehow. that's what's wrong with everything. not so much that it hasn't always been that way, just that somehow we all bump into it more and it's become a problem.
maybe because there used to be news that would at least pretend that it had to give equal time that at least held open the idea that there were at least two viewpoints. maybe that's just my version of when america was great. and maybe it's just as ridiculous as some of those other versions, but that's where i'm feelin like i need to go with this, somehow.
i mean, is that crazy?
L--inner
i guess this is a warm up
because i really want to write this
but
it's pretty banal
i'm cooking dinner now
as i write
i discovered this thing
and it is like a total homage to the 70s
in that it is a sort of casserole constructed
completely of prepared food
hopefully i haven't already told you about this
because then
then i would need to order some more NAC
and i'm taking a holiday from that
oh, but it's lovely
my whole life
i'd lose my train of thought
it would just be gone
and the NAC lets me just pick a thread from a tapestry
it's such a happy thing
not even youthifying
because i could never do it
anyway
cooking,now
so it's frozen mac & cheese
with a bag of frozen yellow squash
and a tetra pack of bone broth
when it's mostly cooked
i stir in a bunch of nutritional yeast
and maybe some chicken bisto
and
i'm not gonna lie
a few times i have added extra cheese
which does not hurt it at all
it is such a comfort food
and
except for stirring it
no effort at all
it might not be the healthiest thing in the world
but
it's not too bad
and
i can keep all the components on hand
for when i just can't cook
or need comfort food
or
ya know
whatever
because i really want to write this
but
it's pretty banal
i'm cooking dinner now
as i write
i discovered this thing
and it is like a total homage to the 70s
in that it is a sort of casserole constructed
completely of prepared food
hopefully i haven't already told you about this
because then
then i would need to order some more NAC
and i'm taking a holiday from that
oh, but it's lovely
my whole life
i'd lose my train of thought
it would just be gone
and the NAC lets me just pick a thread from a tapestry
it's such a happy thing
not even youthifying
because i could never do it
anyway
cooking,now
so it's frozen mac & cheese
with a bag of frozen yellow squash
and a tetra pack of bone broth
when it's mostly cooked
i stir in a bunch of nutritional yeast
and maybe some chicken bisto
and
i'm not gonna lie
a few times i have added extra cheese
which does not hurt it at all
it is such a comfort food
and
except for stirring it
no effort at all
it might not be the healthiest thing in the world
but
it's not too bad
and
i can keep all the components on hand
for when i just can't cook
or need comfort food
or
ya know
whatever
Sunday, June 11, 2017
i went to see wonder woman today
i feel
strangely
validated as a woman
now
clearly
that's ridiculous
it's a movie
but
wonder woman was very important to me
and that whole linda carter thing
i mean
not to dis her
and it was another time
but
there was always that cheese cake kinda vibe
and
not a warrior
what the 70s show did well
was the whole rescue the man while
not being too obvious about it
dove tailing with the changing zeitgeist
but
what i wanted
was wonder woman
i was worried that it would be long
it's like over 2 and a half hours
but
it was awesome
gal gadot was amazing
she was strong and without one drop of flirty girly whateverness
she like oozed nobility
that's what
they could have taken more time to develop
some of her revelations about people and humanity
but what was there was well done
i cried through much of it
i walk this line of alienation
it seems like everything that "women like" i can't relate to
i mean
not exactly
but kinda, ya know
i've got a minor in women's studies
i've read a lot of books on transgender
i do not think i'm a man
i just think man is the much much better option
and
i'm not really sure what women mean when they say they feel like women
or, for that matter
what transgendered people mean when they say
they feel like one gender trapped in the other body
what i am saying
is what does any of that have to do with you or me or whatever
i feel like me
and that just doesn't have much to do with sex or gender
because the things that constitute me
don't fit into a box
and i don't expect that they should
but
i have to admit
i'm pretty male identified
{if anybody even uses terminology like that anymore}
which doesn't mean
identify as a male
understand
but
watching that movie
for maybe the first time watching a movie
i thought
yes
now
i feel like a woman
i can't really explain
any more clearly than that
but
there it is
strangely
validated as a woman
now
clearly
that's ridiculous
it's a movie
but
wonder woman was very important to me
and that whole linda carter thing
i mean
not to dis her
and it was another time
but
there was always that cheese cake kinda vibe
and
not a warrior
what the 70s show did well
was the whole rescue the man while
not being too obvious about it
dove tailing with the changing zeitgeist
but
what i wanted
was wonder woman
i was worried that it would be long
it's like over 2 and a half hours
but
it was awesome
gal gadot was amazing
she was strong and without one drop of flirty girly whateverness
she like oozed nobility
that's what
they could have taken more time to develop
some of her revelations about people and humanity
but what was there was well done
i cried through much of it
i walk this line of alienation
it seems like everything that "women like" i can't relate to
i mean
not exactly
but kinda, ya know
i've got a minor in women's studies
i've read a lot of books on transgender
i do not think i'm a man
i just think man is the much much better option
and
i'm not really sure what women mean when they say they feel like women
or, for that matter
what transgendered people mean when they say
they feel like one gender trapped in the other body
what i am saying
is what does any of that have to do with you or me or whatever
i feel like me
and that just doesn't have much to do with sex or gender
because the things that constitute me
don't fit into a box
and i don't expect that they should
but
i have to admit
i'm pretty male identified
{if anybody even uses terminology like that anymore}
which doesn't mean
identify as a male
understand
but
watching that movie
for maybe the first time watching a movie
i thought
yes
now
i feel like a woman
i can't really explain
any more clearly than that
but
there it is
Sunday, June 4, 2017
paisley
my father didn't take me shopping for clothes
not much
when i was a kid, sometimes
sometimes he'd take me to sears and buy me jeans
mostly
mostly, though
there were female relatives
and then my stepmother
and, of course
sometimes my mother would take me
but
today
i'm thinking
about this dress he bought me
i think it was after i went to live with my mom
i think
we went to memorial city mall
we went to a store i don't think i'd ever been in before
a dress shop
and
i got this dress
i don't know why i needed a dress
i can't remember
maybe it was some sort of right of passage
maybe
it was paisley
several layers of semi-sheer fabric
slightly pleated all over, i think
sort of tone on tone dark burgundy wine
with hints of deeper plum
paisley
it was totally inappropriate for a girl my age
but
i had picked it out
i loved it
and
i thought i looked good in it
must have been 1977 or 1978
i'm not sure i've had anything else
paisley
but
i really like paisley
not much
when i was a kid, sometimes
sometimes he'd take me to sears and buy me jeans
mostly
mostly, though
there were female relatives
and then my stepmother
and, of course
sometimes my mother would take me
but
today
i'm thinking
about this dress he bought me
i think it was after i went to live with my mom
i think
we went to memorial city mall
we went to a store i don't think i'd ever been in before
a dress shop
and
i got this dress
i don't know why i needed a dress
i can't remember
maybe it was some sort of right of passage
maybe
it was paisley
several layers of semi-sheer fabric
slightly pleated all over, i think
sort of tone on tone dark burgundy wine
with hints of deeper plum
paisley
it was totally inappropriate for a girl my age
but
i had picked it out
i loved it
and
i thought i looked good in it
must have been 1977 or 1978
i'm not sure i've had anything else
paisley
but
i really like paisley
Saturday, June 3, 2017
what defines a scentic highway-- part 4
so, anyway, the next morning i woke up sick. i kinda skipped the music festival and explored a little.
but then suday night was dinner. i checked the website. i asked around. it was at the country club. i got lost. i wasted a bunch of time. i got there early.
i waited. i waited. i waited. it seemed like i was waiting a long long time. i was getting a little worried because i had one show i wanted to see that was after.
the woman who had been so friendly when i came in walked by.
excuse me, how much longer do you think it's going to be?, i asked
she didn't answer and walked away. could she really not have heard me?
finally we did go in, though. there were several, like maybe four long tables. i tried to find somewhere that felt right, but everyone looked like someone i didn't want to sit by, so, in the end, i just sat down. then a big group rushed in, setting everything in a kind of tizzy. some of these people sat down right next to me.
if i could remember all the conversation, maybe it would make a better story to slowly pull out this fact, but these were the people who had held us up. now, i'm sure if i had called to say i was running late they would have said
oh, sorry, we have a schedule and other people have scheduled performers to hear.
or, possibly
well,that's awful. we will try our very best to save you a portion of the meal you have already paid for. get here fast.
but these people were members of the club. and here's this guy all like,
so sorry we just couldn't seem to get everybody together. the women took forever to get dressed and the teenagers had to be rounded up. haha
i think, but do not say aloud:
whatever dude. clearly the world does revolve around you. please don't disrespect me by pretending you're sorry about that. you're the one who fucking called them and told them to wait.
apparently we are all supposed to chat. and not about the food. the people on my left are maybe a little older than me, but not much. he is a physician on staff at a large hospital in some state i just drove through to get here. they have a place in watercolor. she is an administrator at the same hospital, i think. and she is trying really hard to talk to me. i really don't want to talk, but there seems to be a bunch of time built into this for just this sort of talking-- like it was fun, or something.
so, she asks me, what do you think of our beautiful highway
i'm slightly shocked. i am uncertain what to say. i recover reasonably quickly,
well, i was taken by surprise-- when i heard scenic highway i was expecting to see beautiful ocean views but you can't see the ocean at all.
well, yes, there are other ways to be scenic. we love it here. we had been looking for a place for a while, and when we came down here we just knew this was the place.
i think, but do not say aloud:
wow. i didn't even want to sleep here for four nights. i was afraid it would suck my soul away in that time it seemed so plastic and fake. i cannot imagine wanting to "have a place" here.
she starts networking with the center of the universe guy about the club membership.
then he-- and don't get me wrong he seems like a nice enough guy and all-- starts talking politics. who do we want for president. now, if i didn't want to talk about hideous development or club membership, i certainly didn't want to talk about that. i try to avoid politics in groups. especially groups of unknowns.
this guy is for bernie. he says it like he wants to be challenged. or perhaps like he thinks he is a dangerous rebel. i don't think anyone was for trump, but i can't imagine they were all democrats. i wish i could remember who everyone was for. for purely scientific reasons.
the wine is very good.
the servers keep tipping up center of the universe's glass.
i am offered no more. and he doesn't use any of his privilege to offer me any. even though he made me tell him where i work. and i'm kind of ashamed of where i work, so i would have rather not. but, clearly, i have a professional interest.
oh, you really like this wine? i don't care for it. yes, thank you jeeves, i'll have a little more.
so, i'm really out of touch with these people. but that makes sense. i really dislike most people my age, or at least can't relate to them. but then, there is just a gratuitous thing that happens. there's a musical guest. apparently they all love her. now i'm sure she's great, but she get's up and starts talking about being basically the age i am, like i'm supposed to relate to it, and yet again-- no.
she sings this song that they all already love. and it reminds me of july, july somehow. i don't relate to it either. i don't look back on my first sexual experiences with a sense of innocence and fondness. i never drank their strawberry wine.
i start looking at my watch. i am trying to decide at what point i am going to have to be "rude" by getting up and walking out. i have a show i cannot miss whatever the consequences.
the song finishes. desert is served. i take a tiny bite of each. it's not even tempting to eat more. i get up.
well goodnight, i say, it was nice meeting you
maybe we'll see you next year, the nice administrator says
maybe, i say
but not if i see you first, i do not say aloud
but then suday night was dinner. i checked the website. i asked around. it was at the country club. i got lost. i wasted a bunch of time. i got there early.
i waited. i waited. i waited. it seemed like i was waiting a long long time. i was getting a little worried because i had one show i wanted to see that was after.
the woman who had been so friendly when i came in walked by.
excuse me, how much longer do you think it's going to be?, i asked
she didn't answer and walked away. could she really not have heard me?
finally we did go in, though. there were several, like maybe four long tables. i tried to find somewhere that felt right, but everyone looked like someone i didn't want to sit by, so, in the end, i just sat down. then a big group rushed in, setting everything in a kind of tizzy. some of these people sat down right next to me.
if i could remember all the conversation, maybe it would make a better story to slowly pull out this fact, but these were the people who had held us up. now, i'm sure if i had called to say i was running late they would have said
oh, sorry, we have a schedule and other people have scheduled performers to hear.
or, possibly
well,that's awful. we will try our very best to save you a portion of the meal you have already paid for. get here fast.
but these people were members of the club. and here's this guy all like,
so sorry we just couldn't seem to get everybody together. the women took forever to get dressed and the teenagers had to be rounded up. haha
i think, but do not say aloud:
whatever dude. clearly the world does revolve around you. please don't disrespect me by pretending you're sorry about that. you're the one who fucking called them and told them to wait.
apparently we are all supposed to chat. and not about the food. the people on my left are maybe a little older than me, but not much. he is a physician on staff at a large hospital in some state i just drove through to get here. they have a place in watercolor. she is an administrator at the same hospital, i think. and she is trying really hard to talk to me. i really don't want to talk, but there seems to be a bunch of time built into this for just this sort of talking-- like it was fun, or something.
so, she asks me, what do you think of our beautiful highway
i'm slightly shocked. i am uncertain what to say. i recover reasonably quickly,
well, i was taken by surprise-- when i heard scenic highway i was expecting to see beautiful ocean views but you can't see the ocean at all.
well, yes, there are other ways to be scenic. we love it here. we had been looking for a place for a while, and when we came down here we just knew this was the place.
i think, but do not say aloud:
wow. i didn't even want to sleep here for four nights. i was afraid it would suck my soul away in that time it seemed so plastic and fake. i cannot imagine wanting to "have a place" here.
she starts networking with the center of the universe guy about the club membership.
then he-- and don't get me wrong he seems like a nice enough guy and all-- starts talking politics. who do we want for president. now, if i didn't want to talk about hideous development or club membership, i certainly didn't want to talk about that. i try to avoid politics in groups. especially groups of unknowns.
this guy is for bernie. he says it like he wants to be challenged. or perhaps like he thinks he is a dangerous rebel. i don't think anyone was for trump, but i can't imagine they were all democrats. i wish i could remember who everyone was for. for purely scientific reasons.
the wine is very good.
the servers keep tipping up center of the universe's glass.
i am offered no more. and he doesn't use any of his privilege to offer me any. even though he made me tell him where i work. and i'm kind of ashamed of where i work, so i would have rather not. but, clearly, i have a professional interest.
oh, you really like this wine? i don't care for it. yes, thank you jeeves, i'll have a little more.
so, i'm really out of touch with these people. but that makes sense. i really dislike most people my age, or at least can't relate to them. but then, there is just a gratuitous thing that happens. there's a musical guest. apparently they all love her. now i'm sure she's great, but she get's up and starts talking about being basically the age i am, like i'm supposed to relate to it, and yet again-- no.
she sings this song that they all already love. and it reminds me of july, july somehow. i don't relate to it either. i don't look back on my first sexual experiences with a sense of innocence and fondness. i never drank their strawberry wine.
i start looking at my watch. i am trying to decide at what point i am going to have to be "rude" by getting up and walking out. i have a show i cannot miss whatever the consequences.
the song finishes. desert is served. i take a tiny bite of each. it's not even tempting to eat more. i get up.
well goodnight, i say, it was nice meeting you
maybe we'll see you next year, the nice administrator says
maybe, i say
but not if i see you first, i do not say aloud
what defines a scentic highway-- part 3
there was a waffle house adjacent to the motel. that was a good sign. i imagined late night coffee and hash browns. i'm not a big waffle house girl, but still...
literally a couple blocks away there was a funky little smoke house. they had smoked salmon dip, and french fries. and the most exciting discovery-- alabama white bbq sauce. i mean, goddamn roll tide, or whatever. that shit is good on fries. and i imagine it's real good on pulled pork too, whatever.
so far, so good. this was lookin up!
the next morning, however, started the downward spiral. i had to go check in at the music festival. there was no designated parking. everywhere was somewhere i wasn't supposed to park. this set me on edge right off the bat.
i went in. i waited in line. i got a wrist band and a schedule. i looked at the information.
i have a question, i said.
ok. what's your question.
where is this dinner?
what dinner?
well they're having one saturday night and one sunday night and i am signed up for sunday.
oh, well, probably it is at the roadhouse. there was an add on show at the roadhouse.
no. this was not add on. this is like a full-on tasting menu with "regional chef"
oh. sorry. don't know.
well, excuse me, i don't want to be rude or anything, but isn't this where i'm supposed to get that kind of information? isn't there somebody you can call, or something?
probably they haven't decided yet. somebody will know sometime. worry about it later.
wow. really?!
ok. so i am officially not having a good time-- 10am friday, official.
i'm of course not going to go to the main stage, at all,ever, no matter who is playing there, because that is just fucking way too many people.
i have scoped it out in the information and decided on one coffee shop that feels like a place i would like to spend time. i plan to make that my base of operations. i had originally hoped to stay there, but they were booked up. oh well, i'm happier with my destin lodging anyway. i saw every show, but one at that location. ate there all three days. it wasn't too bad.
there was one thing it still haunts me a year and a half later. at one point. i had a chai. and i was hanging around. and the man at the counter said can i get a chai to go. inexplicably, it brought back my father in the hospital room.
do you want me to go, i had asked.
he smiled up at me beatifically, would you?
it crushed my heart.
and something in the man at the counter's face. and something in the way he said go.
it was like replaying everything in my mind. body. soul.
yeah, whatever.
literally a couple blocks away there was a funky little smoke house. they had smoked salmon dip, and french fries. and the most exciting discovery-- alabama white bbq sauce. i mean, goddamn roll tide, or whatever. that shit is good on fries. and i imagine it's real good on pulled pork too, whatever.
so far, so good. this was lookin up!
the next morning, however, started the downward spiral. i had to go check in at the music festival. there was no designated parking. everywhere was somewhere i wasn't supposed to park. this set me on edge right off the bat.
i went in. i waited in line. i got a wrist band and a schedule. i looked at the information.
i have a question, i said.
ok. what's your question.
where is this dinner?
what dinner?
well they're having one saturday night and one sunday night and i am signed up for sunday.
oh, well, probably it is at the roadhouse. there was an add on show at the roadhouse.
no. this was not add on. this is like a full-on tasting menu with "regional chef"
oh. sorry. don't know.
well, excuse me, i don't want to be rude or anything, but isn't this where i'm supposed to get that kind of information? isn't there somebody you can call, or something?
probably they haven't decided yet. somebody will know sometime. worry about it later.
wow. really?!
ok. so i am officially not having a good time-- 10am friday, official.
i'm of course not going to go to the main stage, at all,ever, no matter who is playing there, because that is just fucking way too many people.
i have scoped it out in the information and decided on one coffee shop that feels like a place i would like to spend time. i plan to make that my base of operations. i had originally hoped to stay there, but they were booked up. oh well, i'm happier with my destin lodging anyway. i saw every show, but one at that location. ate there all three days. it wasn't too bad.
there was one thing it still haunts me a year and a half later. at one point. i had a chai. and i was hanging around. and the man at the counter said can i get a chai to go. inexplicably, it brought back my father in the hospital room.
do you want me to go, i had asked.
he smiled up at me beatifically, would you?
it crushed my heart.
and something in the man at the counter's face. and something in the way he said go.
it was like replaying everything in my mind. body. soul.
yeah, whatever.
what defines a scentic highway-- part 2
so, i rented a car. i always rent a car. and i drove. the previous year had been a nightmare. somehow, i thought it had to be that trip then. before the sky fell somehow. i don't even remember, but between the herbs that made me have to pee and the herbs that made me nauseated there were many many stops. it took me three days to reach the east coast. the drive east, which i had never like all that much, had become oppressive. the only thing that made me do it was a burning need to see him. somehow he seemed to need me right then, and even though i hadn't wanted to and couldn't afford it i had driven-- east. all that swam to the surface as i headed out again. only the 10, i though, only the 10. i love the western 10, maybe this would be ok. almost enthusiastic. didn't quite make it in one day. my mapping was a little iffy. i decided to turn in early the first day and start fresh in the light-- which turned out to be an inspired decision because i would have been super lost in the dark.
something about a turn off being wrong.
i got there, early the next day. since i was too early to check into the hotel i decided to check out this scenic highway. now, what you might not know about me, or maybe you do, is how much i love overwhelming nature.
on my list of things i want from the place i want to live. the thing that tops the list is overwhelming nature. overwhelming nature! to be aware of nature as the primary focus of my consciousness of the place. so, i mean, scenic highway is like right in my wheelhouse. so i thought, yes, early arrival means beautiful scenic drive. i mean, not like driving the 1 and pulling off at the seal colony, but, you know, still, somethin. so i drove. until the bridge was washed out and i had to turn around. there was nothing. nothing but hideous development.
maybe it was all on the other side of the bridge. maybe.
it was still a little early, but i headed to my motel in destin. maybe i called it an hotel before, if so, i misspoke. motel all the way. when i saw the seventies-esque font on the sign my insides did a happy dance. when i walked into the "lobby" to check in only to find it completely covered in rough wood shrouded in nets and those glass ball floats-- every inch covered in ocean junk and most of the floor covered by fish tanks-- i decided that i had at least done that right. the woman at the counter took my card and i told her to go ahead and charge it though. she smiled and in her thick russian accent told me that next time, if i called directly, instead of booking online, she'd give me a better rate.
something about a turn off being wrong.
i got there, early the next day. since i was too early to check into the hotel i decided to check out this scenic highway. now, what you might not know about me, or maybe you do, is how much i love overwhelming nature.
on my list of things i want from the place i want to live. the thing that tops the list is overwhelming nature. overwhelming nature! to be aware of nature as the primary focus of my consciousness of the place. so, i mean, scenic highway is like right in my wheelhouse. so i thought, yes, early arrival means beautiful scenic drive. i mean, not like driving the 1 and pulling off at the seal colony, but, you know, still, somethin. so i drove. until the bridge was washed out and i had to turn around. there was nothing. nothing but hideous development.
maybe it was all on the other side of the bridge. maybe.
it was still a little early, but i headed to my motel in destin. maybe i called it an hotel before, if so, i misspoke. motel all the way. when i saw the seventies-esque font on the sign my insides did a happy dance. when i walked into the "lobby" to check in only to find it completely covered in rough wood shrouded in nets and those glass ball floats-- every inch covered in ocean junk and most of the floor covered by fish tanks-- i decided that i had at least done that right. the woman at the counter took my card and i told her to go ahead and charge it though. she smiled and in her thick russian accent told me that next time, if i called directly, instead of booking online, she'd give me a better rate.
what defines a scentic highway-- part 1
i was trying to buy tickets to a music festival-- this was about a year and a half ago. i was looking at all the permutations, trying to make it as cheap as possible,and trying to get this all figured out in enough time to also ask off from work. should i get the package? should i get a hotel separate? everything seemed to be condos-- condos with no pictures. i looked at what i could find, picture-wise, and i didn't like it. so i stayed at a hotel straight outta the seventies in destin. it was a little drive, but, worth it.
but, wait, i'm getting a little ahead of my story. i took too long. in the morning everything was fine, but by lunch it was sold out. wtf! i had to go. it's not so much that i wanted to go. i hate crowds of people. i don't enjoy people, generally. i had to go. i was pretty sure i had told him i was going. this time would be different. this time had to be different. but now it was sold out. i freaked out a little. maybe he would stop loving me. maybe he would become angry or depressed. i looked again.
there was an option with a $200. chef experience dinner. that made it a lot more expensive. crap. well, it's your own fault. you wanted it to be affordable and now it's not. you didn't really want to do it at all, you just wanted to see him, you had trouble pulling the trigger and now you're fucked. but, then i talked myself into it. you know you have to have something else to do. you have to have it be fun without him because you can't count on him to suddenly do something he has never been willing to do. you love all those cooking shows. for your birthday, give yourself that experience. figure out how to pay for it later.
as it turned out this pushed it into an expensive enough charge that the whole thing became time payments that i took about a year to pay off. i didn't ask for that it was just an amex gold card sign and fly type benefit. thank you amex for giving me a card in college.
i assumed that the meal would be fish. or, really, i was so insane with panic that i wouldn't get there, that i didn't even think about whether the food would be things i could eat. surely it would be fish, surely, i said to myself over and over later. spoiler alert. at the risk of telling the story out of order-- because this story is really about the dinner, not the music festival-- only the appetizer and the desert and the wine were things i could eat. now, i did eat them, mind. yes indeed i did. and, what i found is that i don't like the taste of meat any more. it didn't make me sick. it just didn't add any value. the appetizer was fish,and it is one of the best things i've ever eaten. the desert was two quenelles of some kinds of mousse. i have an unpleasant history with mousse.
when i was like around twelve, on one of the trips my aunt and cousin and i took to galveston, i had chocolate mousse. we went to the wentletrap which was a fairly fancy restaurant (probably not that fancy, but, you know, whatever, pretty fancy) down on the strand. this may have been the first time i went there, maybe. i loved it. i went subsequently with my mother as well. also my aunt and i went on other trips. i know guido's is like the traditional place to go, but we liked the funky places. the wentletrap, tuffy's, some little local place down on O ave. i even got to go to the bon ton room-- once or twice which had an amazing series of hallways leading out to the ocean on a pier. i got to hear about wild exploits i'm sure (although, perhaps, the tame version). my aunt had a youth filled with singapore slings, colt 45 players, and run-ins with the law in new orleans. some kind of exploits must have been discussed then, though i don't remember them.
but, i digress yet again. the wentletrap was awesome (word not used yet) for not only it's shrimp cocktails and upscale bistro fare, but also it's resort shop. they had so many things. they had cinnabar beads! they had some sort of seed pods carved into octopi and frogs and wizened chinese men's faces. they had fancy shells from all over the world. they had a small selection of resort ware. the floor had varrying levels. it was an extremely cool jem on a street full of jems. i loved it. through and through. all sea towns will forever be judged by the scale of galveston in the seventies. which was not galveston's hayday, not even close.
however. chocolate mousse was a non-starter. it was creamy and chocolatey and delicious. i loved it. i ate it all up. and i did make it back to the commodore before it made clear why i was never eating mousse again.
i think i spent the next eternity of time in the bathroom. it was painful and embarrassing.
my theory is that it has something to do with an intolerance for cream, but that is largely anecdotal.
i have had a similarly bad experience when what i thought was custard (a favorite since early childhood) turned out to be creme brulee. regardless.
i tasted the quenelles unenthusiastically, and, even though they were only about a heaping tablespoon each,didn't consume more than a teaspoon.
the middle two courses were a lamb something ragu and a vennison sausage something. i forget. it was weird. i had kinda agonized about whether it was ok for me to eat them-- since i was supposed to be a pescatarian and all-- and the answer i arrived at was, well, fuck it. it's not like that amount was likely to make me sick and, if it did,well then i was just gonna have to be sick.
i tasted the spices. i tasted the textures. i'm not sure i could really taste the meat. it was weird. and, it was kinda a waste. the wine was quite good. and there will be more on that later. obviously the story is not about the food-- it is about the dinner.
but, wait, i'm getting a little ahead of my story. i took too long. in the morning everything was fine, but by lunch it was sold out. wtf! i had to go. it's not so much that i wanted to go. i hate crowds of people. i don't enjoy people, generally. i had to go. i was pretty sure i had told him i was going. this time would be different. this time had to be different. but now it was sold out. i freaked out a little. maybe he would stop loving me. maybe he would become angry or depressed. i looked again.
there was an option with a $200. chef experience dinner. that made it a lot more expensive. crap. well, it's your own fault. you wanted it to be affordable and now it's not. you didn't really want to do it at all, you just wanted to see him, you had trouble pulling the trigger and now you're fucked. but, then i talked myself into it. you know you have to have something else to do. you have to have it be fun without him because you can't count on him to suddenly do something he has never been willing to do. you love all those cooking shows. for your birthday, give yourself that experience. figure out how to pay for it later.
as it turned out this pushed it into an expensive enough charge that the whole thing became time payments that i took about a year to pay off. i didn't ask for that it was just an amex gold card sign and fly type benefit. thank you amex for giving me a card in college.
i assumed that the meal would be fish. or, really, i was so insane with panic that i wouldn't get there, that i didn't even think about whether the food would be things i could eat. surely it would be fish, surely, i said to myself over and over later. spoiler alert. at the risk of telling the story out of order-- because this story is really about the dinner, not the music festival-- only the appetizer and the desert and the wine were things i could eat. now, i did eat them, mind. yes indeed i did. and, what i found is that i don't like the taste of meat any more. it didn't make me sick. it just didn't add any value. the appetizer was fish,and it is one of the best things i've ever eaten. the desert was two quenelles of some kinds of mousse. i have an unpleasant history with mousse.
when i was like around twelve, on one of the trips my aunt and cousin and i took to galveston, i had chocolate mousse. we went to the wentletrap which was a fairly fancy restaurant (probably not that fancy, but, you know, whatever, pretty fancy) down on the strand. this may have been the first time i went there, maybe. i loved it. i went subsequently with my mother as well. also my aunt and i went on other trips. i know guido's is like the traditional place to go, but we liked the funky places. the wentletrap, tuffy's, some little local place down on O ave. i even got to go to the bon ton room-- once or twice which had an amazing series of hallways leading out to the ocean on a pier. i got to hear about wild exploits i'm sure (although, perhaps, the tame version). my aunt had a youth filled with singapore slings, colt 45 players, and run-ins with the law in new orleans. some kind of exploits must have been discussed then, though i don't remember them.
but, i digress yet again. the wentletrap was awesome (word not used yet) for not only it's shrimp cocktails and upscale bistro fare, but also it's resort shop. they had so many things. they had cinnabar beads! they had some sort of seed pods carved into octopi and frogs and wizened chinese men's faces. they had fancy shells from all over the world. they had a small selection of resort ware. the floor had varrying levels. it was an extremely cool jem on a street full of jems. i loved it. through and through. all sea towns will forever be judged by the scale of galveston in the seventies. which was not galveston's hayday, not even close.
however. chocolate mousse was a non-starter. it was creamy and chocolatey and delicious. i loved it. i ate it all up. and i did make it back to the commodore before it made clear why i was never eating mousse again.
i think i spent the next eternity of time in the bathroom. it was painful and embarrassing.
my theory is that it has something to do with an intolerance for cream, but that is largely anecdotal.
i have had a similarly bad experience when what i thought was custard (a favorite since early childhood) turned out to be creme brulee. regardless.
i tasted the quenelles unenthusiastically, and, even though they were only about a heaping tablespoon each,didn't consume more than a teaspoon.
the middle two courses were a lamb something ragu and a vennison sausage something. i forget. it was weird. i had kinda agonized about whether it was ok for me to eat them-- since i was supposed to be a pescatarian and all-- and the answer i arrived at was, well, fuck it. it's not like that amount was likely to make me sick and, if it did,well then i was just gonna have to be sick.
i tasted the spices. i tasted the textures. i'm not sure i could really taste the meat. it was weird. and, it was kinda a waste. the wine was quite good. and there will be more on that later. obviously the story is not about the food-- it is about the dinner.
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