This afternoon Paul Tao and I were sitting outside of Chango, counting hipsters and making party plans. Our conversation weaved in-and-out of flatmate cleanliness to non-love lives, and birth days that are more like a Julie Delpy film (starring that guy you always see at Edendale on week nights) than a happy birth-day.
The aforementioned trip to the neighborhood coffee house and conversation lead me to two things:
Infused with a double espresso in the mid-afternoon, I got home and began cleaning my house. But not cleaning in a "tidy-up" sort of way. I was cleaning in a I've-done-speed-and-am-tweaking-out sort of way. I hoovered and mopped and swiffered; Dusted, cleaned the windows inside and outside (which entails taking the glass off of one pane when you're on the 2nd floor), I even cleaned the inside of the microwave and the inside of the dishwasher. *Insert pukey face here* My cat, Wubbe, is confused. Nothing smells like him right now. Not even the window pane, nothing on the floor. He is sleeping on the edge of the ottoman the way you would if you were sharing a bed with a distant relative of the opposite sex. I covered the couch with sheets to that his summer shedding can be doctored easily by throwing the sheets in the wash instead of vacuuming each section of the couch under-and-over for two hours. By the time I retire tonight, he'll be well on his way to rubbing his scent on the blankets and tomorrow we'll joyfully have more summer shedding to deal with. But truth be told, I got so OCD with the cleaning today that I didn't even begin to work on my bath, work, bed room or porch. I'm saving that joy for tomorrow.
Before I begin on the second part of what this afternoon's coffee stop led me to - let's talk about Lost for a second. (I'm spending my Saturday night at home, enjoying a newly nearly spotless common area watching the season finale drinking Sake2Me and eating Bewitching Yellow Curry from Leela Thai.) Counting on that you are familiar with the story line and the characters; Don't worry this has no spoilers that are too important... But are we really supposed to believe that Juliette's hair is all of a sudden THAT blonde naturally (look at her eyebrows...? Obviously bottle-blonde, right?!), I mean - since the last episode? Did the Dharma people also supply hair dye or bleach in their drops to the island? Whatever happened to Desmond's psychic abilities? He can't forsee which wire will make which go boom? I'm 52 minutes in and am somewhat disappointed. I could care less whether Locke or Ben or that army-dude G.I. Joe get offed. I miss the hobbit that used to be in the show that talked about his band the whole time. Or at least I miss when he did that.
Second place I was led: The last few weeks have been quite strange ones. Cut Copy's tour came to a close and The Presets tour started right up. Adam actually is on vacation - like a proper vacation; He had dinner with one of my besties in Memphis last night. Could this possibly inspire me to do this 'holiday' thing myself?! (Yes.) My flat mate Jeff got married. I went from exploring my roommate options, to kind of deciding that I really don't need one - and if this means that I can't have HBO and Showtime, I will survive.
I'm really not home enough to watch television anyway. I think I watch more TV when I'm staying at Paula's in NYC than at my own house - partially because her gorgeous flat-screen makes these shows look like I shot them on my own DV camera.I've also met a lot of new people in the last few weeks, and have seen a few people that I've not seen in a long while: beautiful kind faces that I wish I could see more of and faces that I don't believe even enjoy my company therefore leaving me suspicious. I've taken a couple chances of making a complete [augghhh-bleghhhh] out of myself and made good on saying "hey we should hang out some time" with a handful of people. On the other hand, I've been rather surprised by the decisions, retorts, and/or non-actions of those who until recently I've held in very high regard. People never cease to amaze. I'm a little chafed, even though I'm not quite sure why in the world I am even surprised. This leaves me with a strange neither-here-nor-there limbo: disappointed, but with new faith. After all, it is when Spring turns into Summer - it is the time to fall for people old and new - even if it is only for one week at a time.
Next week: New York City, again! I will bloody make it to the MoMA this time. It's not like I have an admission to pay, so I just need to get my ass there. I was promised a Central Park picnic lunch, and a corny romantic carriage ride to make up for some birth day drama and mistaken intentions (or perhaps not mistaken).
Things to look forward to:
Remember when I used to write about songs? Yeah, I miss that too.
© 2009-2010 celeste tabora
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