 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Links LUPEC |
� |
Sometimes I have one of those Willie Wonka nights. Nights where I just can not believe how lucky I am to lead the life I lead. Nights when the pain in the ass job and the messy apartment and the creditors calling every hour on the hour just fade away, and I wake up in the morning with a sore face from grinning so wide for so long. It was one of those nights. Willie: "Charlie, remember what happened to the boy who suddenly got everything he ever wanted" Charlie: "What?" Willie: "He lived happily ever after." So one of the great things about being the girl with the most cake is that eventually you realize that you do not really have to chose one or the other. You can have all the cake, and wake up with a tummy ache but a blissful sugar high. Yeah that's me. Scene one: after work, $1.49 video outlet. Twenty dollars worth of $1.49 movies. Including Poison Ivy, More Tales of the City, and much much more. Glee. Pure glee. Scene two: waiting for the bus for 45 minutes. Sure that J* would leave the bar. Wishing she would turn on her pretend cell phone so I could call and tell her I was still coming. Scene three: arriving at the bar, she has just left, the nice waitress lady offering me the bar phone, me calling J*, and J* coming back. Scene four: great conversation, beers, and dinner. Tipsy short drive to the gallery. Scene five: arriving in the gallery, my favorite gay boyfriend and his boyfriend are there, lots of hugs and kisses and I am feeling like a MILLION TRILLION DOLLARS. Just knowing it is going to be a good night. Hanging with J*, my bassman, guitar artist, then my honeygirl showing up all tough and drunk and cute, and chattin with her and the girl, and being bonked over the head with the complexity of our relationships, and getting off on it in my typical aqaurian way. Cigarettes, cheap beers, getting to buy girl scout cookies from my favoritegayboyfriend who is selling them for his daughter, and getting off on that too. And more people arriving and my favorite boy coming in and giving me a gangster greeting and telling me how he is all drunk on russian malt liquor. And lots of talking with people and walking around and I can't decide about the punk rock show, and then he starts to tell me things to convince me without being obvious that he is trying to convince me, and it is so cute and I know I have to go. To be with him for a night. And then some conversation with a sweet boy about his cameras and him giving me a beer and then the band playing and knocking things over and being sprayed with keystone, and going to pee and running in to GAVIN which was rare treat, and emerging from below and the boy is no where to be seen and I am feeling content to go home, and standing and talking with my honeygirl who is so painfully cute when drunk, and the artworldtravellingirl showing me her notes from the train in london, where she has written about our new band and she wanted to show me that she was thinking of me on the train in london, and it made my heart skip another beat to think that things are going to be SO GOOD in the new year, and then faveboy reappears and says that it is too early to go to the punk show, and the decision is made that everyone will retire to the house with the golden door, and he scoops me up for a ride in the magic truck, and it is SO GOOD, the akward period has past and we are in fine form driving to the A+ minimart for mountain dew and cigarettes and money and we are singing made up fantasy metal lyrics at the top of our lungs and talking about stage props. Scene five: we arrive before the others and sit on the porch and smoke and talk about property values until they arrive, and we enter the house and my honeygirl goes for the whiskey and I try to reason with her but she is on a mission, and a bender, and seems quite content to be our entertainment for the evening, and scrabble is started by some folks and I am sitting on the opposite couch with my favorite boy and the girl is in the chair next to me and my honeygirl is on the floor and laughing, and I am again thinking WOW this is weird but it is also ALL GOOD, and not uncomfortable and I am happy. And we amuse ourselves for a while and then it is time to go for the punk rock. Scene six: running into the truck and talking and laughing the whole way and the street is crowded with cars and the bar is crowded with punks and we get PBRs and stand and talk and drink and smoke, and the band which is on is not so bad as we try to make out they are just because of jealousy, and they do a cover of "TNT" which makes us happy and then there is flaming and other spectacles and my boy just grinning, and then I am sitting and he is standing close and leaning down to tell me about his newest gun and the veil of hair is all around me and I am feeling quite literally like the luckiest girl in the world. And we move up for ANTiSEEN and we thrash and wail and he buys me more beers and I am thinking the band is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, all tall and huge and long metal hair and biker jackets with cut off sleeves and giant chains and huge leather wrist cuffs with studs, and the singer plays the washboard and then he breaks a bottle and mashes it into his forehead until there is blood running down his face, and I am absolutely spellbound, and thrashing and wailing. And several times I have to hide behind my big tall boy when the pit gets out of hand, and he pushes the slamming people back and turns around and grins at me. And they do a wailing punk rock version of "Paranoia" by the Kinks and I scream along and raise my fist in the air. And there are songs about professional wrestling and then of course at the end he sets the washboard on fire and shatters it to pieces, and although they have not sung my favorite boy's favorite songs we leave completely satisfied with our punk rock night. And there is more giggling and gun talk on the ride home and there is the sweetest of goodnight punkrock kisses and an invitation to visit and look at the gun, which I will not take up today as it is already one thirty but which I will take up very very soon. Scene seven: home alone I eat some leftover rice with broccoli and watch part of Poison Ivy and think happy content thoughts. La la la. And in the morning I call to check on my honeygirl and she is FINE, and the boys arranged her on the couch and gave her an alarm and a blanket and made sure she got up for work. Heartwarming. And I have some bacon and some coffee and watch some tales of the city and try to get myself going for a trip to the strip. Ah. |
� |
Site by Jilly