project 365 #151: theo at the park and watercolorized

project 365 #151: theo at the park and watercolorized
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Gah, I'm hungover. I should know better than to go to DL and then, I should know enough to come home earlier and then I should know better than to invite my friend S over for even more drinks. Of course, I don't apparently know any of this which is why I'm crouched in my office with the worst headache ever and a raw tongue from salt n' vinegar potato chips.

Technology has gone too far. I heard from a friend who is in similar desperate straits to mine (the lack of male, uh, company desperate straits, not any of the other desperate straits in which I routinely find myself) and she took the bold step of approaching a guy she knew slightly and found attractive while he was crouched over his laptop at a local bar. She was all coquettish but he was busy and uninterested, at least for now. "I could talk to you the week after next," he explained, "because I'm busy next week." No, she was busy the week after next. So he added her to his Google calendar and had it send her an email telling her to talk to him in 3 weeks. Hilarious. But wrong. So, so deeply wrong.

Oh, and if the titles of the various posts & pictures & stuff are getting confusing, it's because I got all muddled up with what day it was, as in it's like the 152nd day of the year and stuff. Which is not a natural way to think of the calendar and so I had to add it all up and then go back through my Flickr Project 365 set and find the places where I had skipped a day and then renumber the ones after that. So I think I fixed it on Flickr but it won't update on the blog and frankly I just can't be bothered. At this point the blog is pretty much getting yesterday's photo anyway and you know what? That's okay.

project 365 #49: dinner party

project 365 #49: dinner party
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry.

It was one of those weekends. You know, one of those weekends where you drink way too much, steadily, continuously, and things go from one emotional extreme to the other and back again? It was both wonderful and hellish (with a lean to the hellish) and right now, Monday morning, I'm exhausted and drained and, well, sad.

The fun is all over for me again. I'm back to having to be a grownup and I'm also back to being as alone as I've ever been. Not that this is surprising; I expected it; maybe not quite so soon. That's why I have to be cryptic sometimes: things can change in the proverbial twinkling of some huge and glaring red eye. And they have. Not really for the better. The spider who was living in my shower is dead and a curled husk on the ceiling. The gates to the doors of perception have slammed closed yet again and it's back to business as usual at Hangover Headquarters.

Sometimes I wonder what gods I offended so powerfully in my last life or two, or maybe it's something I did in this one and no longer remember or maybe it's just that I'm a fuckup. There you have it and life just goes on because it must. Next year around this time I think I'll take an extended vacation in a concrete bunker under a bleak mountain somewhere because while you can live on indefinitely hopeless, happiness is a painful fucking thing.

In other news I had a party last night; it was really nice; my friends came down from Bat Cave bringing a load of firewood which was excellent and, also excellently, my friend A, using a rake and the whirlwind ADD abilities that are his trademark, totally cleaned up the horrific Dog Bosnia that Django had turned my backyard into.

project 365 #46: hangover breakfast

project 365 #46: hangover breakfast
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry.

It was a coca cola in a pepsi cup morning for sure and this was the only picture I took today; taken by the crazy hippie chick in the long black skirt and big fur hat, with her pajama bottoms sticking out under the skirt and purple plastic clogs. The only woman among the cold and half awake construction workers at 8:15 in the morning who also like the bacon and egg biscuits at the Eblen gas station on Amboy Road. You expect a person like that to whip out a big camera and take a picture of sodas on the roof of her car because, clearly, she nuts. Yeah, she crazy. It's okay.

It was a long miserable day at work, too, but you know what?

No regrets.

Uh Oh

You know how you can have this incredible fabulous wonderful night and drink waaaay too much and stay up waaaaaay too late and everything is incredible and great and you're all happy? And you make an idiot out of yourself but it's totally okay?

Then morning comes and then you have to go to work.

THAT is a problem.

Better

It's funny; I normally hate Valentine's Day with a passion and my life hasn't changed that much, but this year I just really don't care about it. It is not bothering me. I do not wish to take to the tower with a 12 gauge. Somehow, miraculously, I woke up in a far, far better mood than I was in yesterday. I feel calmer and mellower and more in control. Naturally, this transformation required alcohol: first, a two decanter sake lunch at Doc Cheys with my wonderful friend J who calmed me down, and then, after I got home last night, a vodka and cigarette on my front porch by myself. During which I realized that yesterday -

I wrote a poem AND

I took a pretty good picture AND

I made a broccoli quiche (a really good broccoli quiche.)

Thus, my life is not, after all, a waste. It's the little things. Also, then A & I went to Target to wander dazedly around in the fluorescent lights and somehow we had a really great time, laughing hysterically at all the hideous tacky valentines stuff and inspecting the housewares and just in general getting along. It was nice. It was good. And I bought a dark chocolate bar with crushed espresso beans AND a really cute little black dress really cheap. And A gave me a valentine that she had put together with her clients (she works with DD and autistic people) which was also completely hilarious. Maybe Valentine's Day will be bearable after all.

Project 365 #19: Broadways Evening Two

I went on over to Broadways tonight with my friend J, as is my wont, and it was really a great evening, even though it was a great evening in very odd ways. It was a normal Broadways evening in that I sat there indulging my unrequited crush, which is actually quite pleasant in a kind of Proustian melancholic way and then I got to laugh hysterically with J, which has nothing Proustian whatsoever about it but is great fun and cathartic to boot. Particularly when we realized how totally weird we really both are, and that neither one of us has anything that any normal person might consider as even a faint grasp on reality. Gods, it's good to have friends. And then later, for some odd reason, several people came over and sat down and told us their problems and we attempted to help. I think we need a sign like Lucy's - Psychiatric Help, 5 cents. Or perhaps we could get a profitable business going called Smart Old Chicks. Some of the problems were huge and insurmountable and all we could do was send out good vibes and hope, and some were surmountable but difficult and we could actually give advice, which was nice and felt good. I think we helped a little bit tonight and for the first time in my life I can kind of see the allure of psychology.


I went to the doctor this morning about my knee. It's not broken: I should have just listened to M, who told me firmly that it wasn't broken and I needed just to stay off it. M is often right, as he often reminds me.

The doctor (he seemed nice. It's a terrible personal fault that I look around at a crummy for profit clinic in a borderline neighborhood and then at an older doctor and think, jesus, please tell me that you're not here because you suck so bad. I invented a couple of scenarios whereby a 60-something doctor would be there - besides sucking so bad - like, maybe he went bankrupt for being so altruistic and all and possibly he was married to an evil shrew who took him for all he had and his family cast him out and, well, so on. Not like he's been disbarred or is just imitating a doctor, no, not at all.) Anyway, the older, not particularly involved doctor, moved my knee around a bit and looked at the x-rays (is it because I'm old that they didn't put the lead apron on me for the xrays? Have I passed some kind of terrible Old Woman test now? Used to be they'd put the lead apron on me even if my teeth were getting checked and I swore on a stack of Bibles that there was no baby in my future, and my knee is closer to my (barren, stony) womb than my teeth and nobody asked me a damn thing about babies today. Shit. Just bring on the fucking ice floe, already.) and told me that it wasn't broken. That's good, but on the other hand there may be something else wrong with it and if it isn't better by Tuesday I should go see an orthopedist. Also, they offered me crutches and painkillers, both of which I refused, which is how I got to this paragraph, because as I explained, at Broadways tonight to my friend J: I won't use crutches because I'm no good at them and also they hurt my armpits and make me feel stupid and vulnerable and frankly I'd rather just limp and be in pain, and I won't take prescription drugs because they scare me and make me think I might turn into a weird ass prescription junkie and/or destroy my liver because I am, as we know, a semi unrepentant drinker who prefers to treat broken bones with massive amounts of over the counter ibuprofen and liquor. I am just a medical weirdo, or, I guess, a weirdo period.

Also, I got hit on tonight. I never get hit on and so I don't know how to deal with it so it's a damn good thing J was there because she neatly averted it by telling the guy I had a boyfriend. This guy zeroed in on me and came over and told me he was in looove and bought me a drink and everything. He seemed very nice - I just wasn't interested but I was so utterly flummoxed by having someone hit on me, which never, ever, ever happens, that I just sat there with my mouth hanging open. Which I think he took for a sign of interest.

It was a strange evening all around but lovely for all that. And my knee doesn't hardly hurt at all right now but then a vodka and a bunch of PBRS and yes, goddamnit, I admit it, a half a pack of cigarettes - does make everything feel better.