|
Monday, Jun. 09, 2003 / 7:47 p.m. ~Why Do I Insist On Providing Titles For Days Of My Life?~ I'm eating cold potato salad, potato salad with a kick, which makes sense, that it has a kick, because Veronica gave it to me (she likes food with a kick, as do I). She said, "I didn't make it, but I brought you some", and I don't know if there was more to the story, if she brought it for someone else, or if she had so much in her fridge it was going to spoil, or who made it or how old it is, but ever since she had that happening at her house and didn't invite me, and everyone talked about it all week before, and all week after, and I couldn't figure how they didn't even see me, or know that I knew, and how they couldn't have ever read an Emily Post column, or been taught any etiquette at all, and how they couldn't have seen that it really hurt me, that I wasn't included, not even given the opportunity to say, "No thanks, I can't make it, but thank you for inviting me", ever since, I've felt weird around her. No matter now. And I feel like I need to wind down, or unwind, like today was go, go, go, all day, even when I was doing nothing, a day to remind myself what to do and when, and how much, and don't forget, and then this, and that, and write this down, and don't forget, don't forget, don't forget, and now I'm thinking about Veronica and her stupid potato salad with the kick that I had in the fridge at work all day, and I hate using that fridge, people's food gets swiped from there, you never know who's opening your stuff, or taking a bite, or whatever, I don't eat at work, I go home at lunch, but I had it in there, and now it's here, and it's making me think of her, and too many run-on sentences can't be good. And, and, and. I'm thinking of Brent, and his mom 'passing', and how I talked about him all night on Saturday, how he showed me that club, how I took Mark there that one time and we sat on the staircase that goes nowhere. And we walked past his apartment, Brent's, and I told Kukla we should stop by, and I wondered how he was, and why he doesn't write in his diary anymore. And today he wrote to tell me she's gone, his mom, and I thought of my uncle, and how I have no one left anymore, and I told Kukla, that's why he disappeared, he just wrote, and she said, "His mama passed two weeks ago and he's JUST NOW telling you?!" and I said, "Friendships are all different, she is still gone, there is no time limit, there is no prescribed time limit, we all handle grief and loss differently..." and she made me really mad. I remembered that I don't like her. Nothing has changed. I wanted company to go to the club on Saturday, and I knew she'd probably go, it wasn't that I like her. I used her. And she would've done the same. She filled a need, like a one night stand for friendship. Her manner is rude, brusque, callous, crude, blunt, sharp, aggressive. Curt. I'm sure there are more words of a certain ilk to describe her, but that was so uncalled for, she doesn't know my relationship with Brent, she doesn't know what we've been through, how long we've known each other, and to me, the timing is just right, and I'm glad he wrote to me, I'm glad he told me. And my heart goes out. My mom's been gone for years, but I know what it's like. One doesn't easily forget. When my uncle died I wrote about it here (and I was being attacked fairly severely at the same time, which made everything really difficult), but I didn't go telling everyone. When I called Nelson Saturday night, I didn't tell him. And he didn't ask, though last time we spoke I'd told him I'd just found out my uncle was dying..... Part of me was testing him, to see if he'd remember. I even asked about his mom, and his family, to see how they are, because I care. Really, whatever. I asked Penelope if Kukla told her all about our night out on Saturday, and she said oh yes, she heard. And she heard I danced, and I told her about Kukla getting so wasted, on an empty stomach, that she couldn't move, she just sat, arms crossed, and men (and women) asked if she was mad or something, why wasn't she up and dancing and having fun, and Penelope said, "Oh, really?". I guess she hadn't heard that part. So I told her how I had to move, how I can't sit still to Bossa Nova, and she said she feels the same way (not that she knows Bossa Nova, but she also likes to move), and when I said I like to have fun when I go out, she said, "I know you do, you're a fun person to go out with", because we have gone out, she and I. So many mixed feelings. All day I heard Kukla telling her friends on the phone, one personal call after another about our night out, and she'd turn to ask me again the name of the guy who played his records in the DJ booth. I'd tell her, she'd struggle to pronounce his Italian name, and ask what kind of music it was again, "What was it, Bohemian?", "Bossa Nova, baby, Bossa Nova, just say Brazilian dance music". Brazilian, yes? Must research. Must interrupt this entry to say I just went into the living room to turn on the hockey game and there, on the porch across the way, the next building, the apartment that apparently has just been rented out (I think it's been sitting empty for a while), was a man, shirtless, holding cell phone, one turn and he and I would've been virtually face to face, one apartment to the other. I NEVER see anyone on that porch, but I always think if someone were to live there, and hang on the porch, he/she could look right into my apt. Wow. We are there. Um, and yeah, he's kinda dark and handsome. I mean, he's ethnically diverse, or maybe ethnically singular, but he's not Caucasian, he's dark and mysterious. And shirtless, unh huh, like I said. Oh no, I have to close my vertical blinds now. Or maybe I'll leave them open and he can look in and watch the game. Must go. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |