Citrus & Water

October 6 2008.

A good weekend, mostly. One simple night of work and letters, and Liza coming over all crazy, lying on my bed and giggling while I showed her silly movie clips. Friday was faster, we put on our peacoats and headed to a courtyard, where I bit my nails and watched Liza climb up a million miles of steel in her patent leather heels. We danced a little, but there were pauses between songs, and it was Clemens’ birthday, and he gave us some wine, and told me I would find someone, that I’m beautiful. We escaped to the crackhouse after, and made turkey sandwiches full of mustard, finally had Liza try that limeade (the one that tastes like love and slushies and delicious!) in big black mugs, and talked about how boring it is not to like anyone, and wrote down quotes that aren’t, and then curled up and went to sleep. Liza slept Saturday away, and I sipped emergen-c from that large brandy bottle and did some work, and read the WSJ in the sun outside, it was just warm enough- lovely! Then, the gym and I ate lots of green things in cups, and some pieces of cheese, and filled my body up with water and sunlight. That evening, we wandered to the photoshow, which was full of people on drugs and too much of things, Kevvy and M. were there, sucking on citrus, decked out like circus performers and prostitutes. Liza and I were clear-headed, the photography was stark and intricate and fascinating- I wanted to take some of them home. And although I know it was purposeful, I’m sorry I missed you, I almost went home after the show, wandering and hopeful. I do bury things.

But I stayed, and we made Annie’s later on, in a pan that barely boiled, in the Manor kitchen while hundreds of drunken, lost kids wandered in and out from the danceparty- one boy stripped off his shirt and ran screaming out behind the tall building, into the darkness, while I told another girl to keep drinking water, get a cup instead, keep drinking water.

The driving course today was only four hours, so I was able to make lists and read things and send emails, before gym with Liza where we saw Gavino (happily!) and then cooked a small pizza in a frying pan. I rescued my plates and found some fabulous foodie sites, and things are nice.

All the same, I’m up in the middle of the night coughing again, sleepily grasping around for my inhaler, which is never where it should be. One of these days, I will be calling my doctor in the morning.