So last nite when I got to meet my favorite
blogger for the first time, in the middle of our very stellar conversation she said that if both of us were to write about our meeting, we'd have very different stories to tell about the event & of course we'd both be right. & later I thought about how to write about it, as I knew I would inevitably do, but when I actually tried to think about what I would say, walking thru the subway station on my way home, it felt like I was preparing a goddamn eulogy or a wedding toast or something. It didn't feel like the right way to think about it at all.
So instead I will write about what I did before I met her & maybe a bit about what I did after. When I got home from work I had a shower & I drank a beer in the shower for the first time in probably five years. That is way, way too long to go without a beer-drinking shower. Or a shower-taking beer, whatever. Then I put on my clothes & my new makeup from the drugstore because I can't afford nice things anymore & I am very bitter about that, thank you. Then I took the train into the city & I got off & walked four blocks, one avenue to the coffee shop & it didn't even feel cold out. Maybe I was still numb from the recent days of unremitting freeze, but it somehow felt brisk & pleasant like walking in cool water thru the East Village, now & then avoiding thick patches of solid ice on the sidewalk.
When I got to the coffee shop I had spinach quiche with salad & bread & read some of the
True History of the Kelly Gang, a book Polly lent me. The book is written in a strange, pretty dialect & I like that the narrator at least in his childhood (I am still at the very beginning of the book) refrains from swearing & when quoting someone who swore will instead say that they said an "adjectival" something or other. Like "You effing mongrel you're an adjectival coward."
After the coffee shop I went home. When I was walking in the door Polly called & came over for a beer. We had one apiece & then she left & then Maria came home & we talked for awhile & I couldn't make myself get tired, even after two & a half bong hits, I think because I went to sleep at 10 the nite before. Also the cat is on steroids. Maria's cat has very bad allergies to one thing or another, we're just not sure what, maybe corn gluten or something, so it's on steroids & it was racing thru the apartment like an adjectival wild thing. Careening around at top speed, on top of the highest cupboards, stretched out clawing at the windows trying to get out. It was almost sort of scary. Poor little kitty on steroids. Which reminds me that the other day I saw that stupid movie
American Psycho, & the best bit was when they're doing coke in the bathroom stall & one of them just violently freaks out on some guy in the adjacent stall & then calms down suddenly & tells his friend, "Sorry dude. Steroids." Just like our poor little cat.
