03 july 2000 |
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it is july, a month of lasts.
i am moving out of this apartment at the end of the month. i'll be moving into my cousin's condo not far from here. it was settled over thai shrimp spring rolls and chinese chicken salad. it is a pit stop on my way to wherever i'm going next. it is my get out of jail free card. i am buying time, and luckily the rent is cheaper than i'm paying now.
it's like a resort: there are three swimming pools, 14 washing machines and dryers, two parking spaces and a gazebo. she has cable.
and so tonight will be our last party here in our apartment, the last time michelle and i sit in the dining room, toasting drinks and nibbling on chips and salsa while we wait for the guests to arrive, the last time our place is buzzing with people and music and laughter and chatter, the last time we wake up around noon and recount the night's festivities. it will be a good party, because we always throw good parties.
and saturday was our last rent day, when we grumble grumble grumble about how we hate the first of the month because we feel falsely rich on the payday the day before and end up just dumping it into a rent check that we slip under the crack of a steel door.
and maybe it was the last time we'd walk to the farmer's market and buy fresh flowers and fruit, sampling the slices of peaches on the way; or the last time we'd clink pints of pear cider at father's office, the neighborhood pub; or the last time we'd have coffee at anastasia's and analyze the art and clap for the musicians just wanting to share their songs. maybe i'm just being overly sentimental (who, me?), but maybe not.
because you say, "oh we still have a month left," and something always happens. life gets in the way, and all of a sudden one week, two weeks, three weeks go by, and the month is over, and you are packing your belongings back into boxes, and you are scrubbing the stains out of the carpet and wiping the dirt off the walls, and you are sitting in your almost empty apartment remembering all the times shared, and oh my god, how on earth did that happen?
Being John Malkovich was a brilliant film-- the kind of movie that is so amusing and so original you are almost sad it ends.
i promised myself i wouldn't update my site all weekend, and will you look at that. here i am.
good art: eames and ruscha exhibits at LACMA (la county museum of art). images stuck in my head: stacks of colored chairs and the word "hollywood" over and over and over again.
"we impress me."
"the eagle has landed" was uttered three times, by three separate people this weekend.
i was feeling kinda
the last time i checked.