07 august 2000 | back | archive | forward | girl | sign | e-mail

my apartment is almost empty. like an ex-boyfriend, i can't bear to leave it.

last night, we rolled out our bedsheets and blankets on the living room floor, toasted glasses filled with white wine and talked about jobs and boys and homes -- how they exist and change in our lives. what were we toasting? we were all melancholic for the past and uncertain of the future, life moving so quickly like headlights passing on the freeway.

"i'm not sure what this tastes like, but it tastes like something."
"like ginger ale."
"like it's flat."
"like dirty water."

afterward, i took a hot shower and the water felt so good against my grimey, sweat-stained skin. it had been a long day, and an even longer weekend -- although it went by like a flash.

friday: an afternoon of packing followed by an evening of dining. michelle and i traveled down memory lane over coffee and drove to the airport, listening to the mixed tape i'd made the night before. my flight to vegas was delayed and would not leave until 1 hour later (which of course became 1 1/2 hours, just because). i spent the remainder of my night in the airport thinking it was earlier than it was. "at 10:15pm, i'll call maura and peter to let them know i'll be late," i thought, "because they will have arrived by then." at 10:15pm, people were boarding the plane because it wasn't 10:15 at all. it was 11:30pm. it's time to buy a new watch; it keeps stopping in hour-long intervals. four hours total travel time, the same amount it takes to drive.

saturday: i arrived in vegas at 1am. "guess where i am?" i asked peter, calling his cellphone with mine, while waiting for the shuttle to go. "the airport?" yes, i said, and i'm on my way. viva las vegas. i counted 11 cowboy hats -- three of which were spotted in my last five minutes outside the front lobby. one was silver with sequins. i won $10 on the quarter slots, twice. i gave the money back, unintentionally. i lost my wallet. i found it. we played the banana republic sales racks and all walked out winners. i also won an orange teddy bear. his name is orange-you-glad-i-didn't-name-you-yogi-the-lopsided-eyed-bear. it wasn't my idea. impressions: nice people, good food, bad music, worse fashion. i've been to vegas way too many times.

sunday: we went to bed 'round 1am. at 3am, i went to the bathroom, but there was someone already in there. i forget his name. splish splash, he was taking a bath. "it's okay," he said. "i'm decent." i had to go so badly that i drew the curtain and went. it reminded me of a night in paris when boys and girls alike peed under a bridge by the seine. we were having a party; drinking entire bottles of wine make you do things. i hear the boy in the bathroom is married now. some chick in some chapel, a ceremony performed by elvis himself. i woke up every half hour, a paranoia tactic so that i wouldn't miss my flight, and finally pulled myself out of bed at 4:15am. 4:30am, i was sitting outside the hotel trying not to fall asleep. 5:30am, i was boarding a plane. 7am, i was finding a cab. 7:15am, i was fending off advances by my cab driver named james, "but they call me peanut." he used to sell hotdogs in maryland. now he's a comedian taking acting classes.

there was more, of course, there's always more. photos might fill in the blanks. memories will take care of the rest.

i feel like i'm writing a telegram, and in a way i am since i'm between homes right now, typing hurriedly after work on my speedy PC and T1. i won't sit at my own computer in another day, probably two or three.

crazy weekend. stop. so tired. stop. wish you were here. stop. must go. no time. talk soon. stop.




my friends are my heroes. who are yours?

also. feeling. a little. cranky.

maarte (mah art' teh) means "artistic" in tagalog. it is also a new webzine put out by new york-based nonprofit organization, arkipelago. my friends erna and brian did a fabulous job.

"if you took me with you, i woulda bought you a fucking mansion," peanut, my cab driver.

blank walls are a perfect metaphor. like a glass half-filled with water.

my moody mood