Last night, after experiencing for the first time in my life the human emotion they call "boredom", i decided to meet N and Crazy D at the stork club for some drinks.
Well, actually, we were supposed to meet some common friends of ours at this "art show/hip fuck/band/house party" thing on San Pablo, but then I remembered that I'd rather stick an ice pick into my eye while listening to led zeppelin then go to an "art show/hip fuck/band/house party" thing unless, of course, I knew for a fact that Mary Louise Parker was going to be there waiting for me with a can of gasoline, a lighter and two tickets to a secret Jawbreaker reunion show.
So Stork Club it was. This was my first time meeting Crazy D and let me tell you, as someone who tends to err on the side of "hate" on first impressions, I immediately liked the guy. Glasses, slight build, biology teacher by day, karate teacher by night and way too drunk to be out in public. He radiated that cross between manic energy and comforting warmth that I just love in people.
Shortly after ordering drinks a band took the stage. N and Crazy D disappeared into the crowd for a better view. I kind of slunked off to a corner by myself to watch the band in peace and got the fuck rocked out of me. Really. This band was the most amazing thing I'd seen in a long time. They were kind of an east bay TurboNegro. The singer worked the crowd with this vicious energy and was about the coolest, most good looking guy I have ever seen. Ever.
Seriously, I would have even remembered their name if they hadn't been such annoying pricks between songs. Got to work on that witty banter kids. You'll go places.
About two or three songs in N tapped me on the shoulder and said we had to get out of there. Behind her, looking dazed and swaying, was Crazy D. He looked like he wanted nothing more then to cuddle up, right there, on the stork club's filthy floor and crash out for a few days.
We hopped in her truck, threw his bike in the back and got the guy home. After saying goodbye to him and pushing him off in the general direction of his front door I asked N what happened.
"He kept saying people in the club wanted to start a fight with him so I thought we should get him out of there. Why would anyone want to start a fight that guy? He's so nice."
"The last thing he said to me before running into the crowd was 'I feel like breaking things and fucking shit up.'"
"Oh. Well that makes more sense then."
I got home around midnight, wrote this and went to sleep.
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Christmas Eve N and I bought a six pack and walked down to the bay. From the pier by my house The City is perfectly framed, dead center, and you can even see all three bridges. We played with her dog and listened to some guys near us pass an old acoustic guitar around and talk about music. We talked about christmas. We talked about christmas so much that we got christmas fever and decided to go christmas crazy.
We tore off down university in search of all things Yule. We found a christmas tree lot by my house and as soon as I walked in I knew exactly which tree I wanted.
"oh yeah... there's my bitch. Who's my mother fucking christmas tree? You are."
It was a tiny little tree, small enough for us to carry off, and only cost us $20. We got the tree to my studio and then split off, scavenger hunt style, to hunt for more christmasy goodness. N hit Andronico's for christmas food and some popcorn we could thread for the tree. I hit the dollar store for some decorations and lights and found plenty of both.
"God bless you dollar store. God bless you dollar store, everyone."
Back at my place we decorated the tree, listened to Bing Crosby, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas (see? my christmas cheer is so huge that it overrides the part of my brain that would, normally, mention that I had never noticed what a hard core christian message that cartoon ends with) and ate N's famous french onion soup.
Merry Christmas.
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The colder seasons are the time to make changes. Overcast days with firewood chimney smoke smells. The rain just explodes at your window and that's when you start making lists.
Time to hunker down and plot your escape. Camp down. Stay in. Read some books. Make decisions. Winter is when you're sun deprived and depressed enough to really dive deep and get things done.
You have to come out of the other side cold, well planned and ready to strike.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
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