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It's cute you think that.
Jul. 4th, 2005 01:27 amI was all ready to go to bed but then I learned I'm having a night alone and suddenly I'm all "woo! woo! spring break!!" and how did it get to be after 1 am and how am I so buzzed on 1 glass of red wine except maybe I'm just tired and in a good mood and damn Debussy is such a drama queen composer and I went to a wedding at this estate in the northern suburbs that was modeled after 18 century Venetian castles and the surrounding gardens and grounds were exquisitely gardened and had statutes of various gods and goddesses and off to the side was a pen of pea birds (peacocks and related fowl in stature) that would occasionally crow. Ca-CAW, I'm a bird! Who knew peacocks crowed. Well, I do, and now so do you.
The wedding dinner took FOR-e-ver to be served but I was sitting next to these two lawyers from Indianapolis and I always find these het couples with fabulous interesting charming women and mediocrely interesting men, what's up with that? So I had a little crush on her, but only in that "we're sitting next to each other at a wedding and ready to make inane small talk except, hey, you're actually smart and funny and interesting and laughing at my jokes" way. Even when I said goodbye, she stood up and hugged me and wished me luck on my writing. I was a little touched. Educating Esme got a little tipsy and she's utterly charming while drunk and thanked me profusely for coming to the wedding as her rent-a-boyfriend and being as good of a dancer and mingler as I promised.
I came home and wrote 400 words and tried to read John Gardner but he was getting on my nerves so I switched to Charles Baxter and he was too casually self-important so I poured myself the rest of the wine from the back of the pantry and now I'm trying to decide who I'll take to bed with me. One of the aforementioned boys or perhaps Edith Wharton. Maybe I'll watch porn instead. Or do both. Cause, hey, I'm all alone and if I want to fall asleep at 2 am while reading myself poetry aloud to the tune of Ravel's Bolero, I can. And that fcking rocks.
The wedding dinner took FOR-e-ver to be served but I was sitting next to these two lawyers from Indianapolis and I always find these het couples with fabulous interesting charming women and mediocrely interesting men, what's up with that? So I had a little crush on her, but only in that "we're sitting next to each other at a wedding and ready to make inane small talk except, hey, you're actually smart and funny and interesting and laughing at my jokes" way. Even when I said goodbye, she stood up and hugged me and wished me luck on my writing. I was a little touched. Educating Esme got a little tipsy and she's utterly charming while drunk and thanked me profusely for coming to the wedding as her rent-a-boyfriend and being as good of a dancer and mingler as I promised.
I came home and wrote 400 words and tried to read John Gardner but he was getting on my nerves so I switched to Charles Baxter and he was too casually self-important so I poured myself the rest of the wine from the back of the pantry and now I'm trying to decide who I'll take to bed with me. One of the aforementioned boys or perhaps Edith Wharton. Maybe I'll watch porn instead. Or do both. Cause, hey, I'm all alone and if I want to fall asleep at 2 am while reading myself poetry aloud to the tune of Ravel's Bolero, I can. And that fcking rocks.
