tonights cast was as follows (from my left to my right):
[ben],[erin], [jasmine]*, [vic], [biggo], [toni], [smallo]
then, at the other table, and still of our party:
[melissa-wife], [gema], [fernando-husband]
such a crazily eclectic and impromptu group. and all for diff'rent reasons of course.
i can't speak for everyone else but i can say that i never expected myself to be out there with them.
a breif not-so-brief rundown of how it went down:
off at 1845 and worried about relief driver who looks tired or sad or both. spoke with other driver, exchanged concern. walked to car, phoned the mom to find out about food. drove in the direction of home, stopping once for some drive-through salads. plunked self through door and salads on table. washed hands and ate. took a moment to take in. moment over, time to make self ready. time check? eight something. shower. lotioning process. oh drats i forgot i wanted to shave. shave. re-lotion areas of possible dryness. slide hose over legs in segments. skirt, low-cleavage top, heels. dry/fix hair, jewelry, fragrance spritz. phoned [t] to find her and ask to join in. leave house. time check? nine something. no call from [r].. somewhat worried, somewhat annoyed, somewhat thinking bad thoughts about available women officers with pretty faces.. feel justified in outfit but alos feel a little like i will regret it.
coffeeshop. friday crowd of old. the husband-wife team melissa-fernando, gema, oscarr, toni. funtimes. loose talk. i find out my patented "fighting crime" phrase is now out and universal code for doing-the-deed, knockin-the-boots, tapping-the-ass, hitting-it.. mercilessly teased. lots of attractive laughter tho. really liked hearing it. feel remembered and included.
ben phones toni. toni and gema buy more smokes. i watch them cross the street with gestures of newfound attachment. in the foreground oscarr titters away at nothing. melissa play receptionist answering toni's phone. ben again.. he's coming by. we wait. renewed talk of migrating group to shakespear's pub. ben and erin arrive. we think we're waiting only for biggo now. ben says vic and his lady are coming. everyone whom we need to wait for arrives as if on cue.
gema hugs biggo. i am slightly jealous. i am replaced and resign myself to-- i'm talking to [r] finally. he's home later than he anticipated. but all is well. he wants me to come. i say i want to stay a little longer. we have an exchange. everyone in waves. once off the phone i find no one wants to ride with me. gema volunteers. she talks in the car and i'm reminded of something i read. something kahlil gibran.. about those who talk reveal their own disquiet, their own discontent.. i think about talks i've had with toni. i feel the ass. make the most of conversation with gema (pronounced HEH-ma. i don't know why i didn't think to include that earlier). religion and ritual discussed. i'm reminded of the thin layer of pudding skin that sometimes forms over home-made pudding that has been made to sit and cool. she is not cool. i don't feel cool. what is cool. she tells me she thinks we're going the wrong way. no. i'm not. we get there. she seems eager to perform.. to rejoin with a group she is more familiar and at ease with. i am the backdrop, unpaid extra. i park. she tells me i'm going to hit the curb. i hit the curb. i think we all need a point of reference but say nothing. my feet in my heels hurt when i walk.. there is a very real danger that i should fall and break every piece of myself.
the pub. kitchen is closed. server is.. irritated. i find out they won't serve melissa a drink because of some weird or lazy identification mix-up. its silly. she's had drinks there before. the damn racist english bastids! she celebrated her drinking age birthday there! i don't like this but i'm sitting in the corner. apparently they do put baby in the corner. conversation with biggo is strained. i've always felt he fancied himself better than most people. i feel small and cared for.. but roughly. he calls me subservient. did i spell that right? maybe i am. no. no maybe about it. i AM a pushover. does the world keep needing another and another? i have a five dollar guiness swimming around and through my inner-workings. my feet hurts. no one offers to walk me to the car. i feel like a call-girl working for free. i should not have expected to be.. fuckit. i walk to the car, quickly as i can. i drive. i call [r] to let him know i'm on my way. we have our encounter. our late-night evening. highlight of my stay? falling asleep in spoon formation under the warmth of covers and skin.
i put it behind me. if i don't, i will sink.
04:26 - Saturday, May. 01, 2004
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