Turns out Jessica, the new Old Soul assistant, is a 24 year old Humboldt drop out (due to personal preferences, not academic deficiency) working two jobs and living in an apartment less than five blocks away, a beautiful blend of Portuguese and Brazilian, who today was wearing a colorful San Diego Zoo sweatshirt that partially covered the tattoos on her arms. This is Jessica. We have maybe-plans to go to Spin Burger this Thursday.
Saw at least eight cop cars around Midtown when I came back from Jack & Joe's apartment, high enough to have my heart racing when one of them followed me from the J Street exit down Capitol to 21st. Good thing I was listening to 90's music to calm my nerves. Discovered that "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers might be my secret all-time favorite song from my early radio-listenin' years. That and "Wanna Be A Balla," by Lil' Troy.
I woke up with Katie. We had another LOST night.
I'm wondering if this isn't how I'm meant to discover what love feels like. If I live a life where relationships and intimacy remain separate, then I imagine it will feel quite astonishing when I meet a girl who inspires me to reunite those two facets, which would be love. Maybe that's impossible. Maybe I'll never meet that girl, maybe that girl will pass me by, or maybe I'll never be inspired. There are definitely women in my life right now who I would go steady with, but I don't think I'm quite ready for that. This other way is much more fun. But I'm becoming relentless. Crazy, even, because I imagine every girl might be my inspiration, and because I fall in love ten times a day.
Katie gave me some good pointers on the robot story. We watched Planet Earth and rolled around a bit before I went to work and she worked on stuff for her new consulting gig. Last night we met up after work and walked out to Fox & Goose for spirits and pasties. She told me about her indie-movie weekend in Chico and her emotional meeting with her new boss earlier that day and a story about her trip to Ireland. Being in a sort of existential slump lately, I was glad to listen, and watching LOST always puts me in a good mood. In the morning she woke before me and caught up on current affairs, laughing at articles about politicians. Sometimes I forget she's an International Relations major until she tells me about Baby Doc returning to Haiti seeking presidency after being exiled in France, and I'm like, "What?"
I caught a big spider under a plastic cup at work today while it tried to scurry under the black leather couch, took it outside and released it in the neighbor's yard. Not sure why spiders are scary to me. I imagine each one has the ability to kill me with a single bite, or at least crawl into my sleeve and make me do that decapitated-chicken dance trying to rip off my shirt.
Fucking spiders. We will never be friends.
I was thinking about Aly today. She's fallen off the radar, faded from the story of Sacramento. Such a strange phase that was. A figure from my childhood passing through. Our currents crossing. Sometimes the most random people pop up in dreams and I wonder if I couldn't have imagined those few moments with Aly entirely. Wouldn't that be crazy?
Today is Sean's birthday, 24. Happy birthday, friend.
This life is weird. The sex is nice. The weed is good. The job is easy. The writing is positive. The people are great. The money is tight. The mood is up. The outlook is optimistic. The car is running. The heater is heating. The rent is affordable. The youth is promising. The friends are fun. The girls are pretty. The future is plentiful.
Feel like mentioning a successful round of flirting with Becca, too. She's not always easy to keep up with and I've tended to back away from the feisty blondes, so to get one of those goodbyes where she makes sure I'm paying attention before she waves feels like success.
Siobahn gets the award for best name of the night (Siv-Vaughn).
Stephanie said, "Everyone already thinks you're sleeping with Kirsten," but in a manner that allowed me to play that off as a silly rumor.
Tuesdays are my Fridays.
I still think my text messages move in slow motion.
- Left to Fry
No comments:
Post a Comment