The vacation to Salt Lake City: Day 1
I wanted to get a few hours in at work before I left, especially as the boss had been absent the day previous; the three of us in the office had put out so much work product that his table, where we leave said work product for his approval, was overflowing. We'd drafted about ten new cases, and I was actually thinking he may have sent me to court that morning, so I dressed appropriately.* But no such luck - I stayed huddled in my office and barely spoke to anyone. I think the boss was a little stressed out at the volume of work that awaited him.
But by 11:15 I was in my friend's car, clothes changed, headed to the airport. On a trip so short I packed meagerly so as to not check any bags - thanks to the bag I "borrowed" from sis** I was able to pack quite a bit in there. So, a couple hours later, and there I was in beautiful Salt Lake City, my friend G waiting for me.
We took care of a little business, switching cars before heading to his house, where he stays with old, old friends (known them since he was like 8 or something - more on this later) before heading back to school. We chit-chatted, I told him the brief stories of CPP and EG, about which he was rather pleased - G is one of my friends who has constantly tried to get me hooked up with someone, so those small tales made him happy. I expressed to him my "Summer of Addled" desires, about which he gave nothing but the most ardent support.
He too was experiencing the Summer of G, probably way more interesting than mine - G is the most active guy I know, or maybe have ever known, and so his summer has been nothing short of extraordinarily hectic. But it sounds like fun.
So, after some short introductions and a bit of water, we headed out in the 95+ degree heat for a run. There's a beautiful park nearby his house, which twice around is three miles. Again, G is in such good shape that I almost hesitated to have him along, but god bless him he allowed me to set the pace, which was likely a third as fast as he is used to. Also, we were chatting the whole time, which is pretty tough for me to keep up, especially after the first mile and a half or so. But I did it - we didn't stop, and walked home. Damn, it was frigging hot there.
We cleaned up, had a couple beers, and I started to meet the crew. The crew is pretty big, and I don't think I met them all; most, say 75% of them, have known one another since elementary school. G later mentioned to me that he didn't think his friends would welcome me very easily, but I think they did - much more on that later as well.
Before heading out to the show(s), we started talking about liquor and shots. I usually ask people if they've ever had an "Italian Valium," which is basically 151 and Amaretto (3 to 1 ratio, respectively); it's a delicious and dangerous shot that is a favorite of a good friend of mine. G's roomie claimed to have both ingredients in the freezer, and pulled them out along with three shot glasses. He poured the 151 first, about 3/4 in each, then poured what he thought was Amaretto in one of the glasses - upon a not-so-close inspection, the milky white substance that sunk immediately to the bottom of the glass it was clear that this wasn't Amaretto. It was, in fact, Irish Creme.
Gross! So very very gross. But having poured one, we made him pour the other two, and we all took it - like men. Imagine if you will the sight of that disgusting sight - clear-ish liquor at the top, milky white at the bottom; this shot, an accidental original, was thus named the partial birth abortion.
You know how roommates and friends have little inside jokes, catch phrases and sayings? Well, theirs, for this period of time, anyway, was a word called phlogiston. If you follow the Wiki link you'll see it's an ancient pseudo-scientific theory of a substance that produces flammability in objects (e.g., wood has it, rocks don't). They'd been pining to create a shot by this name, and it just so happened that they had the remnants of a bottle of Hot Damn!TM brand cinnamon schnapps laying around...so, a bit of vodka, a bit of the Hot Damn!TM, and thus was born the phlogiston. It wasn't that bad, actually.
Okay, so off to the concert. SLC does this every Thursday during the summer - beer vendors, food stands, music, the whole nine. G said they don't usually attend the concert per se, but hang out and chat with friends; sure enough, after obtaining beers and some food we found ourselves a nice little corner where we could stand around. One of G's friends wanted to go watch the show, but no one else seemed interested - at first anyway. We couldn't quite figure out if Yo La Tengo had gone on yet, as we were off to the side a bit. But after a while, we all figured that was them playing while we chatted.
Now, I'm a recent fan of theirs, so I don't know their stuff very well - though upon my return I've listened to almost nothing but, and I highly recommend them to anyone who likes indy rock. But there were a couple tunes I did know, and figuring they would be wrapping up soon I grabbed G's friend, a spunky, pretty little thing and we headed over to the show. So, they were wrapping up a song, and the very next one they play? "Julie Christie, the rumors are true..." Yay! One of the few songs I knew (Tom Courtenay) and was hoping to hear! It was fate. The next song I didn't know, but it blew me right the heck away - about ten minutes of pure awesome. It was their last tune, and the pretty little thing and I headed back to the group.
We went from there to another bar - kind of a weird membership required place, where someone from our group bought a membership so we could hang out, play pool and play songs on the jukebox. We were there for a little while, decided we would catch another show at another bar, and we heard the act was going on at 12ish, so we headed over there (some on bikes, which is a big thing in SLC).
In fact it was another two hours or so before she went on - Alela Diane, a songstress from Portland who was really quite talented, but at 1am, her droning, bare acousticness was enough to put me to sleep. Well, not really. She was quite talented, actually. One of G's friend had a HUGE crush on her and actually bought her a couple beers before the set, and when she finally went on, was the sole fan sitting on a bar stool right in front, gazing up at her loveliness. He was pretty sauced at that point, but on the ride home had the best line of the weekend - "Hey, where do you live?" the driver asked. "HEY! where do you live, man??" He stumbles, moans, and finally groans, "I live on 4th east...and...and Alela Diane."
Phew! I can really fill up these blog posts, can't I? Every day at work I try to be as concise as possible, so maybe this is my outlet for immense verbiage. Anyway, more to come - day 2, possibly with pictures of me and my sunburn, later.
*It's funny to think that starting this past May, I'll likely wear a suit to work every day for the rest of my working life. That is until I get a cushy teaching job somewhere and can wear jeans, polo shirt and a blazer with elbow patches. And a beard, and I'll smoke a pipe.
** can't I just have it?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
we tried so hard
A line from a song by Yo La Tengo, whom I saw Thursday in SLC. Mere hours after hopping off the plane (this modern world is pretty cool). But I wanted to share the EG tale first, in the coming days I'll tell all about my trip and its extreme awesomeness; I may also post some pics, and many of you will be getting invites to view them when I post them on that one site whose name I can't remember.
Okay, so I had to review where we were in this little story. I mentioned the talk we had a week ago, but here's the more fleshed out version:
We'd hung out with a mutual friend, then headed back to her house for more hanging out.
Of course, it was past midnight at this point - there's never an early night with EG - we listened to music and smoked cigarettes and talked for a while, but frankly I really wanted to fool around for a bit and go to sleep. But she wasn't having any of it - and I glimpsed a hint of her misgivings here, and as the night wore on, we talked our way into that discussion - what are we doing, where are we going, etc. It was pretty funny the way she'd put it - I had, at some point earlier in the evening, offered to sleep on the couch if she felt more comfortable - and when she couldn't articulate exactly what she was trying to tell me, she said, "I think I'm saying you need to sleep on the couch tonight." Laugh.
I had to tell her, I had to be honest, I wasn't interested in being anyone's boyfriend right now. I wasn't interested in doing relationship stuff, and I wasn't interested in being exclusive. She, however, was interested in all those things. She wasn't interested in being the hookup, the girl you sleep with when you're both at the same party.
She was right, too, we hadn't yet hung out just the two of us; we'd never been on a date. I told her I didn't want her to feel like that, I didn't want to treat her like that, if that made her feel bad - slutty, or uncared for, whatever. Even as I write this, I feel the faintest pang of guilt about the whole thing, but I'm not sure why. I was never dishonest about anything, she always knew where I stood on the situation. If she had been copacetic with everything (I guess you'd call that friends with benefits? no, probably still the hookup), I doubt there would be any negative feelings here. But I digress.
I told her maybe we should go out on a date - try to change the circumstances of our relationship closer to what she was looking for. She was fairly happy with that solution, or she seemed to be, anyway. I still slept on the couch, though. (again, laugh.)
The next morning we went for coffee, sat in a park and drank it and smoked our cigarettes. We talked around it again for a while, until we concluded that we probably can't force it - that we were coming from two different directions here, that she wanted something I couldn't give. What little hope either of us had held from the previous night's discussion was wiped away that morning.
So, Tuesday night, which I mentioned in a different post, was not entirely unexpected. We both knew we'd be out at the same place, as her roommate's boyfriend was in from out of town. We went our for drinks, and I'm sure everyone here knows what alcohol can do to people...we were pretty good for most of the night, but as time passed, beer was consumed, we kept going outside for cigarettes together, and finally we just couldn't keep our hands off one another. We slept at her house that night.
The next night we arranged to meet again, this time at my house. Very little alcohol was consumed that evening, and the whole thing felt like a date, sort of...we didn't do much date-like stuff, basically just sat around, I showed her my pictures and music, we talked about books. SHe stayed the night and the next day I left for SLC.
So, an awesome four days later, she picks me up at the airport, and when we approach my house I ask if she'd like to come in and hang for a bit, even telling her we can make it an early night if she prefers - what I meant was that I was under no illusion that she should be spending the night, but I'm not sure if that came across as I'd intended. Instead, we talked on the stoop to my place for about ten minutes wherein she told me again, she wasn't interested in continuing as we had been. She was into me, and I wasn't into her - such an arrangement just wasn't fair to her.
I have to say, though she was/is right about that, I have a lot of respect for her for doing what she did. I'm not sure if I would have necessarily lost respect for her had she continued to act as the hookup, but I think it's a hell of a thing for her to, for lack of a better phrase, show that kind of willpower. I'm not sure I would do the same if our roles were reversed.
The weird thing about this whole thing is, the roles usually are reversed - I'm usually the one who likes the girl more than she likes me. I'm usually the one showing more emotional (and sometimes physical) affection towards her. It's quite a strange feeling, really, and perhaps why I am feeling a twinge of guilt about it all. I don't know - but my heart is a little heavier today, for whatever reason.
Of course, the other reason why it hangs heavy today is that I heard from CPP, after sending her a good luck e-mail; she'll be gone in a week. Good news, she found a job; bad news, it's far away and really soon. I have to admit I've been harboring a kernel of hope that I'd get a chance to spend just a little more time with her before she left, and also that I'd see her from time to time on my trips westward. But those two things are dashed now, dashed I tell you.
Ah well - looks like Addled is a clean slate yet again, waiting to be painted in colors bold and bright.
Okay, so I had to review where we were in this little story. I mentioned the talk we had a week ago, but here's the more fleshed out version:
We'd hung out with a mutual friend, then headed back to her house for more hanging out.
Of course, it was past midnight at this point - there's never an early night with EG - we listened to music and smoked cigarettes and talked for a while, but frankly I really wanted to fool around for a bit and go to sleep. But she wasn't having any of it - and I glimpsed a hint of her misgivings here, and as the night wore on, we talked our way into that discussion - what are we doing, where are we going, etc. It was pretty funny the way she'd put it - I had, at some point earlier in the evening, offered to sleep on the couch if she felt more comfortable - and when she couldn't articulate exactly what she was trying to tell me, she said, "I think I'm saying you need to sleep on the couch tonight." Laugh.
I had to tell her, I had to be honest, I wasn't interested in being anyone's boyfriend right now. I wasn't interested in doing relationship stuff, and I wasn't interested in being exclusive. She, however, was interested in all those things. She wasn't interested in being the hookup, the girl you sleep with when you're both at the same party.
She was right, too, we hadn't yet hung out just the two of us; we'd never been on a date. I told her I didn't want her to feel like that, I didn't want to treat her like that, if that made her feel bad - slutty, or uncared for, whatever. Even as I write this, I feel the faintest pang of guilt about the whole thing, but I'm not sure why. I was never dishonest about anything, she always knew where I stood on the situation. If she had been copacetic with everything (I guess you'd call that friends with benefits? no, probably still the hookup), I doubt there would be any negative feelings here. But I digress.
I told her maybe we should go out on a date - try to change the circumstances of our relationship closer to what she was looking for. She was fairly happy with that solution, or she seemed to be, anyway. I still slept on the couch, though. (again, laugh.)
The next morning we went for coffee, sat in a park and drank it and smoked our cigarettes. We talked around it again for a while, until we concluded that we probably can't force it - that we were coming from two different directions here, that she wanted something I couldn't give. What little hope either of us had held from the previous night's discussion was wiped away that morning.
So, Tuesday night, which I mentioned in a different post, was not entirely unexpected. We both knew we'd be out at the same place, as her roommate's boyfriend was in from out of town. We went our for drinks, and I'm sure everyone here knows what alcohol can do to people...we were pretty good for most of the night, but as time passed, beer was consumed, we kept going outside for cigarettes together, and finally we just couldn't keep our hands off one another. We slept at her house that night.
The next night we arranged to meet again, this time at my house. Very little alcohol was consumed that evening, and the whole thing felt like a date, sort of...we didn't do much date-like stuff, basically just sat around, I showed her my pictures and music, we talked about books. SHe stayed the night and the next day I left for SLC.
So, an awesome four days later, she picks me up at the airport, and when we approach my house I ask if she'd like to come in and hang for a bit, even telling her we can make it an early night if she prefers - what I meant was that I was under no illusion that she should be spending the night, but I'm not sure if that came across as I'd intended. Instead, we talked on the stoop to my place for about ten minutes wherein she told me again, she wasn't interested in continuing as we had been. She was into me, and I wasn't into her - such an arrangement just wasn't fair to her.
I have to say, though she was/is right about that, I have a lot of respect for her for doing what she did. I'm not sure if I would have necessarily lost respect for her had she continued to act as the hookup, but I think it's a hell of a thing for her to, for lack of a better phrase, show that kind of willpower. I'm not sure I would do the same if our roles were reversed.
The weird thing about this whole thing is, the roles usually are reversed - I'm usually the one who likes the girl more than she likes me. I'm usually the one showing more emotional (and sometimes physical) affection towards her. It's quite a strange feeling, really, and perhaps why I am feeling a twinge of guilt about it all. I don't know - but my heart is a little heavier today, for whatever reason.
Of course, the other reason why it hangs heavy today is that I heard from CPP, after sending her a good luck e-mail; she'll be gone in a week. Good news, she found a job; bad news, it's far away and really soon. I have to admit I've been harboring a kernel of hope that I'd get a chance to spend just a little more time with her before she left, and also that I'd see her from time to time on my trips westward. But those two things are dashed now, dashed I tell you.
Ah well - looks like Addled is a clean slate yet again, waiting to be painted in colors bold and bright.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose
Off to the great state of Utah to see a friend; we're going to hike, run, swim, see a couple of shows (Yo La Tengo, Fiery Furnaces, Built to Spill [!]). Should be a blast.
Broke a 3-year string of abstinence on Tuesday. It was good. Having mixed feelings about the whole thing though, because on Sunday we decided it would be bad for us to continue on as we'd been, as she wanted a relationship and I did not. Is she trying to lure me in with sex? Am I taking advantage of her feelings for me? Who the heck knows. I may have to make a clean break when I get home, or at least have a talk.
Was denied for a loan this morning, so my school year may be downright fucked this year. Not sure how I'll afford school and living expenses.
Life sure is interesting!
Broke a 3-year string of abstinence on Tuesday. It was good. Having mixed feelings about the whole thing though, because on Sunday we decided it would be bad for us to continue on as we'd been, as she wanted a relationship and I did not. Is she trying to lure me in with sex? Am I taking advantage of her feelings for me? Who the heck knows. I may have to make a clean break when I get home, or at least have a talk.
Was denied for a loan this morning, so my school year may be downright fucked this year. Not sure how I'll afford school and living expenses.
Life sure is interesting!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Every moment's a little bit later
Okay, where do I begin? I feel like I lived so much since I last posted. It's been determined that this is the summer of Addled, and not a damn thing is going to stand in my way. So, yeah.
We'll start on July 3rd. The weekend previous I had bumped into a friend, a recent graduate who I'd gotten drunk with on graduation day. He gave the student speech at graduation, which was inevitable - those of you that know him know exactly what I mean. So we caught up for a moment outside the law school, and he mentioned he would be going out the night before the 4th, and would I be up for some fun? Hells yeah, I say, not yet realizing this would be the summer of Addled. So, that night itself was a blast, though not much to report on.* It was a bunch of people I sorta knew, who I'd had classes with but never formally met or hung out with. They all knew me, anyway, 'cause I talk a lot in class (though I am not a gunner**).
So adequately hung over, the next day I head over to a friend's for a friendly bbq for the fourth. There were no fireworks, no celebrations of America - in fact, I believe I may have drunkenly proclaimed we should celebrate the signing of the Constitution instead of the Declaration of Independence - yeah, I'm a full-fledged Con Law nerd. Deal.
I knew beforehand CPP would be elsewhere, and that it would be foolish to think we could be together on her only day off the entire term of her bar review (I'm not bitter, I'm not I'm not I'm not); maybe knowing that helped me have a good time, and helped influence decisions I would make later that evening.
There's a lot that's worth saying about that day/night, that maybe some of you would appreciate (including me accusing someone else of being racist in front of their good friend. Whoops!), but let's jump to the juicy bits, okay? Okay! My good friend K was there, and her roommate, whom I'd met a few times before. The Roommate we'll call S, for now, until you come up with, and/or if you determine she's worthy of a nickname - I'm undecided if she's worthy yet.
Back up about 5 weeks to a different function, a friend's fiance's birthday party. This was a damn boring party, I'll just say it. Boring people, nobody very interesting. But K & S were there, so at least I'd have them to talk to (oh, I went there with my old LC partner, whom I love, and is interesting, but she left early, as she often does), and S is a smoker, so that was cool. Actually, cooler than I'd have thought, because we spent most of the latter part of the evening alone together smoking, drinking and talking music. I don't get to talk music with a lot of people, as I am a bit of a music nerd and/or music snob. So, we had a great time. Wait, did I mention yet that this is Euro Girl? Maybe we should call her EG. A neutral enough nickname until her worth is fully adjudicated.***
But when it's time to go, K & S are all about returning to their place for more drinking and revelry. I am unsure. I'm digging on EG, but also a bit sleepy, not interested in drinking more, and most importantly, I have the first date with CPP the next night. A few days later I would think going home early would be a great decision. Now? Who knows. But in the car, when I asked my friend the driver to drop me off at home, EG was noticeably disappointed. I think she had intentions that night.
Okay, so back to the fourth. I was kind of hoping EG would be there. You know, I've been going back and forth on whether or not to share this with y'all - I don't know if what I did was wrong, or bad, or shabby. But it's a story, anyway. So, K was there, and EG eventually showed. It was a long day, filled with plenty of drink, a nice big salmon barbeque'd by me, and a weird but enjoyable game called "slap nuts." I'd have to explain that one with diagrams.
Day turned into night; we wandered down to the edge of a hill to watch the sunset. Many pictures were taken (none will be posted here for obvious reasons), many songs were sung thanks to a really good guitar player with a vast repertoire, much fun was had. The party transferred itself to K & EG's house, ostensibly to watch the fireworks from atop a parking structure. Also, EG had a little baggie of goodness, which I admit was part of my motivation.
Upon entering her bedroom and attempting to roll, at which I have little skill (I know you're all super surprised), EG turns to me and says, "okay let's get this out of the way" and plants a big wet one on me. Surprise! Honestly, I had no intentions nor expectations the night would turn this way. But let's be real, here - I'd been drinking since noon, she was pretty, and was giving me some pretty clear signs of interest. Like, you know, kissing me.
Other stuff happened. People went home, K went to bed. The aforementioned guitar-playing-friend-with-the-vast-repertoire wouldn't fucking go home...Man! Everyone else had left, I was still there, at her house, I think it was pretty damn obvious what was going on, yet there he was on the stoop, playing song after song after song after song. I had to finally excuse myself and go upstairs to try and give him a bit of a hint.
It's about 2 in the morning now, I'm lying on her bed, alone, trying not to pass out. I realize all the sounds have stopped, they actually stopped a bit ago, and I go out into the living room to investigate her whereabouts. Nobody's here, anywhere. WTF, mate? There's a light in the bathroom, but I don't go opening bathroom doors willy nilly - until I see the door's cracked a bit, so I slowly open it, only to find EG sitting on the side of the tub, reading the National Enquirer. Yeah, I know. That's exactly what I was thinking.
I'm exhausted here, see; when I drink, I don't get crazy, I don't get obnoxious (for the most part), I get sleepy. I really just wanted t go to bed. So after asking her what the fuck she was doing, I say something to the effect of, "Come on, come to bed, let's cuddle and fall asleep until I have to go to work in five hours." So we retire to the bedroom, but instead of that awesome plan I just suggested, she wants to roll another doobie and play fucking backgammon. Could she be any more ridiculous??? No. Not possible. Or maybe it's slightly more ridiculous that I went along with it, rolled another doob (a better one this time, practice makes perfect), and we fucking play fucking backgammon. She won, though I didn't let her.
Thankfully, that was the end of the ridiculousness. The rest of the night was filled with...well, mostly just kissing. We didn't do it - not sure if that's important in the scheme of things, but there it is. I was still technically with CPP at this point, though I think we all know it was over, maybe weeks before.
Do I feel guilty about it? Not really. There was no exclusivity agreement. There was very little going on between CPP and I at this point anyway. EG did know about CPP that night also, I believe K forewarned her - I actually tried to explain it to EG, but it was difficult to put into words, and by her own admission EG wasn't really interested in listening to said explanation anyway.
I will be reviewing more of the summer of Addled, which, I hope you'll believe, is in full swing right now. I have to go for a run right now before I help a friend move, and this post is pretty long, so I think I should sign off. But there will be more tales of EG, other random girls, lawyers, a close encounter with a Russian, and lots of fun stuff.
* AC, if you want I can tell you who it was I was out with - if I can remember everyone's names. Interesting group, to say the least.
** read the last definition here on Wiki - hilarious!!
*** fucking legal writing seeps into everything, am I right?
We'll start on July 3rd. The weekend previous I had bumped into a friend, a recent graduate who I'd gotten drunk with on graduation day. He gave the student speech at graduation, which was inevitable - those of you that know him know exactly what I mean. So we caught up for a moment outside the law school, and he mentioned he would be going out the night before the 4th, and would I be up for some fun? Hells yeah, I say, not yet realizing this would be the summer of Addled. So, that night itself was a blast, though not much to report on.* It was a bunch of people I sorta knew, who I'd had classes with but never formally met or hung out with. They all knew me, anyway, 'cause I talk a lot in class (though I am not a gunner**).
So adequately hung over, the next day I head over to a friend's for a friendly bbq for the fourth. There were no fireworks, no celebrations of America - in fact, I believe I may have drunkenly proclaimed we should celebrate the signing of the Constitution instead of the Declaration of Independence - yeah, I'm a full-fledged Con Law nerd. Deal.
I knew beforehand CPP would be elsewhere, and that it would be foolish to think we could be together on her only day off the entire term of her bar review (I'm not bitter, I'm not I'm not I'm not); maybe knowing that helped me have a good time, and helped influence decisions I would make later that evening.
There's a lot that's worth saying about that day/night, that maybe some of you would appreciate (including me accusing someone else of being racist in front of their good friend. Whoops!), but let's jump to the juicy bits, okay? Okay! My good friend K was there, and her roommate, whom I'd met a few times before. The Roommate we'll call S, for now, until you come up with, and/or if you determine she's worthy of a nickname - I'm undecided if she's worthy yet.
Back up about 5 weeks to a different function, a friend's fiance's birthday party. This was a damn boring party, I'll just say it. Boring people, nobody very interesting. But K & S were there, so at least I'd have them to talk to (oh, I went there with my old LC partner, whom I love, and is interesting, but she left early, as she often does), and S is a smoker, so that was cool. Actually, cooler than I'd have thought, because we spent most of the latter part of the evening alone together smoking, drinking and talking music. I don't get to talk music with a lot of people, as I am a bit of a music nerd and/or music snob. So, we had a great time. Wait, did I mention yet that this is Euro Girl? Maybe we should call her EG. A neutral enough nickname until her worth is fully adjudicated.***
But when it's time to go, K & S are all about returning to their place for more drinking and revelry. I am unsure. I'm digging on EG, but also a bit sleepy, not interested in drinking more, and most importantly, I have the first date with CPP the next night. A few days later I would think going home early would be a great decision. Now? Who knows. But in the car, when I asked my friend the driver to drop me off at home, EG was noticeably disappointed. I think she had intentions that night.
Okay, so back to the fourth. I was kind of hoping EG would be there. You know, I've been going back and forth on whether or not to share this with y'all - I don't know if what I did was wrong, or bad, or shabby. But it's a story, anyway. So, K was there, and EG eventually showed. It was a long day, filled with plenty of drink, a nice big salmon barbeque'd by me, and a weird but enjoyable game called "slap nuts." I'd have to explain that one with diagrams.
Day turned into night; we wandered down to the edge of a hill to watch the sunset. Many pictures were taken (none will be posted here for obvious reasons), many songs were sung thanks to a really good guitar player with a vast repertoire, much fun was had. The party transferred itself to K & EG's house, ostensibly to watch the fireworks from atop a parking structure. Also, EG had a little baggie of goodness, which I admit was part of my motivation.
Upon entering her bedroom and attempting to roll, at which I have little skill (I know you're all super surprised), EG turns to me and says, "okay let's get this out of the way" and plants a big wet one on me. Surprise! Honestly, I had no intentions nor expectations the night would turn this way. But let's be real, here - I'd been drinking since noon, she was pretty, and was giving me some pretty clear signs of interest. Like, you know, kissing me.
Other stuff happened. People went home, K went to bed. The aforementioned guitar-playing-friend-with-the-vast-repertoire wouldn't fucking go home...Man! Everyone else had left, I was still there, at her house, I think it was pretty damn obvious what was going on, yet there he was on the stoop, playing song after song after song after song. I had to finally excuse myself and go upstairs to try and give him a bit of a hint.
It's about 2 in the morning now, I'm lying on her bed, alone, trying not to pass out. I realize all the sounds have stopped, they actually stopped a bit ago, and I go out into the living room to investigate her whereabouts. Nobody's here, anywhere. WTF, mate? There's a light in the bathroom, but I don't go opening bathroom doors willy nilly - until I see the door's cracked a bit, so I slowly open it, only to find EG sitting on the side of the tub, reading the National Enquirer. Yeah, I know. That's exactly what I was thinking.
I'm exhausted here, see; when I drink, I don't get crazy, I don't get obnoxious (for the most part), I get sleepy. I really just wanted t go to bed. So after asking her what the fuck she was doing, I say something to the effect of, "Come on, come to bed, let's cuddle and fall asleep until I have to go to work in five hours." So we retire to the bedroom, but instead of that awesome plan I just suggested, she wants to roll another doobie and play fucking backgammon. Could she be any more ridiculous??? No. Not possible. Or maybe it's slightly more ridiculous that I went along with it, rolled another doob (a better one this time, practice makes perfect), and we fucking play fucking backgammon. She won, though I didn't let her.
Thankfully, that was the end of the ridiculousness. The rest of the night was filled with...well, mostly just kissing. We didn't do it - not sure if that's important in the scheme of things, but there it is. I was still technically with CPP at this point, though I think we all know it was over, maybe weeks before.
Do I feel guilty about it? Not really. There was no exclusivity agreement. There was very little going on between CPP and I at this point anyway. EG did know about CPP that night also, I believe K forewarned her - I actually tried to explain it to EG, but it was difficult to put into words, and by her own admission EG wasn't really interested in listening to said explanation anyway.
I will be reviewing more of the summer of Addled, which, I hope you'll believe, is in full swing right now. I have to go for a run right now before I help a friend move, and this post is pretty long, so I think I should sign off. But there will be more tales of EG, other random girls, lawyers, a close encounter with a Russian, and lots of fun stuff.
* AC, if you want I can tell you who it was I was out with - if I can remember everyone's names. Interesting group, to say the least.
** read the last definition here on Wiki - hilarious!!
*** fucking legal writing seeps into everything, am I right?
Monday, July 9, 2007
A sleepy kisser
I had a weird dream and woke up at four this morning. I got up for a few minutes, then went back to bed but couldn't get back to sleep. I pretty well remember it, which is unusual for me, but I don't think I'll retell the whole thing, except for maybe just the beginning: I was at CPP's house, meeting her family. For some reason, someone takes a big painting off a wall, and reveals a smaller painting beneath; it's a portrait of her father, as a young man. He's trimming or grooming his red beard (I have no idea if he's a redhead; doubtful, actually); the face starts to move, and then it becomes a sort of home movie. Soundless, at first, and sepia-toned, like a modern effort at an old-time type of film. Stranger things happened after that which I will keep to myself, but that moment when the painting moved, and we watched their home movies on the wall, otherwise hidden by other art, was an interesting sleepy moment.
The CPP era is now, I suppose officially, over. I'm writing an e-mail to sis yesterday morning-ish, recounting the week that was - and oh, what a week it was - she's asked, of course, of the status of CPP, how things are going in that department, etc. Had I gotten to that point (I was saving it for last for some reason), I would have told her it was going great; I had somewhat successfully pushed her further away in my head; I had become slightly more comfortable with being on the edge of her radar (if that); I had crammed my nights with activities, other friends, flirting with other girls, making it easier, for a bit.
I hadn't been able to say that, though, when she calls me. Huh, I thought, wonder what this is all about. We make it through the small talk - running, ice after running, ice baths, the fourth of july. I think I had just finished a story, to which she didn't react, except to tell me she was sorry for not calling me more often, for not having more time for me. I played the understanding guy, as I usually do, or did, with her. She says, I don't expect it's going to get any better - bar exam in two weeks and two days. Again, I understand.
And then, abruptly, tells me she's moving on August 6th. I suppose I knew that was going to happen as well, though that might have been a little earlier than I expected, or was hoping. A couple or three weeks together after the exam - no/low stress CPP - was what I thought I could reasonably expect.
So the understanding comes out again. I tell her let's chalk it up to bad timing. Maybe if we had gotten together earlier, during law school...it was a resignation, at best. She moved to withdraw, and I had no substantive objection. In spite of the fact that I had been planning on telling her basically the same thing in a couple days, assuming no positive sign from her, I have to tell you, this doesn't feel good. I've never spent so little time with someone, seen someone so seldom, and yet reacted this way. I don't know - maybe in a few days the sting will have worn off, and it'll feel silly to re-read this, but for now, I am sad. I was in a foul mood this afternoon, to the point of wanting to pick a fight with a neighbor; I chose a bottle of wine instead. Probably a good choice.
But don't give up on me, dear readers, if the CPP drama was the main pull of this here blogness. There may or may not be more tales of Addled and girls; there's one in particular, of European stock, who is crazy and weird, but pretty and smart. I haven't decided if I want to share that/those tales yet. I think maybe waiting a couple weeks would be a good idea.
For now, the plan is to keep running and eating right, get skinny and sexy, and make her jealous of not having me, even if she may be 300 miles away. When I'm over there in August and September, should I call her and hook up? We'll see, in August and September.
I know most of you think this is probably a good thing, and were I detached from the situation, I'd probably agree with you. I also know most of you well enough to know you are feeling some empathy for me as well - who hasn't been there? - and for that I thank you in advance.
p.s. I don't know why the first paragraph is 1.5 or double spaced, then the rest are single. I've checked the html, and there's nothing in there that explains it. things like this bug me, so if anyone has special blogger knowledge they'd like to share, do.
p.p.s. For the first time in my life, I may have just eaten the very first peach that I didn't really enjoy.
- ~ -
The CPP era is now, I suppose officially, over. I'm writing an e-mail to sis yesterday morning-ish, recounting the week that was - and oh, what a week it was - she's asked, of course, of the status of CPP, how things are going in that department, etc. Had I gotten to that point (I was saving it for last for some reason), I would have told her it was going great; I had somewhat successfully pushed her further away in my head; I had become slightly more comfortable with being on the edge of her radar (if that); I had crammed my nights with activities, other friends, flirting with other girls, making it easier, for a bit.
I hadn't been able to say that, though, when she calls me. Huh, I thought, wonder what this is all about. We make it through the small talk - running, ice after running, ice baths, the fourth of july. I think I had just finished a story, to which she didn't react, except to tell me she was sorry for not calling me more often, for not having more time for me. I played the understanding guy, as I usually do, or did, with her. She says, I don't expect it's going to get any better - bar exam in two weeks and two days. Again, I understand.
And then, abruptly, tells me she's moving on August 6th. I suppose I knew that was going to happen as well, though that might have been a little earlier than I expected, or was hoping. A couple or three weeks together after the exam - no/low stress CPP - was what I thought I could reasonably expect.
So the understanding comes out again. I tell her let's chalk it up to bad timing. Maybe if we had gotten together earlier, during law school...it was a resignation, at best. She moved to withdraw, and I had no substantive objection. In spite of the fact that I had been planning on telling her basically the same thing in a couple days, assuming no positive sign from her, I have to tell you, this doesn't feel good. I've never spent so little time with someone, seen someone so seldom, and yet reacted this way. I don't know - maybe in a few days the sting will have worn off, and it'll feel silly to re-read this, but for now, I am sad. I was in a foul mood this afternoon, to the point of wanting to pick a fight with a neighbor; I chose a bottle of wine instead. Probably a good choice.
~ - ~
But don't give up on me, dear readers, if the CPP drama was the main pull of this here blogness. There may or may not be more tales of Addled and girls; there's one in particular, of European stock, who is crazy and weird, but pretty and smart. I haven't decided if I want to share that/those tales yet. I think maybe waiting a couple weeks would be a good idea.
For now, the plan is to keep running and eating right, get skinny and sexy, and make her jealous of not having me, even if she may be 300 miles away. When I'm over there in August and September, should I call her and hook up? We'll see, in August and September.
I know most of you think this is probably a good thing, and were I detached from the situation, I'd probably agree with you. I also know most of you well enough to know you are feeling some empathy for me as well - who hasn't been there? - and for that I thank you in advance.
p.s. I don't know why the first paragraph is 1.5 or double spaced, then the rest are single. I've checked the html, and there's nothing in there that explains it. things like this bug me, so if anyone has special blogger knowledge they'd like to share, do.
p.p.s. For the first time in my life, I may have just eaten the very first peach that I didn't really enjoy.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
i've got an answer: i'm going to fly away
Sometimes a lyric just jumps out at me as the perfect post title, as this one did just now. It's from one of my favorite songs ever, Suite: Judy Blue Eyes by Crosby, Stills & Nash.
I'll never forget driving down to see my sister one day, perhaps for the niece's birthday or something; I was in a terrific mood, and playing this in my car, singing at the top of my lungs, exuberantly, demonstratively. I happened to glance over at the car next to me where a teenage girl was laughing at me, telling her mom to look at the weirdo in the 87 Honda there. I suppose I should've been embarrassed, but instead decided to pace them for a few more seconds and give them a bit of a show. They enjoyed it, and I did too.
I think what I like best about myself is expressed there - joy. I fucking love life (most of the time), and love to drink in all it has to offer. I wish more people were like me. Ha! That's a funny thing to say.
Just wanted to write a quick post here thanking everyone for their input. Some first-time commenters, too! Lurkers, you. Anyway, keep it up, I'm sure this saga isn't over, by a long shot. I'm trying to filter your comments and advice through my id, and make some sort of plan that is both constructive and realistic. I think what I'm most interested in accomplishing right now is chilling the fuck out and letting things be what they will be. We'll see how that goes.
I'll never forget driving down to see my sister one day, perhaps for the niece's birthday or something; I was in a terrific mood, and playing this in my car, singing at the top of my lungs, exuberantly, demonstratively. I happened to glance over at the car next to me where a teenage girl was laughing at me, telling her mom to look at the weirdo in the 87 Honda there. I suppose I should've been embarrassed, but instead decided to pace them for a few more seconds and give them a bit of a show. They enjoyed it, and I did too.
I think what I like best about myself is expressed there - joy. I fucking love life (most of the time), and love to drink in all it has to offer. I wish more people were like me. Ha! That's a funny thing to say.
- - -
Just wanted to write a quick post here thanking everyone for their input. Some first-time commenters, too! Lurkers, you. Anyway, keep it up, I'm sure this saga isn't over, by a long shot. I'm trying to filter your comments and advice through my id, and make some sort of plan that is both constructive and realistic. I think what I'm most interested in accomplishing right now is chilling the fuck out and letting things be what they will be. We'll see how that goes.
Monday, July 2, 2007
You are so oblivious to yourself
Ok, ladies. The comments from the last post lead me to believe that action needs to be taken. You can respond in comments, or by email (addledandinane@gmail.com, or any other e-mails which I'm sure that you know).
I've been doing a funny thing lately, where I assume her non-committal nature (that's a kind way of putting it) is due to my overpowering awesomeness, and she has to ignore me or she'll get so swept up in me that she won't be able to think of anything else. It gets me through the day.
eta: my willpower is poor and I called her last night. I think I'm just not on her radar, frankly. No, it doesn't feel good. I'm crafting the opening of my goodbye; what's left is the timing.
eta again: You know, I just realized that it's like 3 weeks until the bar exam. Can I hold out that long? CPP's really really bad at hiding or handling her stress. So on one hand, it's only going to get worse. On the other, it'll be "over" relatively soon. Huh, I just don't know what to do.
- Ride it out
- Make a fuss
- Have a heart-to-heart
- Ignore her until she makes some effort
- Play hard to get
- Any other option you may think of
I've been doing a funny thing lately, where I assume her non-committal nature (that's a kind way of putting it) is due to my overpowering awesomeness, and she has to ignore me or she'll get so swept up in me that she won't be able to think of anything else. It gets me through the day.
eta: my willpower is poor and I called her last night. I think I'm just not on her radar, frankly. No, it doesn't feel good. I'm crafting the opening of my goodbye; what's left is the timing.
eta again: You know, I just realized that it's like 3 weeks until the bar exam. Can I hold out that long? CPP's really really bad at hiding or handling her stress. So on one hand, it's only going to get worse. On the other, it'll be "over" relatively soon. Huh, I just don't know what to do.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Take off your Band-Aid 'cause I don't believe in touchdowns
Believe it or not, that's a real lyric. From Wilco's fantastic I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, off Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, an incredible album. I am currently listening to their new album, Sky Blue Sky, which so far is amazing. Any of you know Wilco? I bet AC does - but I underestimate everyone's musical knowledge. I was pretty surprised when she'd heard of Belle & Sebastian, so now I think she knows everyone. Well, I bet if she doesn't, McKee would. He's cool like me.
But that lyric - what the flying fuck does that mean??
Back to Thursday night for a second. CPP and I both run in that running group I've mentioned, and the week previous we had sat together afterward and had a good time, though without much conversation. Anyway, I thought it was a safe time to hang out, in contradiction to her "not in public" policy, which I am actually pretty comfortable with; but on Thursday it was ice cold - she basically ignored me, though she, her friend D and I were standing at a table together. The normal me would be pissed, or hurt, or something, at that, but for some reason, it didn't then nor does it now really bother me.
The best part of the night, and I have no idea what made me remember this, was when I was at the bar getting a drink, hovering near an old man with a terribly distorted tattoo on his arm. He was just sitting there, drinking, ostensibly alone; I decided to ask him about it, hoping for a good WWII story or something. What I got was puerile small talk about how 50 year old tattoos fade over time. I say puerile, but not necessarily in the negative sense. I was just hoping for a little more.
This reminded me of this great photo essay I found the other day on reddit - a site you should all read. Photos and briefs stories of men and women who've (for the most part) lived in three centuries - amazing.
Makes me want to reconnect, or just connect, with my grandparents. My maternal grandfather is showing signs of going crazy, my maternal grandmother is the same bitch she's been all my life, and probably her whole life; my paternal grandmother I simply do not know very well, not after a visit some twenty years ago (!) that revealed her rampant racism. Nevertheless, what I wouldn't give for their life stories! What I wouldn't give for a few hours of stories from the 30's and 40's. Maybe this is a somewhat recent thing for me - my enjoyment of history. I don't know.
When I was in college, for those who don't know, I was a theatre major. We did a play once that was set in the 40's - in fact it was called The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940. In said play I had three (or so) long monologues listing off famous film stars of the day. That winter I happened to be visiting my Nana and Grandad, who had been divorced for about 14 years and enjoyed a rather chilly friendship. But that night they decided to keep things civil, as their grandson was in town visiting. I thought it might be fun to whip out the script and share with them those monologues. Man, what a great night that turned out to be! I read from the script and they reminisced about the times they actually saw these stars in the theaters as youths. They had the best nicknames then, too - Bunny and Rusty. Bunny and motherfucking Rusty!!! Awesome.
It would only be for one night, but goodness me, it was something to behold. Perhaps only sister-of-mine can truly appreciate the specific joy I felt at these two particular people rejoining, if only for a couple hours, in their youthful exuberance.
What is the lesson here? I have no idea. Maybe there is no lesson - just a general stop-and-smell-the-roses types of vibe. Or, maybe, ask your elders about their lives, their stories will reveal more than you can imagine.
But that lyric - what the flying fuck does that mean??
- - -
Back to Thursday night for a second. CPP and I both run in that running group I've mentioned, and the week previous we had sat together afterward and had a good time, though without much conversation. Anyway, I thought it was a safe time to hang out, in contradiction to her "not in public" policy, which I am actually pretty comfortable with; but on Thursday it was ice cold - she basically ignored me, though she, her friend D and I were standing at a table together. The normal me would be pissed, or hurt, or something, at that, but for some reason, it didn't then nor does it now really bother me.
The best part of the night, and I have no idea what made me remember this, was when I was at the bar getting a drink, hovering near an old man with a terribly distorted tattoo on his arm. He was just sitting there, drinking, ostensibly alone; I decided to ask him about it, hoping for a good WWII story or something. What I got was puerile small talk about how 50 year old tattoos fade over time. I say puerile, but not necessarily in the negative sense. I was just hoping for a little more.
This reminded me of this great photo essay I found the other day on reddit - a site you should all read. Photos and briefs stories of men and women who've (for the most part) lived in three centuries - amazing.
Makes me want to reconnect, or just connect, with my grandparents. My maternal grandfather is showing signs of going crazy, my maternal grandmother is the same bitch she's been all my life, and probably her whole life; my paternal grandmother I simply do not know very well, not after a visit some twenty years ago (!) that revealed her rampant racism. Nevertheless, what I wouldn't give for their life stories! What I wouldn't give for a few hours of stories from the 30's and 40's. Maybe this is a somewhat recent thing for me - my enjoyment of history. I don't know.
When I was in college, for those who don't know, I was a theatre major. We did a play once that was set in the 40's - in fact it was called The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940. In said play I had three (or so) long monologues listing off famous film stars of the day. That winter I happened to be visiting my Nana and Grandad, who had been divorced for about 14 years and enjoyed a rather chilly friendship. But that night they decided to keep things civil, as their grandson was in town visiting. I thought it might be fun to whip out the script and share with them those monologues. Man, what a great night that turned out to be! I read from the script and they reminisced about the times they actually saw these stars in the theaters as youths. They had the best nicknames then, too - Bunny and Rusty. Bunny and motherfucking Rusty!!! Awesome.
It would only be for one night, but goodness me, it was something to behold. Perhaps only sister-of-mine can truly appreciate the specific joy I felt at these two particular people rejoining, if only for a couple hours, in their youthful exuberance.
What is the lesson here? I have no idea. Maybe there is no lesson - just a general stop-and-smell-the-roses types of vibe. Or, maybe, ask your elders about their lives, their stories will reveal more than you can imagine.
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