When I was 25 (yup - gather 'round - it is yet another small segment of June's story time - get comfy - grab a drink) I ran away.
I was newly married - for the first time - for all the wrong reasons - and I was very very very unhappy, stifled and lost. I ran far far far away, Well 3,000 anyway. I moved in with my best friend, to a funky - (and funky is the only word I can find but it still does the place no justice so thank gawd for video cameras and the journalistic endeavors of said friend and I) - falling down place on the Southern California Venice Canals with goats and 90's style beats/artists and freedom filled debauchery - and an understanding that THIS was life.
I am certain the majority of these tales will make it into my long (un)awaited novel/untold tale one day...but for now, some quips....
Blair, my best friend, and I had grown up together in the same SMALL (she emphasizes small with BIG LETTERS for effect) town and Los Angeles was a haven for us in that respect. However, I missed the seasons of the East Coast. I grew despondent some days solely because I missed the smell of Autumn, the falling of the leaves, shedding of skin, change over of time that occurs when you have been raised in that sort of element.
I was sitting by the opened coffin (yes you read that correctly) in our living room when Blair walked in and saidnothing but thisCome with me. He had a gleam in his eye and a funny half-sliced smile that told me not to question him.
We walked four blocks or so down to the big mural (the mermaid one EVERYONE has seen when shots of Venice are shown in their obligatory omnipresence) where there was a movie being shot. But the thing isit was a movie supposed to be set in a season California just cannot providewell - Southern California at any rate.Winterso there were twinkly Christmas lights, and a huge Times Square style tree, sleds, reindeer and snow falling everywhere. Quotation marks aside it was magical. I cried. And he said, I brought you home for the holidays.
We walked home giggly and giddy, smoked pot, drank cheap red wine from a box, and watched All That Jazz.
We may have few and far between friends but when they matter it is FOR ONCE quality and not quantitywhich I tend to say very little about.
And do not even get me started on how I found the love of my life or why he blows me away nearly every millisecond.
Stay tunedbecause next upthe time we went to meet Allen Ginsberg at McCabes guitar shop
I was newly married - for the first time - for all the wrong reasons - and I was very very very unhappy, stifled and lost. I ran far far far away, Well 3,000 anyway. I moved in with my best friend, to a funky - (and funky is the only word I can find but it still does the place no justice so thank gawd for video cameras and the journalistic endeavors of said friend and I) - falling down place on the Southern California Venice Canals with goats and 90's style beats/artists and freedom filled debauchery - and an understanding that THIS was life.
I am certain the majority of these tales will make it into my long (un)awaited novel/untold tale one day...but for now, some quips....
Blair, my best friend, and I had grown up together in the same SMALL (she emphasizes small with BIG LETTERS for effect) town and Los Angeles was a haven for us in that respect. However, I missed the seasons of the East Coast. I grew despondent some days solely because I missed the smell of Autumn, the falling of the leaves, shedding of skin, change over of time that occurs when you have been raised in that sort of element.
I was sitting by the opened coffin (yes you read that correctly) in our living room when Blair walked in and saidnothing but thisCome with me. He had a gleam in his eye and a funny half-sliced smile that told me not to question him.
We walked four blocks or so down to the big mural (the mermaid one EVERYONE has seen when shots of Venice are shown in their obligatory omnipresence) where there was a movie being shot. But the thing isit was a movie supposed to be set in a season California just cannot providewell - Southern California at any rate.Winterso there were twinkly Christmas lights, and a huge Times Square style tree, sleds, reindeer and snow falling everywhere. Quotation marks aside it was magical. I cried. And he said, I brought you home for the holidays.
We walked home giggly and giddy, smoked pot, drank cheap red wine from a box, and watched All That Jazz.
We may have few and far between friends but when they matter it is FOR ONCE quality and not quantitywhich I tend to say very little about.
And do not even get me started on how I found the love of my life or why he blows me away nearly every millisecond.
Stay tunedbecause next upthe time we went to meet Allen Ginsberg at McCabes guitar shop
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
toneski:
you are so in love that it scares me.
mariekimble:
I love reading your journal...it's like a book club that I don't have to send back those annoying "don't send"cards to. 