Musings

Tonight means leftover Chinese food, Fresca, and Stoli. Summer vacation is still upon us in the Valley, and I am thrilled. I'm currently on the waiting list for a statistics and history class this fall, and hopefully will get into an online political science class, which - when completed - will mean onward to university in the spring! I have worked so hard . . . I haven't realized how much until now. I won't realize just how hard I've worked until I get my bachelor's degree.

This weekend was unexpected. It has been such a questionable few weeks, where I've just wanted to stay in bed and not go anywhere. The overcast mornings just begged me to sleep in, to stay inside and write, but the way my funds have been stretched, I can't afford giving in to anything but punching the time clock. I suppose all emotional somersaults have been worth it because this weekend was what my ailing mood needed. Enough reality to jolt my senses, but enough good times to help me see that life with all its pushes, pulls, and fuckery is pretty damned good the way it is.

There was plenty of riding on the motorcycle with my undeclared boyfriend. When we were zooming down the 405 past the Getty Center Friday night, there was this eerie sort of fog that filled the space between the mountains, and the moon was pale and shining. I was so exhausted; I felt like I was drunk. Thankfully, I didn't fall off (I'll never intend to), but it was nice to be out there. It was nice to see Kevin, looking gorgeous. And it was nice to have the EP to listen to (and prep for review), and even better? It was awesome peeling off my jeans to fall into bed.

Saturday's party was in an area I'd been before a while ago, with someone I've been missing a lot, thinking about a lot, somewhat craving a lot. It's funny how time and space does that. An evil tease it is, the cruel reality that such a blissful existence is no more. But now it's filled by people and situations that wouldn't have existed if I didn't grow a hell of a lot. So. The party. Fabulous. Thrown by Kev and his lover in a cute little space that lets in a lot of light. Cute little yard. Thanks to raised endorphins and a couple of beers I was able to let go and be Lindsey for a while. It felt so good, and hell was it ever a trip to run into a somebody I'd watched for years as a kid witness of Jehovah growing up. I had the hugest crush on him as a youngster, but I wanted a piece of everyone then. Particularly the wide-eyed, perfect-coiffed boy with an in-between build that suggested a soft hasrhness that could only attract a to-be fag hag (aka me). It was fun, though. It's interesting to see where life takes you and those you know, if you let time work and you don't rule out any possibilities. So. As the would-be harvest moon started to rise and the torches burned on, we went home. I worked. Then we slept.

And then I woke up, torn as to whether I should do the elliptical trainer, or ride the bicycle, or go for a walk. I walked a good five miles, by the busway, through the park, by the lake, and to the farmers market. Plums, white peaches, yellow nectarines for $2 a pound. "Apriums" (bespeckled plum/apricot hybrids) for free, for being inquisitive. Reddened sunflowers for N's birthday. A quick shower in lemon-infused suds, and lunch lunch LUNCH at Greenblatt's. Love. An intense feeling-up, making-out, to-the-brink session with Hollywood. Then back home, for a nap in a pool of sun shining through red shades, drawn.

Writing. Dinner. Loving past midnight. Waking up at 5:00 to his arms around me. Listening to him shower as I drifted in and out of consciousness. This morning he stood above me in his dress shirt, and for a moment I pictured pulling him down by the tie and back into bed with me, but I had to get up to go to work. He left. I worked. I'm home.

And I'm drinking my Fresca.