Mmm, effervescent

My brother introduced me to Kombucha when I visited him in New York last November. GT's Kombucha: I first tried the Gingerade, which is a combination of the miracle-stuff plus pressed ginger, and it tickled my innards so much that I've been trying to find it out here since I came back home. I finally found it at an LA farmers market, and today they were on sale... a branch of the stuff called Synergy offered my flavors of Cosmic Cranberry (sitting to my right, half-empty)... Guava Goddess and Gingerberry are chilling in the fridge as we write. I've got to say that I'm not the purest being in the world. I enjoy a decent-sized amount of corruption here and there. But with the guilt comes the detoxing, the fasts, the cleanses, and with that comes the Kombucha. I stick by the idea that one's body is a temple for sure, but mine is a nondenominational one - let the parties commence, just take care to leave it presentable when you're finished, or when there are visitors.

More importantly, the stuff now is added to a long list of things that I associate with my brother, which I like to call Comfort Quirks...

milk chews
pistachio nougat
french-pressed coffee
pomegranate sorbet
Jeeves & Wooster
yellow raincoats
green Doc Martens
red and black Pandas
and so much more...

I've a second birthday party of sorts to rest up for tonight. Steven and I got up and out of the house way too early this morning and crossed out of a lot of errands. At this point, I'm all for lazing about until at least 6:00 pm.

The weekend has only begun.

And no, there will not be any time to watch the Superbowl tomorrow.

Wine, woman, and gall

This weekend turned out a lot better than expected...

I'd intended on spending the better of the weekend with my boyfriend, but due to impromptu sickness on his end and an impending final on mine, it was decided that it'd be best that I stay home. Needless to say I was rather bummed. I recall heading home from work on Friday wanting to punch a wall, but eh - what are ya gonna do? That evening I studied, and watched the dog while my housemates headed to an annual corporate Christmas party. Saturday afternoon was full of studying as well, and a fair brunch at a kitschy eatery in Studio City. More studying occurred until I got an email follow-up about a Garden Party in Hollywood that I wasn't going to be able to attend, but since I was home I made sure to re-jump on the chance. EXITMUSIC was the band, and they are indeed a good listen. Incidentally I'll be writing about the experience shortly on BeatCrave, so be sure to check it out in the next coming days...

After the show I figured I'd go for dinner, perhaps at Fred 62 or somewhere else up Vermont, so I called my friend Erik, who was at a houseparty of sorts in his building. The gist of it ended up being that the party would start on the top floor, and would make its way steadily downward to the bottom floor. The building is four floors - I made it to floor two, and therefore made it through shots of tequila, mulled wine with cloves, a tequila sunrise, mojitos, sangria, and pseudo-white russians. I memory-banked a lot of new faces, and emitted sounds of amusement at each pit stop; however, my mind had the decency to black out when we got back to his apartment. I found it comforting upon waking this morning to be half-naked in bed with an old flame and know out of mutual respect there would be no residual nether-region soreness as the day would go along. It wasn't long afterward that my liver and brain began to hate me - until about noon today, until I quelled the resulting headache and nausea with poached eggs & salmon a la Madame Matisse.

This afternoon, I grocery-shopped in NOHO, walked home, and studied.

Not a bad weekend, for being completely and totally off-the-cuff.

Weekend update

It only started feeling like the Halloween season after roaming around through Target last night, looking for spare bicycle tubes for today's 60-mile ride - stopping by in the Halloween-y aisle to look for devil horns. It's been an interesting season, all right. I think with the pussy punches thrown by McCain's camp during the election race, and the various global financial corruption/issues and everything (and taking the angry calls as a result of my place-of-day-job's missteps), it's going to be a difficult holiday season. So difficult, especially for those who lost their jobs recently, or not so recently, or who have been looking for work for a longer time than expected. I still plan to enjoy as necessary, or warranted (I'm drawing up a Christmas list for prioritizing as we speak). I didn't celebrate holidays as a kid, but can thoroughly understand why as a 'grown-up': we all need a reason to throw a kick-ass party. From late October to two weeks after the Rose Parade in January, it's a relatively pleasant time. It's probably my favorite time of year.

And for the record: it's not that I don't like John McCain. He's a grandfather figure that I went without as a child due to time and unforeseen occurrence. He might be a great person to learn life lessons from or to listen to as he regales stories about his time in the army - I really mean it - but I don't think he should be our President. Even more so with Palin on the ticket. She's friggin' hot - but that doesn't mean there's much upstairs to benefit the nation. That and the Republican camp (in this election specifically) has been despicable in their role as Fucking Lynch Mob. There is no way in hell that I'm voting for "those ones" - and that's as political as I will get in print.

So yeah. We went on a 60-mile bicycle ride today (57.6 miles, if you want to be specific), from Pasadena to Long Beach. I am tired. For some reason this ride was a lot harder than others of the same length - I'm thinking because of the bike path in particular had a lot of these dips and raises in succession, and it was ah. . . too much. But I like being able to say that I cycled down to the Queen Mary from the foothills. We'll do it again - hell, we'll probably do it to Long Beach and back - but we'll work on it. Today was just enough.

I'll be featuring a strictly-photo post sometime soon.

I hope everyone had themselves a good weekend.

Even keel

I don't want to jinx myself, but I haven't been feeling as crappy as I had been earlier this year. I think it has to do with acceptance that things are never going to be perfect, and that I'm not always going to be happy. Like any other emotion, you can't always be mad, nor can you always be sad. If you're happy all the time, then you're lying to yourself. It's not possible if you're over the age of five.

I've decided to settle on contentment. Feeling okay. That is a constant I can deal with. There might not be enough money in the bank account until Friday. I might not be able to buy flowers on Sunday. No sugar for my oatmeal. No happy ending despite 20 minutes of effort. The bus, 15 minutes late. My toast, burned and black. Can't change it. Life isn't always going to be spectacular. Can only move on to the next moment, drama-free. I won't always feel this neutral, but I'm a long way from how I've been feeling the last five years. Probably the best I'll ever be.

The weekend went nicely. Didn't do much; just watched movies, toured my boyfriend's new neighborhood (very family-oriented, with plenty of schools, parks, and homes), went for a bicycle ride this afternoon, drank much much tequila with limes & tangelos, and got some writing done. Made it back in LA not much after 9:00 pm, with plenty of time to get some sleep before the workweek starts, and to study for an essay exam on Tuesday. So ideal, this middle ground. It's all I could want at this moment.

Happy place

Friday night late-night corporate breakfast
Saturday housewarming party on the lawn
catching the Gold Line at Del Mar to Union Station, to Los Feliz
a few-hours-long spoken word/poetry reading on Vermont
red, red wine, the first time since Parsons in '06
veggie royale at Fred 62
cheesecake, "Barrack is Beautiful", "Rehab is for Quitters"
lights off, love on
one review down, three to go
brunch, with him and his best-laid plans
anticipating afternoon sleep

We're alive

It's so interesting the things you can realize as time passes on. Years, months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds. Seriously. Time is a gift in that - should the beholder be open enough - it allows perspective and knowledge and understanding to kick in. It allows change to occur, people to grow up, hands to be thrown up and feet to keep walking in the opposite direction. It's a gift to be fully appreciated, or so it has been in the last few years. No matter how raw emotion can still be after dead and gone past situations, I am thankful for time. By way of experience (work, relationships, education, family), I have gotten better with time. People in my life bearing closed personages have come and gone. This generation, space, and time have allowed me to be and remain open, so I can only assume I will get even better.

This weekend has been fulfilling. With it being work-free, I was able to relax, to sleep off pervading moods, to hydrate, energize, and be for a while. The best part so far has to have been - not my friends simulating how to use the exercise ball in our living room for better gravitational positioning, if you know what I mean, but - finally getting my nephew's occular attention, as he loves to take in everything visually. This evening he stared at me with his deep, dark brown eyes, wide and clear, expecting more funny faces and wriggling of my eyebrows. He smiled at me. Totally and fully.

His reaction has attributed to one of the best feelings in my world so far.

Support

My brother[ and CO.]'s website is outstanding. Do yourself a service and check it out.

This weekend I don't have to be concerned with much in relation to writing, since the site is expanding and I just buckled down and got Friday's and Monday's posts in by last night. I love writing, don't get me wrong. It makes the nine-to-five bullshit obsolete and therefore life is rich. In fact I'll again be listening to Citizen Savant's EP and will be jotting some descriptive phrases tomorrow when I get home from the dentist, but being done with the scheduled bits is a good feeling. Everyone needs a weekend off.

I arranged to have next Thursday off from work. I'm so happy about that.

Friday will be a half-day, and during that long weekend, my undefined boyfriend and I will be together in celebration of our two-year anniversary. I think we'll stay in bed and watch television.

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.

I'm the virus

So apparently the cure for a hangover involves more than coffee and water. Today's cure involved

dark-tinted rose-colored sunglasses
not listening to the iPod during the morning commute
a breakfast burrito (hashbrowns, eggs tomatoes, sour cream, etc.)
a liter of water
and leaning far, far back in the office chair with my slip-ons off

I drank that liter this morning and have yet to use the facilities. My liver must want out, but I'm feeling worlds better than when I woke up this morning. Now I can go back to being torn between seeing Pineapple Express or going to the grocery store after I escape from work at 1:00 pm.

Thank Buddha the weekend is almost here. We'll be seeing Citizen Savant at The Mint tonight. I wish that Fred 62 was on the way. Perhaps with a little prodding, I can make it so. . .

No kidding

On the bus ride in to work I found myself looking forward to the weekend. Tomorrow at a little after 5:00 pm, I'll be south-bound on a Pacific Surfliner to spend said weekend with my boyfriend, who will soon be moving from the shore to the foothills to be closer to work. Until then, waking up to a misty marine layer on Saturday and Sunday mornings is more than enough prize to behold at the end of the week.

We all need a little something. Daily somethings, for instance: sunlight picking up the green in a new leaf; the sound of nothing; a hot shower; an apropos text message. Good sushi for lunch, mango milk chews after 2:00 pm, green tea boba on the weekends. Et cetera.

The best things in life are free, yes. I truly believe there are plenty of delights that money can't buy. Still, it won't kill me to have a twenty in the event that I'm wrong.