I realized that of all my failures in the last week, the #1 one was my failure to make any goddamned sense. Pretty much everything after the doctor’s appointment was straight out the Compton of my ass. So here’s a summary:
Things Were Quiet
Mon-Fri afternoon: Nothing happened. I did not step outside except for the aforementioned doctor visit, and on Friday I bought cigarettes and a soda. It took me 8 days to get through a pack of cigarettes, which hasn’t happened since I was a little child.
That Was Wise!
Friday evening, I watched The House of Yes, which always cheers me up.
Then Kim and Jonathan came over, with Amanda. Jay was stag at his prom. I harangued him, as I am wont to do, but he stayed until they kicked him out (as he in turn is wont to do).
I started feeling better — honestly I should’ve gone to work Friday but I had these very convincing flu-like symptoms I kept talking about.
We watched The OC, of course, and most of The House of Yes, again. Kim and I fought about what does or does not constitute a feminist emergency.
There was drinking. It was delicious, the whole thing, as usual. Guacamole appeared from somewhere. I forced someone to buy me dinner because I got screwed over in a particular way having to do with being left alone with someone I’d rather not deal with, for quite a while.
I let someone work out their hair fetish on me, then decided to be petulant because their “heart wasn’t in it.” I woke up with my body pressed against the living room window, reaching for the storm.
Saturday we let Kim go away with her friend and then talked no shit about her friend, which surprised me. We went to see Mean Girls, which is honestly and not sarcastically one of the best films I’ve ever seen. I will be going again later this week.
We met Lily at the theatre and I’ll be damned if she didn’t look ten times more beautiful than the last time I saw her, as usual. Jay left his phone at the theatre but we didn’t know that yet. Back at home, we began drinking again and I told Lily all about exactly how my love affair with Mischa Barton began.
The First Time I Saw Mischa Was Detriot in Sixty-Eight
It all started with a little Disney Channel film called A Ring of Endless Light which is based on a book by Madeleine L’Engle, who of course wrote A Wrinkle In Time.
In this movie, which takes place in L’Engle’s slightly-less-fucked-up/allegorical Chronos universe (the Murray books are Kairos, but tell me why I know this?), Mischa plays this little girl who is a gifted poet and stargazer, a little bit of a loner, beautiful but unprepossessing, maybe in need of a little Paxil for her social anxiety. She and her young siblings go to visit their Grandfather, a wonderful man who nurtures her gifts and teaches her to stargaze more.
She meets one boy who’s just a little bit older than her, who drives a flashy car and seems to be cocky. In L’Engle books this character (in both time zones) is always named Zach. Every Zach I’ve ever met has been delightful and lovely, but apparently this is not Madeleine L’Engle’s experience, as she clearly has whatever Christians have instead of a grudge against all boys named Zachary. It comes to pass that this Zach isn’t that bad, he just has a rich dad who owns a fleet of shrimp catching. Or dolphin killing or something. He’s a captain of industry.
Then Mischa meets this other boy who’s just a little bit older than her, who drives a flashy bicycle and seems to be a hippie. Even though he’s like 17, he’s totally a marine biologist. Then Mischa and the boy figure out that she can telepathically converse with dolphins.
To review: She is a poetess, an astronomer, and speaks to dolphins, and she has a rich boyfriend and another boyfriend who’s totally a marine biologist.
So then her grandfather dies, and she learns that he totally had her poems published (Also kick ass!) and left her a telescope or some shit. So she cries. Then she and her two boyfriends go out on a dinghy and save dolphins using her magic powers. KICK ASS. Then she goes home to her real parents.
that I had no hope of ever getting over my love of Mischa Barton, and maybe she’d stop abusing me for it.
Then she gave me a postcard of America’s Next Top Model that she’d brought me.
I told Jay
that the whole time I was watching Lost in Translation it made me think of him, because he’s the only person on this whole earth I trust. It came as a shock because I never even thought about whether or not we were friends, and it turns out we’re quite close. So that was nice.
Notoriety Is Hard Work
I asked him to set people, and especially the guy we’re calling My Own Private Jack White, straight about how I am not a FIXER, and I don’t stuff ballot boxes. Notoriety is hard work.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Jonathan read The Filth in my bedroom. I fell asleep for a bit.
When I woke up it was just Jay and I, and I told him about Phil Collins and that song where he saw the guy drowning and the other person didn’t help him, and Jay was like WHAT? and I was like Dude, even Eminem knows about that, and he didn’t believe me, and the more I talked the more I remembered, about how he would play that song at every concert just like in a fairy tale or Hamlet and eventually the non-saving-guy incriminated himself and then raped Phil Collins’ wife or something.
It got Byzantine in the telling.
So then we visited Snopes, and I don’t want to tell you what we found out, because it’s heartbreaking for me personally, although I guess it’s good for the undrowned and -raped people of the world of Phil Collins.
Then the sun came up, and we had tacos from La Mexicana, which is the place Jay taught me of back in the beginning. In the dawn of time. Then we learned that Jay had lost his phone.
Then we took a short nap, and I sent Jay off to his meeting at noon and located his phone at the Mean Girls store where you go to see the Mean Girls movie.
When do we rest?