Being an Account of the Weekend spent with Miss K. Wood



Originally uploaded by Jacob Clifton

Thursday
I don’t really remember. I think I was flaky on Thursday. Or else I had a lot of fun. I didn’t have any assignments. This might have been a day that I had a meal with JD in preparation for TV night, but then there was a show, and I didn’t go. Or something.

Friday
Kelly arrives at The Gloria earlyish, and discovers that I don’t keep food in my house. Dinner with WS, SS and EM at the Tavern, my new obsession. I find I am bi-curious about sports bars right now in life. Kelly is amused.

We attend zinereem’s show at the Hideout; it is masterful. Major awkwardness as we make the transition from internet friends to actual flesh and blood people; Kelly is amused.

Trip to LaLa’s, where insane normal boys make conversation with amputees and strange customer service liaisons are subtly arranged. Every guy is terribly hot but with one fatal flaw, usually related to extremely jacked-up teeth. Kelly is amused. Chisme and drunk talk; to bed after 4AM!

Saturday
Up relatively early for a trip to Whole Foods Mothership, where a chance sighting of blueberry/pomegranate soda becomes an entire champagne-doused cheese and beer party. It’s 1:30 when inspiration strikes, invites are issued using Technology for 3PM knowing that means 4:30 in Austin Time, everybody arrives at 4:45. Perfection. Swimming plans are made; the skies open up and reign down a mighty ha-ha-ha. Met Kelly’s friends Cody and Kristen, who are amazing. The hilarious MM, wonderful JBS, deflated Hicks, probable others. Everybody has a great time anyway, and some people even go swimming in the rain. Nobody gets struck by lightning.

Well, basically. It occurs to me at this time, quietly and secretly, that my dependence on Y, and the severe lack of oxygen I experience when he’s traveling, has to do with the fact that My Glad-Eyed Bear left town, and that’s where my oxygen used to come from, even if I didn’t see him for months. Like a houseplant, or like the kind of friends you are lucky to find. Y does not understand this, and thinks that Lost In Translation is about romantic love. It’s about both things individually — romance in the classic sense and love in the universal — but together — as a romantic love story — it falls apart. There’s no explaining this to Y, and why would you? I’ve got The Bear already. Let Y twist, that’s my motto.

Split and meet up again for dinner at Hyde Park with the aforementioned, plus the sparkling AG and the perfect DPS, who brings a slamtastic birthday present. He’s the only boy in the world that will remember your passion for F. Scott Fitzgerald. My behavior at the restaurant is not … an outstanding example for the young people of today, but certain JBSs and others are I think charmed. JBS becomes quite a theme for Kelly’s visit.

A late-night jaunt to Beauty Bar results in a near-miss on some pretty ugly choices regarding boys, but everybody’s too exhausted to do anything truly stupid. AM Syndicate becomes my new favorite band; Golfball wears a giant afro wig all night. Of course she does. Everywhere there are women dressed as slutty lunch ladies; this is what passes for burlesque now. JD is on FIRE. You gotta look at JBS through a hole in a paper plate. I just learned these things lately. I am one week from totally triangulating on JBS and neither of us know it yet. DPS is the love of my goddamn life, but we already knew that. It is all happening and it is all good. Bed by 2:30 or 3?

Sunday
Brunch with Kelly’s friends Cody and Kristen at Taco X-Press, who are amazing, then a little shopping, then a tour of their lovely home, and then back to the Gloria to rest. A perfect, lovely day, and perhaps the best weekend of my life.

To Kelly!

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