saturday august 11 2001 | 10:24 p.m.
well. it looks like i'll be spending my second-and-last night of r&r at home. by myself. with a bottle of concha y toro merlot. and maybe some weepy old movie i happen to catch on tv. like waterloo bridge -- the 1940 version with vivien leigh and robert taylor. that would be perfect. or even better, a place in the sun, which is one of my all-time favorite movies. both heartbreaking.
denise and johnny are tied up making sushi. patrick and tatiana are nowhere to be found. amy is in tampa. julie is in bulgaria. fritz is in los angeles. daniel is in louisville or maybe boston by now. the network of friends spreading out and the threads wearing a little thin. some thinner than others, of course. but still.
all this really means: here i am with my bottle of red wine.
i miss nights at kenyon when all the towering loads of work would be shoved aside and the girls and i would drink and get ready for parties or just sit in someone's dorm room smoking or drinking or both, listening to music, shooting the shit, heading out on stony adventures in town or working it with the boy du jour or, as a last resort, scraping up beer-pitcher money for the cove.
ugh. summer-after-college not even over and here i sit wallowing and missing the place i couldn't wait to get rid of for good.
there is a huge, heinous palmetto bug (roach for the uninitiated or non-miamian) who lives in a hole in the wall behind a flowerpot in my back porch. he is a territorial little bitch. he hides out during the day and at night patrols the perimeter of the porch. i'm completely serious. he goes on his rounds every so often, and if i'm in my room listening to music and smoking cigarettes with the sliding door open, it will make its way slowly towards me to investigate the commotion. when patrick came over last week, as we were sitting out on the porch talking, the thing snuck up behind me and FLEW in a little circle around my legs, and then scuttled off to its little hole, popping back out frequently to check up on us. i'd like to say that he's endearing by now, but i just can't get past the disgust. he's out again tonight, as i found out during my last cigarette break. i left him investigating a cigarette butt someone had dropped onto the porch from an anonymous balcony floors above.
i'm on an entry-making frenzy and i don't even have anything to say.
yum. travesty or not, merlot tastes damn fine in an ice-cold glass, on the rocks.
take me out tonight
where there's music and there's people
and they're young and alive
driving in your car
i never never want to go home
because i haven't got one
anymore
. . .
and if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
to die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten-ton truck
kills the both of us
to die by your side, well,
the pleasure, the privilege is mine
