Tina asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday a while ago. I said I wanted a bird-themed rave. I created a set comprised entirely of songs called “Bird” or “Birds” or songs that mentioned birds or included bird sounds, and made pineapple, basil & lemon cocktails and “spiritual pizza.”
Cool Connor made me an excellent track entitled “Bird Man”, and both River and Bea gave me artisanal vegan cheeses. A scent I associate with this time of year is star-gazer lillies, which Bea combined into a stunning bouquet. Standing around the fire Benji asked: “ARE YOU READY?” and jumped around yelling “BIN BIN NIB NIB!” until handing me a bag of tabs.
My cool and smart friends are deluxe-kind to me and can really throw down on the dance floor.
By 3am the party had dissipated into an iphone poetry reading. The prospect of driving home to share my ice slab with Jessie was unappealing. Instead, Jessie, Angelo and I shared Angelo’s slightly larger futon and a single pillow.
In the morning we got vegan brunch before heading to the beach. Ha ha, just kidding! We went to work!
Benji’s mod party was a great success in measures of outfits, tinfoil, and dance moves.
Bridget and the Worms played their hit record collection and the Sex Headaches did a Kinks set. There was a rocker party next door.
By 4 guests were lying on the floor. Kristen, John, and I dissolved into hysterical laughter about “Our Haunted Fruit Stand” with its ruby-eyed jaw-clacking skull and $100 pear in a glass case.
I named Angel Pie when I was 3 and we have been dear friends ever since. Angel Pie won every battle with a coyote, like the time she stared one down through the glass door, or the time she was in a coyote’s mouth and escaped.
When I was a little kid, whenever we drove someplace, Angel Pie would follow the car down the street and meow for us to come back. Growing up, I worried about Angel Pie and our other beloved cat Hobbs being hit by a car. When I thought in their direction they would come and find me. Angel Pie and I would have sleepovers beneath covers, which she was always fascinated with. Some years ago, when we got a modern couch and there was no arm to sit on, Angel pie leaped and awkwardly sat on Will’s shoulder.
Angel Pie outlived several other friends and last Thanksgiving, in the cadence of a little kid from a 30’s movie I said: “Mama, Angel Pie is immortal right?” She was around 22 when she died.
For the last few days of her life, Angel Pie followed my mom and me around the house, lying down wherever we were. There’s a sublime sort of communication kitties can have with people, Angel Pie had that with us.
I want to plunge so deep
that I see dead friends,
punch a waterfall
through my stomach
“I love you”
with every cell
(Photo by David Louridge)
This emptiness could be peaceful if it wasn’t built from lack.
Depression happens as sudden illness. I am lucky I don’t have it often.
I have kept a consistent diary since I was 16. In the morning sun and my dad’s dining room Hoku showed me a list of events in a day. I liked how boring yet personal it was. I liked the idea of a log. I have kept a diary in list-form ever since. A calming and obsessive habit. The last five to seven years are on Google Drive.
It doesn’t so much matter to keep the journals, though I would have liked to. Reading back on my first logs before our family laptop was stolen, I noticed life changes corresponding to dreams. When I don’t write a journal I feel confused. I feel disorganized in myself.
Months have elapsed without my writing (outside of my job as a writer). In some cases my blog replaces my journal, but I’m still driven to make lists of my personal mundane. I am ready to be boring again.