Monday, August 9, 2010

PD's back tomorrow from the land of Florida. Florida Land, as it is known to some.

That last line was a total lie.

He's been gone since Thursday, which I may have mentioned, which leaves me baby-sitting the Porn Palace, as I have come to call it, and his cats. He has wonderful cats.

It's weird, being in this place by myself. Wandering through the dungeon, sleeping in the bed without his company. Makes me restless. I love downtown and I love this place, but it's empty without him.

I was the same way with GV8, and the apartment he had next to the loft/club. Didn't know what to do with myself there, other than his laundry.

Writing yesterday's blog post was a welcome return to an internal theme, and made me realize that, of everything I write here, my favorite pieces, and the easiest ones, are the ones that reek of melancholic sadness with a hint of detachment.

Apparently, I don't do happy well.

It doesn't move me.

Sadness, loss, it flows.

Last night found me tossing and turning. My body knows PD isn't there and rebels. He tells me I seek him out in my sleep, when he comes to bed, that I curl up on his chest like a cat and he strokes the tattoo that runs down my ribs. When it's hot, I hold his hand.

But I never remember it in the morning.

So I roam around his bed when he's not here, waking up in various positions and geographical locations. The dunes of 300 count sheets. The mountains of over-fluffed pillows. The footboard of Siam.

Probably not that last one.

But it feels like it.

It also sounds like a band name: Footboard of Siam, opening for the Foo Fighters.

I could totally see that.

Spent the weekend busy. Breakfast at a restaurant in Newport Beach with two friends I hadn't seen in awhile, but kept promising to fit them in somewhere. Stopped by my parents', grabbed my birth certificate, then applied for my passport before meeting a friend for sushi. We talked for hours, of his girlfriend, his job, my insecurities, the club scene, learning to dance (I am the go to person for lessons, apparently), relationship drama. Ran by the college bookstore to get my textbooks for the coming semester, starts in two weeks, but they were closed. Hit Nordstrom Rack and stocked up on dark designer jeans and a couple of tops. Spent too much, but finally found a brand that fits my ass-to-lower-back ratio that doesn't scream "hip-hop club attendee: droppin' it like it's hot". Dinner with one of my best friends and his girlfriend, average Thai food. I spent Sunday morning poring over old family records on her father's side of the family, gathering information, addresses, birth, death, and marriage certificates.

Odd how you can sum up so much of someone's life with those three pieces of paper.

1 comment:

  1. Poetry, you eat out a lot!
    Food as the social occasion. I guess you can surmise a lot about someone by their meal habits. You have a very busy social life...I have none and I eat a lot of leftovers and home cooked meals.

    Sigh, the shit I think about.