Before I started floating, I was pretty sure that I never wanted to live with another person again as long as I live - except Velvet, of course, but I've come to see that I kind of like living with a good friend. Buzz Kill and I were good friends for a while, and I liked living with him then. Once Velvet got beyond the lazy-assed, disrespectful High School Senior year, living with him became a pleasure most days. He and Cupcake are still playing house over at Buzz Kill's - and Buzz Kill is still gone all the time doing his own thing. Velvet was supposed to go upstate with that side of his family, but he ditched them. He said he wanted to be with me, but I know that those people are so uptight and judgmental that he's uncomfortable around them. If they were any fun, he'd be up there causing a commotion right now. He'll be here for a while before he goes over to eat another Thanksgiving dinner with Cupcake's family.
Gigi is working for the fitness guru this Thanksgiving. She started babysitting again once she lost her job this summer, and landed a nanny gig for some fitness guru with a shit ton of money. So she's taking care of his kids in the afternoons and writing her thesis in the mornings. It's worked out well for her, especially since one of her best friends needed a roommate about the time Gigi couldn't afford to live by herself anymore. As it happens, she's just a few blocks from my new place, so we can get back to having dinner a couple of times a week once I finally move in. She may even come over to do her laundry.
Unless, of course, she's got a date. Gigi has been very involved in the dating scene ever since she signed up with HowAboutWe.com about six weeks ago. Naturally, she convinced me to try it too. I'm glad I did even if I'm not having nearly as much fun with it as Gigi. Actually, I'm not sure Gigi is having any fun with it either, but I haven't talked to her in a while because she's been so busy.
Here's Velvet and Gigi last Thanksgiving when we were all very thankful for Cafe Luxenbourg
Here's me trying to look sober:
I think we make a lovely little family.
Last Sunday, I went out with a fellow who turned out to be nearly 10 years older than his profile said which is not unusual in the land of computer dating. That he was a crazy Vietnam vet was a little unusual. He clearly had a lot going for him because he was smart and insightful. After he got out of the Air Force, he went to college on the GI Bill and wound up in broadcast news for years and years. He's in the city trying to get work as an actor. I learned all this over coffee because I went out with him without asking any questions. His email approach was fine, and by this time, I'm pretty good at spotting the red flags of asswholery in a dating profile. This fellow wasn't an asshole at all. It looks more like he was so damaged by the Tet Offensive that he was never, ever the same and that over time, the damage grew so complete that it's all you can see anymore.
We were talking in the plaza at Lincoln Center when I was finally able to leave gracefully, He grabbed me by the shoulders in a clear attempt to kiss me as if it was the big moment in his audition for the romantic lead, and I actually turned and ran away. He said, "You're leaving?!" and I said "Yep!" and bolted down some stairs that lead to Juliard.
|The stairs are to the right of the lawn on the roof of this restaurant. The movie theater is underneath the restaurant on West 65th and Juliard is across the street. As it happens, I was only a few blocks from home|
But that's not why I'm fragile. The other morning, I realized that there hasn't been a Menopausal Stoners World Headquarters for 18 months now. All in all, it's been a smooth transition - even though it's taken three times longer than I ever thought it would. It's been smooth because I've had the support of dear friends who have shared their homes while I haven't had one of my own. Floating between homes has been unsettling, for sure, but I've been able to look at myself differently because I haven't been surrounded by my self, if that makes any sense. When you're in your own home, with all your books and treasures and other stuff - you're sort of insulated from your Self by the trappings of your outside life. Without the things that physically or concretely make up your persona, all you can see is the you on the inside.
I suspect I'm fragile because I feel so great about everything in my life that it's alarming. It reminds of me of this little video narrated by Marianne Williamson that Max shared with me a long time ago. Thanksgiving seems like a good day to share it again:
Some people get bent out of shape the minute they hear the word, "god," and given how much shit has been disturbed in the world because of God, it's a reasonable response.. Tripping Jesus, as I've come to know the narrator in A Course in Miracles, says that God is Love, and Love is inside all of us. That's it.
Real Jesus may have said the very same thing, but that message has been lost over the years. Plenty of people think that God is just in your head, and it seems to me that is the best place for God to be. That way, you remember Love. It's easy as pie to forget all about Love if you trap God in Church and the government, giving dominion over the planet to the military, the fossil fuel industry and corporate farmers with GMOs. Not to mention the Walton heirs and Wal-mart, where 6 people have the combined wealth of the lower 40 percent of the country.
It's a drag when the idea of Love gets all fucked up just because a bunch of patriarchal dick wads used God to bully their way to the top of the food chain and generally fuck up the planet. Even though those guys may say God gave them dominion, etc, God had nothing to do with it. Grandpa In the Sky may have had something to do with it - and he's just imaginary. But that doesn't mean Love is imaginary.
With that in mind, I have to get up and face the world this morning.