Lost Weekend
So I spent all day Friday writing. Real responsible of me. About a quarter through this thing, and hoping to be another quarter through by tonight. So far its not going as quickly or smoothly as I would have liked, but any minute now things should pick up. After I'm finished posting of course.
Friday night I had the distinct pleasure of moonlighting (literally, the ice was at midnight) for the Vikings, giving a little D support in what proved to be a bit of a scrappy game. Only the no-nonsense reffing kept things calm, and by the end of the game the jackass who had tried to fight me in the first period managed to apologize. That's great buddy, next time lay off the testosteronies... I think they thought I was a boy or something. Rather than going home when things wrapped up, we retired to a Cowley basement to catch the Canucks game. Alas, NASN had scheduled baseball instead (and I ask you, what kind of person can actually stay awake at 4am to watch baseball?!) so we smoked and popped in the Mighty Ducks. Needless to say, it was a late night, and I dragged my slightly stoned ass home through the quietest streets I had ever seen in this city, birdsong following my footsteps, and fell into bed just past six.
Slept until eleven then decided it wasn't enough, and slept a little more. Which meant there would be no essay work done on Saturday, especially since I had to be out of the house at three or so. Oops.
And off into the sunshine, spring having finally arrived. Even as I write this I wish I was outside, the sun is dappling my keyboard and the papers strewn around me. This restless desire to wander in springtime is mitigated by my knowledge that I have nowhere to wander. This is not home, there is no beach, no forest, no beautiful green neighborhoods, no gentle wind with a hint of the ocean. All winter, Vancouver was a rainy afterthought, but now that the weather here has brightened, I am all too aware of what I'm missing. The pictures on my wall taunt me.
Saturday evening of making single-service friends and wishing for things I didn't have, Saturday night coming out through the rain long enough for us to migrate around the puddles. By the time we'd left the bar, my enthusiasm and verve had slipped, six hours drinking had made me shifty and melancholy, the strangers I knew for moments were strangers again. So I begged off through his kind words and encouragement, thinking how I was a month too late, and berating myself for not acting on things when I'd had the chance. It was his birthday after all. Walked lonesome off of Cornmarket to find G and some solace.
I know she is reading now, and my words are distracted. This post is strangely lengthy as well, I apologize. Regardless, she amped me up with absinthe and held me up as we moved back out into the Night. I have no idea how I found these friends in such a short time here. Forced back, and I don't even recall how it happened, I had ruled him out after too many drinks and miscommunication. Reflecting, I wonder if he had been thinking of it since that night when he walked me home and I had told him off. As DPG would later point out, there's nothing like calling a guy an arrogant cock to make him interested.
Even the next morning, his sober words repeated the same desires, and as he opened the door to lead me down the stairs, his hand stretched backwards, open, palm upwards. Surprised at the gesture, I gave in, and held on so gingerly to something that I hadn't possessed since JJ had left me in Montreal. That smile is still on my lips, that kiss, and even if it ended there, it was worth it. And upon reflection, this is why I keep going back, because it is always worth it.
Friday night I had the distinct pleasure of moonlighting (literally, the ice was at midnight) for the Vikings, giving a little D support in what proved to be a bit of a scrappy game. Only the no-nonsense reffing kept things calm, and by the end of the game the jackass who had tried to fight me in the first period managed to apologize. That's great buddy, next time lay off the testosteronies... I think they thought I was a boy or something. Rather than going home when things wrapped up, we retired to a Cowley basement to catch the Canucks game. Alas, NASN had scheduled baseball instead (and I ask you, what kind of person can actually stay awake at 4am to watch baseball?!) so we smoked and popped in the Mighty Ducks. Needless to say, it was a late night, and I dragged my slightly stoned ass home through the quietest streets I had ever seen in this city, birdsong following my footsteps, and fell into bed just past six.
Slept until eleven then decided it wasn't enough, and slept a little more. Which meant there would be no essay work done on Saturday, especially since I had to be out of the house at three or so. Oops.
And off into the sunshine, spring having finally arrived. Even as I write this I wish I was outside, the sun is dappling my keyboard and the papers strewn around me. This restless desire to wander in springtime is mitigated by my knowledge that I have nowhere to wander. This is not home, there is no beach, no forest, no beautiful green neighborhoods, no gentle wind with a hint of the ocean. All winter, Vancouver was a rainy afterthought, but now that the weather here has brightened, I am all too aware of what I'm missing. The pictures on my wall taunt me.
Saturday evening of making single-service friends and wishing for things I didn't have, Saturday night coming out through the rain long enough for us to migrate around the puddles. By the time we'd left the bar, my enthusiasm and verve had slipped, six hours drinking had made me shifty and melancholy, the strangers I knew for moments were strangers again. So I begged off through his kind words and encouragement, thinking how I was a month too late, and berating myself for not acting on things when I'd had the chance. It was his birthday after all. Walked lonesome off of Cornmarket to find G and some solace.
I know she is reading now, and my words are distracted. This post is strangely lengthy as well, I apologize. Regardless, she amped me up with absinthe and held me up as we moved back out into the Night. I have no idea how I found these friends in such a short time here. Forced back, and I don't even recall how it happened, I had ruled him out after too many drinks and miscommunication. Reflecting, I wonder if he had been thinking of it since that night when he walked me home and I had told him off. As DPG would later point out, there's nothing like calling a guy an arrogant cock to make him interested.
Even the next morning, his sober words repeated the same desires, and as he opened the door to lead me down the stairs, his hand stretched backwards, open, palm upwards. Surprised at the gesture, I gave in, and held on so gingerly to something that I hadn't possessed since JJ had left me in Montreal. That smile is still on my lips, that kiss, and even if it ended there, it was worth it. And upon reflection, this is why I keep going back, because it is always worth it.
posted by Care | 10:07 AM
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