Dear Liza, dear Liza. I was reminded of how wonderful you are yesterday at a talent show when Luke Marvin said your name in conversation. A quick image of you curled up in my childhood blanket in my living room with Moleskines scattered around you, a record on, it was Iron and Wine maybe? Maybe not. It was so nice to visit you in my thoughts in that chaotic environment (there was a contortionist on stage), and there you were smiling broad, relaxed, stunning as always, but especially stunning that night. Hello Liza. I love you too.
Sula's talent show was a smashing success. Lo and I bartended like it was going out of style and I was shaking like a leaf for the first half an hour. I have never done this, I have never done this. I think I said "I am sorry for that head" about a thousand times to Crecom meat heads having a hard time choosing between the Lab Lite, Kokanee and Moosehead (all terrible choices). I had never bartended a single day in my life and half an hour in after a few shots on the sly with Lo in the corner, I was in motion. It felt like a scene out of Coyote Ugly and I was Tyra but was way too busy trying not to mix up the rum and the rye to do a dance for the customers. Insane. I would do it again, and again and again. Slinging beer and mixing drinks for happy people broke my winter blues. Sara A. so encouraged me without necessarily meaning to and our wild conversation mere inches from each other's noses simply buoyed my spirits even more so. Break ups are hard. Break ups in February are harder. Breaking up and being buddies with your ex is the hardest. Girl, you got my goat and I have got your back.
The night was far from over after my booze shift ended at eleven. Sea Bass, Strangler, Hooey, Mitch, Marky and I left the talent show in the ghetto to make it to Alfie, Luke and Keri's birthday at the Grosvener institute. We arrived just as the party was getting wild. Luke and his band "Boats" sang a Page France song and he later came up to me on the stairs where I was perched surveying the room and thanked me for being the only one who sang along. Cool. You are welcome, Page France deserves way more street cred. People were everywhere, there were hundreds of shoes in a mountain at the back entrance to climb over and Rob was DJing and dancing was the only thing you could do to stay upright. People danced from room to room and the house is set up in a circle, so we danced in a circle shoulder to shoulder. If you saw someone across the room that you wanted to say hello to, you had to dance over. That is how full it was. I hadn't been out in weeks it felt, other than my routine weekly visits with weekday people but it was a breath of fresh air to dance in a room with hundreds of people feeling exactly the same way I am. Stagnant.
I danced with a babe graphic designer and we both admitted we had crushes on each other, but he has a lady so I danced away from him feeling disappointed. He didn't have a fish tattooed on his forearm though, so not all was lost. It was just another sign I guess. I lay in my bed this morning, well into the afternoon hours and watched Factory Girl and looked at my cut up hand still stained with blood in the thinnest cracks in my skin and smiled. At least I am not as messy as Edie was. That is not to say that I compare myself to her in anyway (I don't), I just admire her--aside from the sloppy heroine addiction. At one point last night, I was standing in the kitchen with my arm around someone (it was all about arms last night, my arms felt a thousand feet long and I couldn't stop wrapping them around people) I smelled a familiar perfume. Instantly the room was stifling and too hot, too crowded. There was not even enough room to dance away from her, from that smell so I just stood rooted to the ground and when we met eyes and her smell engulfed me, I didn't feel a drop of hate or disgust and it was so relieving. This is proof enough that time heals. Maybe not all, but time heals.
I left eventually, holding my red hand with the other hand and watching life course down my fingers because my blood was thinner than usual. It was a good party even though we were missing some crucial members. You know who you are.
Edie, you wear your heart on your sleeve. I miss you.
Francoise. If I could be like anyone, I would choose her.
Post script, I just came from Kaleb's house and I taught him the phrases raiding the fridge, and the ever so classy I am hung over when he asked me why my face looked funny. I know I looked gross so hearing it from a three year old was no surprise. We fell asleep leaning on each other while watching Franklin and I stopped thinking about my splitting vodka headache and smiled as he whistled softly when he slept.