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I leave for Costa Rica in 4 days. That would be the exciting, exotic place crow asked to take me oh-so-long-ago. And finals are over, they kicked my ass. Our relationship is strong when i'm sane, and pretty strong when i'm stressed, even if i get silly and freaked out about it. I worked my ass off this semester. Sometimes i cooked. We had a Great Ravioli Disaster. A few bloodsugar events. Some miscommunications. True love. I wish i wrote more. I wish i had time to do so. It's nearly impossible. Maybe next year. The busiest girl in the world Poblano Stew thai stir fry After the 72 hour film project-what's that, you ask? Well, the 72 hour film project was a movie made up of independently shot and edited scenes with themes drawn from a hat that were stitched together to make a somewhat coherent film. It was headquartered at our house. Crow and i catered. Dal, rice, frijoles, corn tortillas, salsa from the garden, etc. Really good, simple, fun. Waaay too much work and chaos. No time to unpack. Let's see-i paid crow my 2nd rent check; that means i've been living here for over a month. What a good month. I love it here. There are certainly ups and downs, but the ups are very up and the downs are more like little slopes. I am very happy in this house. That doesn't mean that there isn't a shit-ton of work to do, both personal (unpacking, decorating, getting rid of shit) and as a couple (repainting almost the entire interior of the house). Picking colors together is interesting. Ultimately good and successful (our bedroom is the most incredible purple and it's SO COOL) but a challenge to find the language that we can communicate with. What else? I have been cooking a lot. Here is another list of recipes but no actual recipes. Sorry. You, my one reader in your little room in manhattan, will have to wait until the printed version comes out sometime around xmas, if i'm lucky. And if i have more than one reader...i don't know what i'd do. Probably be very excited. I wish i had more time to write. I know i could make time; you can always make time, but I have so many other things to do. The sprockettes performed 4 shows in 3 weeks. Then we had a kick-ass potluck to celebrate, welcome our two newest members, and figure out what the hell is next. And i'm taking an upper-level spanish class, intro to microeconomics (AAAACCCKK!!!), and a graduate level urban planning course in bicycle and pedestrian issues. AND i got elected/appointed to the Bicycle Advisory committee for Portland. Which is actually a really big deal for lots of reasons, one of which is that out of 67 applicants, 5 were chosen on the first cut and I was one of those. Crow, alas, was not. I pointed out that this was probably because he was an upper-middle class white guy who lived in Southeast portland, just like every other member of the committee. Me, as a young, hispanic, poor girl living in Northeast (the so-called hood in these parts-like where the black people and the brown people live), was a shoo-in. So, recipes: More forthcoming, really really really.
Bulgar and lentil pilaf And finally, crow got up on monday morning and made BAGELS. Honest to god, boiled, brushed with eggwhites, covered in rock salt, sesame seeds, garlic, and poppy seeds, real new york homemade bagels. What a wonderful, wonderful man. How incredibly lucky i am. where do i begin? It's been a time of not cooking much, some tears, some total freak-outs, a lot of work, and an overwhelming sense of relief. Last night i cooked a simple tomato sauce with tomatoes from the garden, eggplant, fennel, capers, lentils, and onions. I got to fulfill my fantasy of just going outside to my garden, at my house, to get fresh oregano, rosemary, sage, and thyme. I layered the sauce in a deep casserole with cooked pennetini and cheese, then baked it for 20 minutes in a 350 oven. I put sprigs of rosemary on top of the final cheese layer. It was amazing. On sunday, 9 people came over with bikes and trailers and helped me move. I will post pictures as soon as i get them. It was incredible. Fun as hell. Of course, the previous week has been hell: packing, hauling shit with the trailer, and not knowing where my socks/pants/raingear/food are. Crow has been incredibly patient with it all, only getting grouchy once in a while. I have been crying a lot, but mostly because of homelessness and stress. It's a big thing to move in. My decisions are no longer just mine. I can't just pack up and move away on a whim. I can't just bring anyone home that i want to fuck. That's ok. I'm more than willing to give up a few single rights in order to wake up next to crow every day, to cook dinner and lunch and breakfast together, to have a life with this incredible man. In fact, i consider it a priveledge. Of course there are plenty of things to work out. Painting, for one. I feel the need to pee on the carpets, as it were, and paint the house. At least the bedroom. It's a horrid color to begin with. Also, this is a house that crow's ex wife picked out, not him. They lived here together and had their life. I have some weirdness about that. Not bad weirdness, but it's still a little weird. So, i want to drastically change this environment. I love the house very much but it could be infinitely cooler. The easiest way to do that is to paint it. Especially our bedroom. But what colour? Really, really really that's hard. We want something warm and bright, but what is that. He is dead set against red and blue, neither of us like yellow, and we have yet to find an orange, green, or purple that works. And that's just the bedroom. There's the hall, the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, and so on. Pronouns are getting easier. His house/my house/our house. Our garden. He says he wants me to think of this home as if my name were on the mortgage too. wow. And finally, the relief. There's no guilt for wanting to spend the night at this house. While there is confusion about where all my shit is (in boxes in the basement, in my office, etc.), at least it's here. And i get to kiss him all the time. I am certainly the luckiest girl in the world. Plum Salsa, Sprockettes pot-luck and mission statement making, and Big Life Decisions Big Life Decisions- moving in with crow for sure. Started packing. Figuring out all important questions like where the spice rack will go, and where to put the cook books. Discussions about our house-how it's ours-our room, our bathroom, our kitchen. How i get to transform it into a useable, beautiful space. Surely in this house i will have my big sink fountain in the living room. And houseplants. And love. So very much love. If this is disjointed it's because crow and squish are working on squish's talent show project and they are loud in my ear next to me. Hard to focus but i want to write. Every day crow tells me how excited he is that i'm moving in. And the logistics problems it will solve-whooee! As my friend harriet put it: "When the soy milk is at one house and the granola is at the other, it's time." Truly, i spend way too much of my brain power figuring out what i need at which house. And it sucks. And it causes me stress. And it causes crow stress. In fact, the only communication issues we've really had have to do with house/bike/food logistics. So, i started working at the bike shop. Dream job, right? Yeah, mostly. Except for the managers. The people rock, the work doesn't suck, i get to work with my two favorite things: bikes and kids. And i'm getting paid. AND i get to co-lead women's volunteer night sans supervision. That rocks. The other program leader rocks too. Finally, the sprockettes had a very important meeting/ potluck wherein we discussed our growth, our desire to be more than just the drunk crew, what kind of power we have, and how far we can go. Words like professionalism came up a lot and i didn't even mention it! I feel very good and excited. So, this is what i brought to the pot luck. The plums, onions, and jalapenos were all from my garden. PLUM SALSA
8 plums, pitted and diced Mix well. Taste. Adjust seasonings if necessary. magic - living on a tug boat for 2 nights- boats phosphorescence kayaking blue herons sun set over the west sun rise over mt hood mt hood behind me huge and so close kisses honey wake up and look at the stars backpack chafing at my shoulders damn hiking boots don't fit talk about our future i want this yes we want this. cry all morning as i hike out of the mountain by myself. it's all just too beautiful. i am too happy. HA! get back into town. still in mountainhead space. still seeing crow's eyes lit by the rising sun, halo of mist around the summit. robert-roommate walks in and says he's giving notice; i can stay and owe him 500.00 or leave. what the fuck. what the fuck. crow and i spent much of this weekend talking about living together-sometime in the fall. or winter. now i have 30 days to figure out wht the fuck i am going to do. i realized after crying for about 24 hours off and on, maybe more, that i have to decide whether it's better to live in a house that i can't stand with an unknown roommate, or live in a house that i love with my lover and his roommate who i don't really want to live with. a or b. my house or his. of course, he's not here so i can't ask. he's still on the mountain. i know i am ready to live with him. is he? he says he's never going to go away. that i am the person he wants to be with. that he will do anything. i feel the same. i want to grow old and sleek with him. i want to make art and learn to sail-with him. i want to travel and cook and bike and write and fuck and love - with him. but this is a hella big step. so i figure out that maybe i can make it work. we talked about a lot of the practical things of me living with him-where the spice rack goes, etc. so maybe it'll be ok if he's into it. then i realise that if i don't have a job, and his roommate doesn't have a job, and he works from home-the house will be a disaster. so i interviewed for a job at a bike shop yesterday, and i got it. is the universe telling me to go? i start work tonight as the women's volunteer night coordinator/retail staff person and then pick crow up late at night at the mountain. and then i throw this whole living together thing-this whole "i've been crying and freaking out so much i've given myself a fever blister so i can't even kiss you" thing at him and because of robert being a prick, crow has about 12 hours to decide if it's ok for me to move in there or not. if not, i have plenty of back-ups. i can owe the 500.00. i can couch crash with many of my friends. i can make it work. i will make it work. my relationship with crow is the most important thing in my life and i will do anything to make sure we survive. holy shit. Possibly the world's sexiest summer meal at least the sex afterwards... This recipe has a couple of special needs-mostly in the serving ware. You need lots of little japanese plates and bowls, as well as chopsticks. This is a community dish so everyone dips into each condiment as they wish. Japanese Summer Tofu
1/2 lb fresh-as-possible tofu, cubed Make little (tiny) plates of grated ginger, daikon, beet, and scallions. Chop the tofu into 1/2 inch cubes. Put ice in a bowl and put tofu on top. Now, put each liquid into it's own little cup (finally a use for those sake cups, right?), and the parsely into it's own bowl. Toast the nori, then finely shred or crumble it. Put it in it's own little bowl. Toast the sesame seeds, then put them in a nice little bowl. Serve, giving each guest their own little dish of ginger/daikon/beet, and setting out the vinegar, sesame oil, shoyu, parsely, sesame seeds, nori, and tofu. Eat by dipping deliciously. Make your own combo. Have brown rice on the side. The Domestication of Chiligirl I know-it's weird to think of me, the girl who loves nothing more than to spend time in the kitchen, being EVEN MORE domesticated, but i think it is happening. And it all starts with a vase. It's not just any vase. It's a chinese wine urn that's about 90 years old. It has a pinch pattern on it. It's about 3 1/2 feet tall and about 3 feet wide, with a little tiny opening. Crow bought it on Saturday. For us. Really, for me to make a fountain in his garden, for us. HOLY SHIT!!! I begin to fulfill my fantasies of becoming garden designer, using lots of quaint water features. All those months of reading gardening journals and "how to create a fountain" books are finally going to pay off. And it's for our garden. You know-ours. Can i just say that crow fulfills all my fantasies? Wow. It's been over 100 degrees this weekend. That's been rough. The only bike i have running right now (due to a persistent problem with flats-4 flats in less than 3 days) is my gigantic cruiser. I am so damn proud of my cruiser. She was sitting in my back yard for who knows how many years. Rusted, but with an inner genius shining through. A huge gold beach bike, meant to be ridden by pretty girls wearing bikinis. I spent 2 days scrubbing, rubbing, sanding, and otherwise trying to get her back in useable condition. I spent a whopping five dollars to do so. Then i rode the hell out of her. Downtown and back, across town many times, and generally all over. Wow. The only trouble is that i've been wearing my bikini or something similar for 3 days, and i have a bit of a rash from banana seat chafing. Ouch. So, the heat makes everything crazy. Friday consisted of sweating whilst sitting in the neighbor's back yard, feet in kiddie pool, glass of water with slices of cucumber and lime at my side, reading Bon Appetit. For dinner, Crow came over with a fantastic bean salad with mint and basil and parsely, olives and white beans and celery and garlic. In addition, we had figs, chevre in olive oil with spices, rye crackers, and cherries. Friday night ended with a naked bike ride after a drunken poetry slam, a minor run-in with the police, and a naked party in my back yard. With candles and more poetry and the aforementioned kiddie pool. Wow. Saturday, Crow bought the vase, we talked about our garden (our? holy shit!), we almost got heat stroke, and we swam in the Washougal river. It was heavenly. Cool and clear and deep. We got out there in a van fueled by vegetable oil. Then one of the guys that was swimming with us took us out for sushi. This life is good. Yesterday, we slept in even though there was so much to do. I made a breakfast of fried red potatoes, toast, and a scramble of shallots, chard, zuchinni, and a purple pepper from the garden. Like i said-there was a lot to do. We had to go get the trailer from Nisey (who's moving this weekend), go to the climbing store so crow could try on hiking boots, and pick up the vase from the pearl district. Then we raced (ha-him with a 50 lb vase in a trailer and me on the beach cruiser with one gear) up the hill to his house, then to a garden party/informational session with the preferred mayoral candidate. This weird guy that crow knows set up an event with tom potter, the liberal left-leaning wanna-be mayor. It was a strange event in that we sat in plastic chairs in a circle, in the host's back yard, and asked the candidate questions. He also asked us questions, about who we were and why we came to portland. He was really honest, especially for a politician. I weas very impressed with his ideas, and it was really cool to finally meet someone who's political views will potentially affect the world i live in. There were lots of transportation geeks at this event, so there was some good discussion about that. Tom Potter's commitment to community seems deeply held and heartfelt. That's really cool for a politician. After our political time with mr. potter, we returned home, crow to work in the garden and me to cook dinner for 5. Which finally brings me to the cooking part. If you bothered to read this far, there is an incredibly easy great summer recipe here. Pecel (supposedly it's indonesian)
potatoes Make a cool bath for everything. This is kind of a pain in the ass, but important. Fill a large vessel about 2/3ds of the way with really cold water and some ice cubes. But save some ice cubes for later. Dice the potatoes. Boil the potatoes. Keep the water boiling. Start the eggs. Using a seive, drop the spinach or greens into the water. After 2 minutes, remove the spinach and put it in the cool bath. Chill, then sqeeze out the water and set aside. Do the same with the quartered green beans. Cook the potatoes until done, then chill them. Same with the eggs. (Hardboiled eggs usually take about 13 minutes for a firm yolk.) Peel the eggs and set aside. Meanwhile, make the tempeh. See below for recipe. Now set up your steamer. Cut the carrots and zuchinni to matchsticks. Make small florets of broccoli. Put them all in the steamer. Steam for about 4 minutes. Chill in ice bath and set aside. You may want to add more ice to the water at this point. Shred the cabbage, quarter the onions, and begin to assemble the salad. It's a composed salad, so make layers and sections of things. Potatoes and carrots on the bottom, then a layer of spinach in the center, then cukes on the outside, cabbage quarters on the edges, slices of hard boiled egg on top. However it seems to fit. After adding all the parts of the salad, top it off with the tempeh. Serve with spicy peanut sambal on the side. FPT tempeh
8 oz tempeh Cut tempeh into matchsticks. Make a quick marinade out of the garlic, salt, coriander, and water. Put the tempeh in the marinade. Heat the oil. When hot but not smoking, fry the tempeh until reddish-brown. This may be easier in batches. Drain with a slotted spoon or on brown paper bags. Peanut Sambal
3-4 fresh hot green chilis (seeded if you don't want it too hot), sliced into fine rings. If you have time and a mortar, pound the chilis and garlic. When they are well mashed, add the peanuts. Then add everything else. If you are like me, just put everything in the blender or food processor, add 2 TBS plus 2 tsp water and blend the shit out of it. I like it a little bit chunky. Serve along side the salad. One more thing: It is so cool to be in love with somone who has his own grinder for coriander as well as tamarind in the fridge. Zoobomb on Tour - Seattle / Vashon Island Day 1 Chehalis, WA Still in the parking lot No part City park just down the street with a freshly cleared area for STP (Seattle to Portland bike race) campers Camping in the park fall asleep under the halogen lights of the prison-like structure next door Breakfast Find the Ferry Party starts Sprockettes chanting on an abandoned car a bunch of fuckers in the parking lot doing donuts in their CARS a hunk of lamb and salmon Some bands played Then i passed out in the neighboring cemetary In the morning we cooked breakfast giant starfish let's go home Garden 100% real this time What grows in the garden right now: Wow. I love going outside to get dinner. Camping We ate very well while camping. Crow is a genius. And we were car camping so we brought a lot of crap. Here were some menus: And so last night i was feeling feisty and wanted to make crow something yummy for dinner. Did i mention that i'm madly in love with that man? Green Tomato Pakoras (tamatar pakora)
4 medium green tomatoes Slice the unpeeled tomatoes into 1/2 inch slices. Pat the slices dry. Combine all the dry ingredients and mix well. Put into a pie dish or deep plate. Dredge the tomatoes in the mixture, pressing down on each side. Set the slices aside for 5-10 minutes to dry. Heat 2 TBS of oil/butter in a heavy skillet to hot but not smoking. Add half the tomatoes. Fry until the bottoms are browned, then turn over and fry the other side. Repeat, adding more fat and the rest of the slices. Serve hot. Sambal Goreng Tempeh Kering 1/2 cup coarsely chopped shallots Put the shallots, garlic, chilis, and ginger in the bowl of a food processor or blender and add 3 TBS of water. Blend until it's very smooth. Heat the oil in a medium skillet. When hot, add half the tempeh and fry until the matchsticks are reddish and crisp. Repeat with the other half of the tempeh. Drain on paper towels or bags. Remove all but 1/4 cup oil from the skillet. Add the paste from the food processor and the tamarind. Be careful-the paste is very potent and can sting. Stir and fry over medium heat for about 7 minutes, until the paste has a dryish look. Add the salt and sugar. Stir to mix. Add the tempeh and stir gently to mix. Serve immediately. Basmati Rice 1 cup rice Add rice and water in solid small-ish pot. Heat to boiling, then turn down heat and cook, covered, for about 20 minutes. Steamed Broccoli Do i really need to include a recipe for this? Nope, i didn't think so. The Multnohmah County Bike Fair is over. The premier performance of the Sprockettes was an astounding success. I was the queen of volunteers, the darling (one of 9) in pink and black, exhausted, drunk, and devastatingly happy. I've gotten over any silly apprehension i may have about being in love with crow. He's everything that i've been waiting for, everything that i've been practicing for, and everything that i want. And so very much more. I know exactly what i am doing this time. So, with the bike fair being over, i have had a little time. All i wanted to do on sunday after the fair was breakfast and sex. And dinner. I wanted to make a nice healthy dinner for the two of us, so this was the menu: Lentils and Spinach 2 TBS olive oil Heat the oil over medium heat in a medium saucepan. When it is hot but long before smoking, add the onions. Saute until transluscent. Add the lentils, cumin, and salt. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and cook for 15 minutes at a nice simmer. Add the spinach and tomatoes, and cook for another 10 minutes. Taste for seasonings. If you wish, squeeze fresh lemon or lime juice into the beans. Serve with wedges of lemon or lime on the side. Greek Salad Spinach Start by tearing the spinach and lettuce into bite sized pieces. Then start making layers-this is sort of a composed salad. Drizzle olive oil and squirt lemon juice between every layer. Put down all the onions, then tomatoes, then cucumbers, then feta and olives. Add massive amounts of freshly ground pepper, drizzle more olive oil, and squeeze the hell out of the lemon. This salad is very lightly dressed. Some people prefer a more substantial dressing, so i also serve balsamic vinegar and olive oil on the side. bread with rosemary oil dippy goodness 1 french loaf of crusty bread Combine the oil, rosemary, and garlic in a small, dippy bowl. Pour just enough vinegar in so it covers about a quarter of the bowl's surface. Add salt and pepper to taste. Dip. Monday On Monday at the store, crow got inspired to make pizza: red onion, garlic, hazelnuts, canned sauce, fresh oregano, mozzerella, asiago, kalamatas, garden spinach, chili pepper flakes Did i mention that i love this man? Wednesday Then comes the wednesday farmer's market and i'm dreaming of a way to say i love you and all i want to do is spend the day in the kitchen making something for my beloved. God i love unemployment. This is the result: Basmati rice pilaf with vegetables This is fairly time consuming. 1 cup basmati rice Cook tomatoes, ginger, and peppercorns in water. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer brightly for 12 minutes. Remove from heat and strain for seeds and skins. Add enough water to this stock to make 1 3/4 cups of liquid. Heat oil to hot but not smoking. Fry the cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, and bay leaf for a couple of minutes, then add the rice. Stir fry the mixture for 2 more minutes. Add the tomato stock, turmeric, and salt. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and cook for 25 minutes. Add the vegetables when rice is cooked. Garnish with lemon wedges. Masoor Dal (egyptian or red lentils) 1 cup red lentils Rinse lentils. Put lentils and water in pot. Bring to a boil. Skim off any scum that arises. Add turmeric, salt, and ginger. Reduce heat to slow simmer. Cook until they are mushy, about 20 minutes or less. When the beans are soft, heat the olive oil to very hot. Add the asafoetida, then seconds later, add the cumin, mustard seeds, and chilies. Fry for about 15 seconds, or until the mustard seeds start to turn gray and pop all over the place. It's a good idea to have a lid or spatter screen ready. Add the oil to the beans, mix well, and serve. blueberry chutney this was a farmer's market inspiration 1/2 cup blueberries Heat 2 TBS of oil in a small saucepot. Add the garlic, chili and ginger and fry for 2 minutes. Add the blueberries and orange juice. Simmer. Add the garam masala. Simmer for about 10 minutes. Heat the remaining oil in a small fry pan. Add the cumin, coriander, mustard, and poppy seeds. Be careful-they will probably spatter. When the mustard is gray and the cumin turns a shade darker, add the whole lot to the blueberries, and continue cooking until it has acheived a jam-like consistency. Wow. What a week. World naked bike ride front page of the living section of the oregonianv riding to the gorge slater showing up for my birthday (what a surprise!) dinner at mayhur palace keys to crow's house quote from magnetic fields; why would i stop loving you a hundred years from now? Yeah, so i've been busy. I'm the volunteer coordinator for the multnohmah county bike fair. I'm performing with the Sprockettes, a syncronized mini-bike dance team. I've spent ages sitting in front of my sewing machine, making my blinging costumes and generally getting my head straight. I've been riding little and big bikes constantly. Partying constantly. I rode 56 miles, half a century, on glamour girl for the zoobomb century race. Next year i'll finish. i quit smoking. and now i'm having lots and lots of Sex in unique places. And i've given in completely, totally, wholly to being with crow. I feel like i've spent my whole adult life practicing to be in this relationship with him. I remember being this sure about tim. No, this time i am much more sure. Isn't that crazy? It is and it isn't. It's totally correct. How it is supposed to be. Picking dinner from the garden, making love under the stars, kissing him awake. My friends are very happy for me; they can see me glow. But they are afraid of me getting my heart trampled again. Yes. Valid fear. I was very afraid of that too. It's not something i can explain. I just know. Crow has been persisitent. Telling me that he'll wait. That i'm an investment in our future together. I was saying things like "bikes not boys" and i don't want to be serious, but i realised rather quickly that i would be an ass to let my true love slip by. prettyboy seems like a dream. i didn't realise how frustrated he made me, how frustrated all my ex boyfriends made me with their flakiness and inability to keep it together. With their inability to say i love you unless they were drunk or high. with their heads up their asses. I am so sick of the not-quite-30 dating pattern: either you say "i'm not looking for anything serious" immediately and often remind the other person of that-you wouldn't want them to become attached, after all, or it's women out to get married and knocked up. I want neither of those. I want my lover, my partner, my best friend. i want to hear him tell me how much he likes me-no-loves me, every day. many times. and i want to tell him twice as often. I want to be unafraid to bring up fear and insecurity. i want to fart in bed. And you know, i found that. He pointed out the other day that we are still in our infancy. i hope we grow old and sleek together. he is the most radical person i've ever been with. i am so happy. and he keeps intimating that he wants to go someplace fabulous with me. when i mentioned the coast, he said that's a nice place but not fabulous. what can he mean?? One of my kids was killed. From an email from the program leader: Fernando Martinez was a special 11-year old with a positive attitude, a willingness to help other kids, and a love for riding bikes. He was a 5th grader at the King School, just 2 blocks from his house. At 3:45pm Monday, May 17, Fernando was killed by an SUV on his bicycle, in front of his house. His family and friends, his older brother Cesar, and myself, are devastated. This is what i've been doing this week. Totally freaking out. How can i teach bike safety to kids when they see their friend killed? On the other hand, i ran into some of the kids while on my way to my girlfriend's house that day and we talked a little bit about it. When i asked how they felt, they said scared. When i asked if it would keep them from riding, they said no. Make them ride more safely, certainly. Fernando graduated from the bike club just 2 weeks ago. And on still the other hand, i've been in a delirium of sex and food and the intoxication of another person's skin. Hot shit This was over xmas. I just got a nice email from sam. I am falling for someone extraordinary. He is so much more than i ever thought that i could expect. Kind, brilliant, funny, fucking gorgeous, and everytime he touches me i tingle. And he listens. And he shows up on time. At the right place. And he gives amazing non-sexual back rubs. And he cooks. And i can be myself. Ok, so he is 10 years older than i am. But whatever. He made me scones last week! SCONES, i say, with wheat that he ground himself. And brought me strawberries from his garden. I swoon. He so much has his shit together. It makes me feel a little weird. Especially the part about just being fired. He's a radical. He is a curveball in my life and doesn't mind that i want to make this relationship move forward at a glacial pace. What's one of the hottest advantages to being a zoobomber? Getting listed into the MURS show at berbati's. What's even hotter than getting listed into the MURS show? Getting a shout out during the show, and on the album. What's even hotter than all that? Bombing with MURS and Scarab on a sunny thursday, and having MURS buy us a pizza afterwards. Holy shit i feel like such a star fucker. ESPECIALLY after hanging out with them and them being such gentlemen. Talking to me and not staring at my tits, having a conversation. So nice. Anyway, how fucking hot!!! Oh yeah, and i got fired today. Officially, i'm going to get fired on Monday, but really i got fired today. Divorce politics. Bullshit. Shit. What a night. What a day. What a party. It's late and i'm feeling pretty thrashed from the party last night. I got home about 5:30. In the morning, Had awesome breakfast with Nisey and went home to crawl back into bed and lick my wounds. Checked my email. There was a message from a boy that i hung out with the previous evening. I called him and asked him to go for a bike ride. We rode. Far. Good. Lovely. He brought tofu pate and rye bread. I brought luna bars. We went far north, to some nature preserves. It was awesome. We didn't stop talking. Or riding. We saw a heron, and swallows, and damselflies, and turtles. Then he came to zoobomb and we made out. And it was awesome. Lovely. He told me he has had a crush on me for ages; i replied that i've been crushing on him since i first met him a couple of months ago. But i was intimidated. He told me i am beautiful. He is lovely to kiss. This makes me happy. Nervous, but happy. The last thing i need right now is to fall for someone. But to hang out with someone who makes me happy...how good is that? Oh yeah, he's ten years older than me and somewhat recently divorced. That's ok. Celebrity, Bravery, and a Unicorn Costume The last couple of days have been about people recognizing me and saying "Hey, weren't you on television?" I guess this is my 15 minutes of fame. The footage was of the presentation to the Neighborhood association the night that sam broke up with me. Funny that. Bravery? Well, i'm going to sam (and mikey and lauren and mandy)'s housewarming party with ALL my friends, even Nisey. And i'm going as a unicorn, complete with goofy hat, and tutu and tail. And corset. And boobs, And i smell good and look better. So HA! And i'm so incredibly tense and nervous i can't sit still or think clearly. Robert has been practicing guitar for at least 5 hours...too much. Too much for me but i don't feel like leaving the house until it's time to Go To The Party. Cooking? Oh yeah. I have been cooking. Pasta with red seafood sauce, pizza, lots of sandwiches. Nothing inspired though. No inspiration, know what i mean? Wait-when i came back from LA i made an amazing tomato relish thing to go over charred grilled yellowtail tuna steak. Let's see if i remember what i put in it, coz it was delicious. 1/4 tsp lemon zest Hunk of sushi-grade tuna Mix. Let it sit for about 1/2 hour. Meanwhile, heat a grill and when the coals are ready, throw a big hunk of tuna on the grill. When it is cooked as much as you like, drown it with relish. The wedding Weird. crazy. Fun. at times. Never was i plunged into deep misery. It was really beautiful to see all of anna's family, and all of danielle's family being so incredibly supportive of this marriage. And i finally got to meet and hang out with a couple of mythological characters from my life with anna-spizz, kim, cousin paul, and especially Bart. Seeing anna's family was a treat, and hanging out with other simon's rockers was great, even if they were all somewhat to a lot younger than me. I'd forgotten that i would be one of the handful of straight people there. I'd also forgotten that lesbians take themselves WAY too seriously. I nearly made several gaffes of the un-PC nature. Oops. I lucked out when i flew into LA and sat next to the Friendliest Guy Ever. We got to talking and he ended up offering me a ride to the Getty Center with his wife and kid. So kind. The idea that a complete stranger would give me a ride, anywhere, just lifted my heart and i soared. The getty center was beautiful and there was this really cool little tram that took me to the top. I was supposed to meet alex and johanna there. Well, as soon as i got there i tried calling (for the 2nd time) and of course i got in trouble. They were just leaving. My heart sank as i got back on the tram (no getty center for me, dammit) and rode down. One panicked call to portland later, i met up with them. Jo had a cigarette and though they were both stressed they were cordial. That proved to be the tone of the weekend, more or less. I mean, they were perfectly nice except for the general bossiness of alex (more on that) and the fact that jo wouldn't let me camp with her. I almost lost it when she offered her camp space to josh and sadie, and again when her and alex had this discussion about how great it was to have options about where to sleep and people to crash with, but i was on Best Behavior. We went out for sushi and met up with Josh and Sadie in LA. Josh and alex and i went to school together at SFA, and jo dated josh's best friend/roommate. Well, it's way more complicated than that but that's a good outline. I hadn't seen josh since 1997 when i met sadie for one short breakfast. I hadn't seen jo or alex since 2000 when i was working on that horrid show in chicago and decided i never wanted to be in the same city as alex again. But we drank, and reminiced, and ate sushi. And it was awesome. Josh and sadie convinced us not to go to Orange cty that night but instead to get a bottle of something vicious and get shitty at their house. Which we did. And it was fantastic. Lots of "do you remember" and "oh no i forgot i did that!" After a LA diner breakfast complete with cockroach, we drove down to Dana Pt., in orange county. On the way we missed an exit and encountered HELL in the form of freeways and shopping malls. Once we got there, i was jangled from the car and heat and mild hangover, so after introducing myself to a couple of people i was supposed to know in the lobby i went for a walk. I ended up on the beach with a friend of anna's and it was lovely. I got to read and sew and meditate. Anyway, the rest of the weekend was many things. The ceremony made me cry so many times. I forgot to put sunscreen on my back during the ceremony and got fried, even though as soon as i remembered i put some on and continued laying out. The beach sucked because it was so rocky, but being in the water was heaven. Cold, but heaven. And meeting this girl Kim was amazing. The gleam in her eyes when she talked about skateboarding was identical to the one in mine when i talk about biking. We hit it off immediately, having heard about eachother for years. Eventually, we decided to go have a smoke and a beer, but since it was orange fucking county, we had to go sit in the car to drink and smoke a sweet one. But that was ok. We talked about boys and life and love and biking and skating and not working and community and life and anna and it was great. That's all. I got really tired of alex bossing me around. I think that i couldn't be her friend if we lived in the same city. That makes me sad because i love her. But my own mother doesn't talk to or treat me as disrespectfully as she does. And it isn't me; she treats everyone like that. So, love from afar. And Jo has had a rough year, but she was still shitty to me. Sometimes people are shitty. That's ok. Anna and dani are married. I have nothing but happiness and love for them both, even if i wonder how anna's changed/changing to be what dani can live with. No, it's not that. It's more that dani has no edge to her. Anna has always had a "what the fuck, let's do it and have a hell of a good time" air. Dani does not seem to but then again, i really don't know her at all. I wish them the best, and as i said as part of the ceremony (everyone there took a vow as well), i will support their love and send them back to eachother when things are rough. I'm hella glad to be home. A perfect party Required elements: the organic beer guy-this guy makes his own high-octane beer, using only organic ingredients and hops from people's yards, and brings small kegs to parties. He then sells this amazing, unbelievably good beer to partygoers in mason jars for one or two dollars, depending on the size. And he does it all by bike. house within 4 blocks of my own-this particular party was at Nisey's, which is practically an extention of my own home. a piņata-but it has to be shaped like a television, and filled with candy, condoms, and random crap inside. marvelous dog-shock, the coolest boston terrier in the universe. old friends and new-nisey, ryan, mandy, lauren, lots of others, and finally i got to hang out with mikey, sam's roommate. I've missed him so much. I'd forgotten how much i love him. gift exchange-everyone brought a gift, you drew someone's name, and then you had to go meet the person whose name you had drawn and get their gift. bonfire-well, duh and most wonderfully, a boy that i've made out with once and really wanted to make out with again, lots and lots, to make out with in front of the bonfire, to take home and kiss and wake up all snuggly and not feeling weird about it at all. He's smart and cute and funny and a hell of a kisser and while it was just a thing, and may happen again or may not, it was wonderful. No bad aftertaste at all. And we did decide to go on a date sometime. I like that. I felt good. Respected. Like i had respected myself too. So today i woke up with Japan in my bed, happy. He left, i ate and wrote a paper in spanish, got the delayed reaction hangover, went back to bed, and then went to the Chunk 666 (local chopper bike gang) tall bike jousting event. The deadbuny crew brought the bbq, rev. phil gave me some painkillers (oh i love pills), and all was well. Lots and lots of people showed up (but all the zoobombers agreed that we had more for minibikewinter) and it was a gorgeous sunny day. I rode a couple of good bikes, hung out with some good friends, and sat in the sun looking at all the beautiful boys and girls and all the beautiful bikes. Dinner was at ole ole with some shifters, including the married couple who just had the baby. They dress in matching outfits and ride a tandem. She gave birth 6 weeks ago. They had the baby on the bike! So sweet. After dinner, we got some beer and went and hung out in the park some more. Mandy and i decided that we really just needed to go home and be responsible, so it's now 11pm and i'm in my jammies on a saturday night. I took the rest of the rev. phil pill and am looking forward to watching the fellowship of the ring until i fall asleep. Thoughts percolating- community. What a huge word. The most important word in my vocabulary right now. What is community? Here are some ideas: being unafraid to ask for help from your peeps, and knowing you'll get it. Offering help. Going to protests. Volunteering. Knowing my neighbors. Riding my bike. Hanging out at a strip club with a 59 year old guy, a fellow cyclist, along for the pub crawl, talking about how cool it is that we can be friends because we care about the same things. Later, crashing a kid punk party with the same guy, and a bunch of twentysomethings. How cool! BBQs in the park. Giving our cans to the homeless collectors. Cleaning up our trash. Being involved. Making t-shirts. Stencils. Smiling at strangers. Sharing bikes. Sharing beer. Sharing. "Hey, do you need that? Do you need help? I'm elicia, what's your name? " Dat giving the bike dance gang $ to help us along, because. Sitting in a circle in the park, talking about marriage, commitment, being car-free. Laughing at what fun we have. Talking with my friend the candidate for city council. Girl talk over beer and gardenburgers. Sure i'll carry that. Anybody need anything? Want a beer? Helping out a homeless kid when he needs it and i can. Neighborhood association meetings. Community street sweeps. Most everyone i can see has a bike. And everyone has a patch, a t-shirt, a button that says: car free, fuck oil, bikes have full use of lane, zoobomb, velolove, axles of evil, chunk666, ride a bike, have more fun, put the fun between your legs, this bike is a pipe bomb, cars-r-coffins. This is my life. I ride a bike. All my friends ride bikes. When the oil revolution comes, we will survive. We joke about it sometimes. But i think there is some truth in it. All these thoughts about community are thrown into sharp relief by the situation with the people that i thought were my friends from way back when. My heart broke when anna said "i just want it to be perfect. Whatever you have to do." when referring to her wedding and whether it would be better for me to not attend due to everyone else being really fucked up in the head. What is it about weddings that make people completely FUCKED UP? What is it about age, and marriage, and cars, and stuff that changes perfectly nice people into not nice people? Knowing that these people don't give a rat's ass about their community. Knowing that they drive. I don't mean to generalize so much about drivers, but...they don't ride bikes. They won't let their best friend from college share a camping space with them. They didn't welcome me into going to art galleries with them. They made me kiss royal ass just to be in good graces to get a ride. They made me feel horrible about myself. They frowned upon me not getting new dress (the invitation says hawaiian shirts-how am i supposed to know that means i should buy a new dress? And how dare they make me feel guilty about it?). What it comes down to is this: I have made some very specific choices about the lifestyle i want. It is different, even opposite of theirs. I don't see any reason to judge their life as long as they don't judge mine. As long as they give me the respect that they once showed me. And i will gladly give that respect, even if secretly we all think the other is completely off the deep end. But that isn't how it has worked. And that, sadly, is that. This is some vitriol. I'm very angry and sad. I'm sad that i feel like i can't be friends anymore with people that i once thought i couldn't live without. Perhaps my anger will pass and i'll think i was just overreacting and being silly. But perhaps not. You know, sad and angry are good words, but really i'm deeply, horribly hurt. I'm hurt that i'm not welcome. I'm hurt that they think i'm irresponsible. I'm hurt that they think i expect someone else to take care of me. I'm hurt. I am hurt. It's true that i've pretty much chosen to surround myself exclusively with like-minded people. Cyclists, activists. People who care and aren't afraid to do something, anything, to change and make the world better. People who ride bikes not because it's exercise and they have to be a perfect size 6, but because they don't want to contribute to the global oil economy, because they want to be connected with other people and not sealed off in a box. It is also true that i don't really have time to spend on people who don't care about their communities. I don't really care for people who work all the time so they can pay for all their stuff. How much stuff does anyone need, anyway? I have WAY too much of it myself. I don't really need friends who think driving is OK, and i won't be friends with people who drive after drinking. Period. If people can't see how much damage they are doing because they can't live without their luxuries, fuck em. That doesn't mean i'm going to be rude, dismissive, or disrespectful. It just means that my priorities are elsewhere. Who knew i'd turn into this kind of radical? Tonight i have so much to say but i don't feel like any of this rant is coherent. Let me try and sum up: I love my life and my community and i wish everyone would live like we do, but since they don't that's ok as long as they are respectful of me personally and my community. I am pissed off and incredibly disappointed in and insanely hurt by my old friends for changing into people that i don't think i would want to be friends with now, and for treating me so disrespectfully. As Nisey said, "not every place is like Portland." This is my situation right now: So, anna is getting married, right? In southern california on the beach in 2 weeks. I have been SO excited. Beach wedding, old friends, good times. Her and Dani made some reservations for campsites and hotels. I saved up and saved up and bought a plane ticket. I'm going to go, dammit, but the only way i can go is if i camp as i'm very poor and i can't afford a hotel or resturants. I figure my friends, my old community, will give me support and let me camp in one of the camp sites. Wrong. For whatever reason, i am not welcome to share a camp site with johanna and eileen. I don't even have a tent! I won't even be taking up space! And with that denial, no one else is offering any help, support, or even suggestions. Now, i have a plane ticket that i can't afford to change, to a very wealthy area that i can't even squat in. And i'm pretty upset. Perhaps this is coming amidst the realization that i have an amazingly strong, supportive community here in portland, where there is no question that if i need any kind of help or support someone will offer. I am very lucky. Am i silly for assuming that same kind of community support will come from my old friends? Has everyone else grown and changed in such a way that they don't realise that i'm asking for help and really need it? It's not that i'm asking to borrow money or anything, really. I feel like i'm being treated poorly because my choices in life (having fun, not worrying about my financial future to terribly much, doing what i want to) are different and somehow less ok. I feel like everyone is telling me to grow up, get my shit together, etc. And that sucks to be getting this message from my friends. I fucked up. wow did i fuck up. Man oh man did i do a good job at fucking up. That too should be put on my emotional resume, along with "Skills include break ups on a grand scale, sobbing at inopportune moments, and emotional long-distance phone calls." In short, i was a total asshole to sam when i didn't need to be, and continued to exacerbate the situation, and now i feel really horrible and i STILL don't have my stuff back and it's becoming idiotic and it seems to be all my fault. I think i want him to acknowledge that this hurts me, and maybe just maybe, that he misses me too. I can't stand to see him so blase about this. Then again, my behaviour was pretty childish and retarded. Oh well. I have apologised thrice now. Isn't that some sort of charm for making it go away? I wish none of this had ever happened. Shit. HEDWIG and the ANGRY INCH So, i attended a sing-along showing of Hedwig at the Kennedy School this evening. And i dressed up as we were encouraged to do. Really, all i did was put on some leg warmers, a tiny skirt, blue eyeshadow, and red lipstick. Almost like not really dressing up at all. But i won 4th place for dressing up, and the COOLEST PRIZE EVER: a 2 foot long piece of the movie film that had broken on the previous showing. It's so cool! Other than that, well, i went on a kick ass midnight mystery ride last night, drank way way way too much and ate too little, and brought a nice young man back home to finish the case of beer and talk about matters of the heart, and cooking, and india. There was a moment where it would've been ok to kiss him, to say "you should come upstairs," but i did not. Instead, i abruptly stood up, yawned, and announced that i was going to bed. It was 4:30 am at that point, and he gave me a hug and left. So that was ok. This morning i met with sam. It was. I'm glad i did because i got to yell at him and tell him really why i'm so angry and hurt: it's not so much that he broke up with me, though that sucks. It's how he broke up with me, broke my trust, and the way he's handled everything afterwards. Of course he doesn't understand because he's a stupid little boy. I told him he wasn't allowed to talk to me if we see eachother at the top, and that pretty much he didn't exsist any more as far as i am concerned. That's a lie. He's so present in my life, but after a while he will fade away just like everyone else does. He said that he's always thought that i spend much of my time being scared of what will happen. I don't think that is true, except in matters of the heart. In which case i'm terrified for obvious reasons, and have found no good reason to not have fear. Perhaps someday. I miss him. But, whatever. Bikes Not Boys-here's to spring flings and summer sluts. Breaking hearts and not falling in love. The time is now. We are the ones. Thus spake Eliza and i think this is the truth. Drank too much with ammon's roommates today but had some marvelous bike riding and fun in the sun. Thank god for the sun. I finally came somewhat close to mastering FLOUR TORTILLAS! In celebration, i'm making a tortilla holder of my own. Embroidering it, even. I feel sooo crafty. I am, however, having trouble with the colour scheme. I mean, what colour is a brick wall? Or curvy stairs? Or skin, for that matter? And the guitar? I know i should remember that it's just the outline, the simplest suggestion of "Alejandro and his guitar" circa 1962 embroidery transfer pattern complete with the days of the week. Alejandro was very busy: cooking, ironing, hanging the wash on the line, playing guitar, etc. He seems like quite the modern man. In other news: ammon and i went out today and i told him i was entirely sick of not hanging out with him because of all his girlfriends. I suppose i was a bit guilty of that too, but i did stop by every couple of weeks, even if he was never home. Anyway, it was really, really good to see him and his wisdom and love are always so good to have in my life. I don't think i realised how much i missed him until he put his arms around me. How much in love with him i was...how different was that heartbreak. I am still angry and sad. But again my friends have supported me, helped me hang on. Buny and craig and i got shit-faced on monday night, and they helped me remember that you can go on. (Oh how dramatic i sound; i have been reading grand novels of romance) Eliza sent me the most beautiful email, and made me promise not to fall in love but instead to be a spring and summer slut and heart breaker. And ammon, dear ammon, reminded me that it really only has been a month. No need to be graceful quite yet. Dick and jane have left. I wish so much that i was a better person. They drive me nuts and i'm very worried about my father. Very worried. He isn't well. My mother was great even if she was infuriating. She understood that they were disrupting my life, and that i needed lots of time to myself, especially at the beach. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful parents, but ayyy they drive me nuts. I am contemplating another party soon... I suppose i ought to mention that the puking/crying thing started. Whew. Wondered when i was gonna get there. So has the heavy reliance on self-medication. Finally, the realization that i can't be zoobombing for a while. It's too much and i don't have the grace to handle it. I wish i did, but i don't. And i am tired of pretending that i'm cool with it. But i feel like he got to keep all the friends AND all the fun stuff. It's NOT OK. It's really really really NOT OK. I wish none of this had ever happened, i think. I wish i could disappear. i wish he would go away from my life. Interesting tidbit: 3 out of the 5 guys i've seriously dated and loved live within a FUCKING MILE of my house. No wonder i want to get the hell away from here. What the fuck am i supposed to be learning from this heartbreak? Last time i learned that you can actually get over the pain. What is it this time? That it'll hurt no matter how good it seems? To not fall in so fast? I thought i was so careful...Perhaps it's that i can't control anything at all. This is not my fault. I went to the beach this weekend with Dick and Jane, my parents. Really, honestly. I'm such a mess and it wasn't ideal, and their company is difficult at best. So is mine. But i went to the beach, self-medicated v. heavily, lit a candle, and wrote all about all the wonderful things about me and sam. So many wonderful things. And i cried and i puked and i cried and i puked and then i burned all those pages. Was i burning my happiness? No. More like trying to let go. Took the ashes and threw them into the ocean and cried and puked some more. Desperately wanted a cigarette afterwards. Spent the night trying to figure out what is the lesson here. And repeating "it's not my fault." Wish i could be profound here. Wish i could cook, but i'm all para about being fat again so i'm eating crap instead. I know, terribly logical. I'm ready for the tough times to go away.
It's friday night and i'm in my jammies, reading. Last night we had tactix (zb meeting) and then crashed this party and i drank and flirted until about 3am and i found out that the guy i was flirting with was 24 and quickly made my drunken excuses and left. Good party though. And now i feel bad. Bad about sam, bad about my life. I have no idea what is going to happen. That isn't what worries me. It's getting through the next month, the next year with out being a complete drunk trying to forget how much my heart hurts. It seems that i am dealing with this so well. Everyone who knew me last year has remarked upon it, and all my new friends just assume this is ok. But really. What is going on? I've been fucked up for 3 weeks. I've occasionally broken down and cried and felt no catharsis. I'm terrified of seeing him. I want to pretend that he never exsisted but after watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind i don't really. But i don't want to remember. More, i don't want to hurt anymore. I can't seem to get my shit together. School seems utterly pointless. I didn't get the job at the BTA because i didn't have enough availablilty. Not that i wasn' t the strongest candidate. I'm so far in debt i can't even see the bottom. I'm living the american dream. Heartbroken, underemployed, overeducated, and debt-ridden. At least i'm not obese. I had a dream last night of a man. In my dream he was the warm arms that held me, the comforting coming home presence, the smell on my pillow. And he wasn't sam. That's good, right? I don't need a man. I don't think that my fair charming prince is going to come around the corner and rescue me. Well, i thought he did and i was wrong. Again. Hope only leads to disappointment. Whinging to my blog isn't really helpful, i suppose. Going to bed, getting up, trying to keep it together and find somewhere in my heart something to give a shit about. That's what'll help. It's obvious i don't give a shit about myself these days. Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm so tired of crying. I'm so tired of trying to be graceful and not being able to. I'm so tired of being scared of running into sam. I'm so sick of having to watch what i say, then breaking down and saying it anyway, completely obliterating any illusion that i may be a mature, reasonable woman. Shit. Good. Bad. Drunk. Indifferent. Sick. Sad. Broken. OK. I seem to be running the gamut of emotions. It's been almost a month since sam left. I was feeling pretty ok. Made out with a hot shift-er the other night but felt really weird about it the next morning. Luckily, my taste in random encounters seems to be improving and he was totally awesome about my emotional state, and who knows i may make out with him again. Then sam and i had a phone conversation that left me feeling really really bad. Damn him for not loving me. He basically implied that if i had kept holding back my emotions we would still be together. Well, fuck that. I love with all my heart. Once i decide it's safe. And i did. And i did. And now that's over. And it sucks. In the good news department, i've begun eating and cooking again. It started with Nisey coming over last week to wrench. We made pesto pizza, a huge salad, and baked pears stuffed with blue cheese and cashews. We also had crepes for breaksfast last week. Then it was saturday and the big peace protest. I rode hedwig and a few others rode as well. After the protest, and some long hours drinking at rocco's, i suggested that we return to my house and i'd cook. SG bought the food and i made 2 pizzas with sundried tomatoes, kalamata olives, homemade sauce, and cheese. Also, donations of killer green salad, garlic bread, beans, and of course PBR. We ended up in the graveyard with more beer than should be legal. That led to the make out session, which led to the...never mind. Anyway, tonight i'm making turnovers. If they are killer good, i'll post the recipe. blessed Johnnie B- Handsome Dave- EveryDave -Rev.Phi-l Eliza -Solid Gold- Surgeon-Tall blonde-Dirty Mike-deadbuny-sloppy seconds-mandarin moon- danimal-tackler-mikey-vixey-nerf...some of the friends who have helped, who are helping. Kel, alex, paul, jemiah, nisey, Robert, paige-non Zoobombers who are helping, And who the fuck am i? Elicia. 69greatloves. Chiligirl. Surviving, I rode 40 fucking miles yesterday-all the way to yoder, oregon, It was the scariest, most intense thing i've ever done. Fucking mountains to ride up. And i kicked ASS! When we got to yoder, there was beer and a shower, food and friends and a bonfire in which to burn a love letter. And whiskey and cigarettes. And the super cool Iraqi guy who talked to me al night about romance and heartbreak. The party was killer-minibike races, everyone camping out, a drunk naked dude running in and out of the bonfire, bands, impromptu jams, me passing out on surgeon in an armchair, warm and curled up with a good friend. Breakfast came in waves-salmon, oatmeal, omlettes, coffee, snacks, sitting in the sun not saying much. Got a ride back to portland, thankfully. I'm ok. I wish sam would come back, but i'll be ok. We had a good talk today where we were both saying "i miss you." Alas, it wasn't the "i miss you and want you back" conversation, but the wall has been broken. I rode my first 3rd run tonight; Johnnie B drove me home thank god. I rode hard and fast down hill on blue star-a nice change from my 16" (hedwig and the angry 16"). I felt very in control. Sloppy hit on me in that wonderful idiotic makes me grin sort of way. He does it because he knows he makes me laugh. I like that. Ismism was at the top of the hill. I am sorry that he feels so strongly about me. It makes me feel unhappy because i won't return that emotion. I can't. I'm done, drained.BIKES NOT BOYS- i only slept with you because i thought you were my bike. I wish...i wish none of this had never happened. Woke up this morning with the words Goodbye sam firmly in my head. This thought that i could just let go, that easily. Farewell, good bye, and probably good riddance. But of course it doesn't really work like that, not at all. I did figure out a couple of important things though. I'm pretty concerned with how he will refer to me in his poetry. And in general. And i am going to ask him to either not refer to me at all, to put those poems about us away (and give me copies so later in years i can remember how happy) or at least to refer to me with respect. Lots of respect. Like, i'm the girl who got away, the best woman in his life, that sort of thing. Then also, since he wants to be single, i'm gonna ask that he actually is single for a month. And in a month that he reconsiders. Those perhaps are far-fetched and too much to ask but what have i got to lose?
Hmmm. Sick. Tired. Sick. Sick in 75 different ways. Wish i could go to school. I don't know how much more of being in my bed i can take. Very little, I hate hate hate that the only thing i'm looking forward to these days is PB calling me late at night, talking for ten or twenty or thirty minutes, then falling asleep and doing it all over again. And i really don't think that's healthy. In fact, it's not. I'm unreasonably irritated with all. I've read so many books i may just die from over-reading. And i'm this close to killing my crazy roommate. I think i'm depressed. No, just pre-menstrual and sick. Really tetchy with everything. I'm terrified that i'm gonna snap at PB and he's gonna say sayonara. I'm feeling like i want everyone to go stick their collective head in a big bucket. I want someone to fawn over me at the moment, to groom me and hold me and tell me i'm beautiful and i'll be healthy soon, and to bring me cranberry juice and soup. Well, PB told me last night he thinks i'm sexy even if i am sick. So that's alright. I really really wish i had a life again. I'm bored stiff and tired of living inside my head. There is way too much potential to go loony in there. I think about things too much, and mull on them, and get paranoid, and blow them so far out of proportion that there is no turning back. At what point is PB going to think i'm a nut job? Can i please stop thinking that he's going to dump me? Fuck. I got a job. Started yesterday. I like it. I'm babysitting/nanny for a very active 5 year old. She's cool. The dad is cool. The money is really cool. Of course, i called in sick today as i'm a physical wreck. Wish i wasn't sick. I can't beleive i actually did this, but it is TOO GOOD!!!
MiniBikeWinter Kicked Ass! And it kicked my ass too, but it was worth every second. Fun. Pure unadulterated fun. Free. At little or no cost to the zoobombers. I rode about15 miles on my 20" bike, blue star, on saturday. Ouch. I rode about 20 miles on my 16" bike, hedwig and the angry 16, on Sunday. Double ouch. I've never been photographed more in my life. I felt like the it girl, like i was doing something great, like i was constantly surrounded and supported by all my friends. The winter olympics took place on a gorgous sunny day in the park. I had my first PBR on the way there, as i was on my 16" and it was hurting. There were a bunch of people from the community there. That was awesome. This older woman tried riding hedwig and it was rad! I tied 2nd place for the bike limbo but i had to modify my bike for it. I made a new friend-Nerf, a young, smart traveller who made everything more fun. Both PB and i were blown away by him. I was drunk, happy, nipping off a flask and pouring PBR down my throat. I had a hangover by 4pm but that didn't stop me. I had to MC a couple of events, but everyone shared the duties. PB and mikey had brought a feast to put on the BBQ, so i managed to eat well all day. Finally, it was over and time to go home, regroup, and get to roccos/3.0 for the race. We had food, tea, and more beer, and rode down to the max. At the top, there were at least 66 people there. About 40 raced and the rest of us went nice and slow. Damn. Damn. Damn! PB said he loves me. In the middle of the night, with my mouth full of chevre and kalamata olives, exhausted and giggling and of course i said i love you too. Then we let it go. No need to constantly tell each other. But every day show it. Every touch and kiss and caress and dinner made and bed made and dish washed, show it. Holy shit. I know about a million more wonderful and terrible things happened. I feel like a queen, albeit an exhausted, kneeless, sore and hungover queen. I am so proud to have this life. I am so proud that PB loves me. I am just plain happy. MiniBikeWinter is about to begin... So much work for 3 days of exhaustion and being cold in the rain? Possibly. Or perhaps, like all grand adventures, some exhaustion and some exultation and stories to keep us occupied for years afterwards. What is MiniBikeWinter? Well, it's 3 days of bike events that is being sponsored by zoobomb, although thank god we aren't organizing every single event. There are 2 big rides, a BBQ and winter olympics, a dance party (headache inducer), alley cat race, the first official zoobomb race, and more. I, of course, am commited to working on most events. But shee-it. How much fun is it to organize a whole festival devoted to MINIBIKES!?! It's kicking my ass, yeah, but i think it'll be worth it. Even if it's not fun, we will have all learned a lot. And it's going to be fun almost no matter what. I am worried about the cops, but i'm always worried about the cops. Food? Yeah. I've eaten. Our hot water heater caught on fire yesterday and then flooded. Luckily, i came home from PBs and smelled something and (after much prompting by PB) called the fire department. Nothing was really ruined but we didn't have heat or hot water last night. But then PB and Mikey showed up to rescue me and take me to the Delta Cafe to pig out and drink and be very mellow. It's so lovely to sit at his house and read a book, or work on a bike, or just gaze lovingly at him. (Ewww) I really can't imagine life without PB, nor do i want to. He's really amazing. I've never dated anyone who was as affectionate towards me as i to him. PB is that way and i don't know how to deal with it very well, but i love it. And so much more. Time The winter blues are trying to kill me. Work search and insurance fighting and bullshit and everything else is too. My body seems determined to not play along. But every day is another epiphany. I hate working through all this personal shit. It's emotional and Not Fun. How can i be part of the fun movement when i'm constantly having emotional breakdowns? Then again, there's those epiphanies. Here's a few from this week: Hiatus is a really, really good idea. I need to feed myself better. I need to not live at PBs house. I have my own house, thank you very much. Neither PB nor i are leaving portland any time soon. I don't have to rush this. I mean, i really don't have to rush this. I have been doing a pretty good job of maintaining a Life Outside of Having a Boyfriend. I am less busy and i know it's the only way to keep a couple sane. PB doesn't have the time or experience to do this. I can only encourage him to go out with the guys (or whatever. In his case, it's probably the lesbians, but whatever works). Every moment is not going to be the huge rush of glad and happy and fun and love. That doesn't mean that i immediately need to assume that this relationship will never work out. Silly girl. I do have a strong instinct to run before i fall any more in love with him. Such a strong instinct that i seem to create problems in order to run away. It's only reasonable, i suppose. I haven't had much luck in the heart department the last few years. The last good relationship i had was...let's see...no, no not him, nope, oh yeah. Tim Becker, 1997-2000. I mean, i've slept with some lovely men and had some solid goodness from a handful here and there, but i haven't had a good, somewhat healthy relationship since 2000. What about X, you ask? Well, let me be frank. How could the relationship be good when i wasn't even getting properly fucked? So if i am a little skittish, i guess that is ok. As long as i don't do anything idiotic. There is, after all, TIME. Did i mention that we have time to let this relationship grow and develop? I won't regret any of it, even if it does eventually break my heart. (And who does break ups right? Oh yeah-i know my heartbreak inside and out. It's a little skill i've developed over the years.) I hope that there is no breaking of my corazón any time soon. Yeah. That`s what i`ve been thinking. PB and Me on Hiatus. I think it's what i need. i know it's what he needs. I went to sleep crying last night, out of fear and misery. I woke up feeling ok. It is really scary. How am i to know that at the end of this he won't decide that i'm not all that he wants? I don't. I have no idea. I have to trust. I can't do anything but. Well, and get my shit together. And be myself more and better. And help him reassert his independence. I hope this is the right thing. I don't want to lose this. I love him. So, what has been going on? Well, the winter blues set in. Deep and dark and miserable. I'm fighting it, honest. Fighting it with every weapon at my disposal. But it's tough. I know i've been eating well. I know i've been cooking well. But i don't seem to remember any of it. I've been on even more of an emotional see-saw than usual. This past week marked the first major blood sugar event in ages. It sucked. It was supposed to be a perfect date; PB took me to Secret Sushi and we gorged ourselves stupid, then rode across town. That was about mile 23 for the day. We got to a party that didn't seem too terribly enticing, and unbeknownst to me, my blood sugar started crashing. Lower and lower until all i wanted to do was cry and leave, and PB wasn't really listening to me, and it was horrible. Finally we left and i started to sink into the blood-sugar pre-coma when we got home. Luckily, PB noticed and gave me glucose and pulled me out of it. Having a tangible, visible reaction helped me understand why i wasn't having fun that night, and it helped him understand it too. I was pretty fucked for the rest of the weekend, although we went on a solo bomb on saturday night and sat at 3.0 and just talked and chilled. It was the date we were supposed to have, in my opinion. There is such a delicate balance between hanging out just as a couple and doing stuff, and hanging out with friends and the gang. I love both but i need a balance of both. Anyway, PB surprised me with ardor last night (Is robert home? no. Is anything burning? No. Come upstairs...) and we spent a lovely evening eating, fucking, and going to art galleries on alberta. We were in bed by 10:30. Crazy!! I feel like i am beginning to try to run away because now no matter what happens with this relationship it's gonna hurt, ooo it's gonna hurt at some point, and my body is remembering the hurt from last year. And in a backwards way, i seem to want to avoid that again. But i'm not going to run away. This is too good, too precious, and too real to run from. It feels so good. It really is good, and healthy. When was the last time i could honestly say that? Anyway, that's me. Up and down, tears and giggling, utter exhaustion and pure joy. There is an excessive amount of glitter. I've had a shitty night. I'm glad for my friends. Perhaps this time, i'm remembering how much i still need other people. It also reminds me that every high is followed by a low. I've been so happy it stands to reason that i should have a bad evening. Even an emotional freak out.I wish i could write about the meals we've had. The Best Tuna Casserole Ever was one. (That followed the morning and subsequent day of the Worst Hangover Ever, Almost.) My favorite split pea soup with spiced yogurt on Saturday night before an improptu private wrench party was another. The veggie biscuits and gravy the next morning could certainly be added to that list. So much goodness in my life and my belly. Not to mention what happens after dinner. And before breakfast. Is that too graphic? Naww. So it's ok if i get a bit maudlin and irrational tonight. I'm frustrated with being unemployed, i'm frustrated with money, i'm annoyed that everyone isn't good at the same things i am...Instead i'll grant god-like permission to smoke a cigarette all by myself and sit on the porch and ponder my unique vantage point. And try and figure out how to get the excessive amounts of glitter from the bath tub, bath room, living room, bed room, and possibly living room. I really love LUSH glitter bombs... SNOW. So much snow. i haven't been biking in ages. It's killing me. I'm terrified of getting fat again, truly. I know, silly girl. Being snowed in has been a ball. Hanging out with PB and his housemates, hitch-hiking all over the city just coz it makes more sense, busses getting stuck all over the city, and the general chaos has been brilliant. Hanging out tons with Robert too. Ryan and Nisey and PB came over for dinner last night. I made Pastel del Pobres with HOMEMADE tortillas, and a yummy salad. Simple and delightful. Also this week i've made tortillas (i can't seem to get enough), a big pot of lentil soup, a big pot of frijoles, and rice. And pancakes to freeze and eat later. PB has made veggie chicken and dumpling soup, eggplant parmigiana, and the yummiest brekkie scramble ever-sundried tomatoes, blue cheese from his bro's college, garlic, and pesto. Holy shit. So, i'm going to talk about tortillas since they have been on my mind. They have been on my mind because there are so many other things going on in my head: my feelings for PB can't be ignored. I can't pretend that he's merely a cool dude that i'm doing it with. He is so so important to me; we are so important to me. And i have no idea how to just sit back and let it happen. But i'm trying. I want it. Then there's the whole unemployment/why am i going to school in the first place thing. I have no idea what i'm doing. So, i'll make some more tortillas. Standing in the kitchen with the oven and 2 burners going (so it's warm) and watching the endless snow and ice and rain outside, listening to NPR or all my tom waits records, rolling, pressing, flipping, never quite burning my fingers...it's pure meditation. Corn Tortillas 2 cups masa - THIS IS IMPORTANT- masa for tortillas is basically corn flour. Masa Harina is what it goes by. It isn't corn meal. It's not mealy at all. Don't confuse the two. 1 1/8 cups water, more as needed Mix one cup of the water and the masa and the salt to form a soft ball. The dough should stick together but not be particularly sticky. Nor should it be dry. Put it aside and cover it with a towel while you heat the griddle. It wants to rest about 5 minutes or more, but not dry out while waiting. Heat a griddle or pan to very hot. I use a comal- a cast iron oval griddle that goes over 2 burners and weighs about a ton. Break off a piece of dough about the size of a walnut and roll it into a sphere. Now you have several choices: 1-Press it in a tortilla press. This is the most simple way to make tortillas, and tortilla presses are stupidly cheap. When you use one, just be sure and put some sort of plastic on either side of the press so the dough doesn't stick to the gross metal. Press one way, rotate the pre-tortilla and press again, making it more flat. 2-Roll the dough into a flat with a rolling pin. 3-Press and pat it flat with your bare hands. I've never had luck with this, but then again i'm not very graceful, am i? Place the almost-tortilla on the very hot ungreased griddle. It should sizzle a bit, and if the edges are all dry when you roll it out, add more water to the dough. Cook on this side (Side A) for about 30 seconds. It's ready to turn when it doesn't stick at all to the griddle. Flip it and cook on Side B for about 45 seconds. Now flip again-are there lots of lovely brown spots on Side B? If not, cook it a bit more. Also, if there is any sign of dampness still on Side B, continue cooking. Check again. Good. Flip a final time and cook for another 20 seconds on Side A. The tortilla should start puffing up at this point. Repeat. Store the tortillas in a v. low oven, wrapped in something cotton and embroidered, until serving time. Now, this is tricky. I won't kid you, dear reader. My first batch was woefully undercooked. It's time consuming too. But what better way to spend an afternoon. It's so much more active then bread. Screw bread. Tortillas are where it's at. SNOW!!! Snow day snow day snow day! Snow day with PB and mikey ditching work. 6 mile walk to grocery store. Afternoon nap with almost more sex than i can handle. Epic journey across town before the busses stopped. Pushing so many cars out of the snow. Taking the trucks off of PBs skateboard and waxing the hell outta it, and drinking ungodly amounts of JD, and going snowboarding down by chester's minimart. Did i mention the JD? In a concerted (and i believe ultimately successful) attempt to make PB's girl roommate swiss like me, i matched her shot for shot as best i could. I know by the end of the bottle we were trudging uphill together, arms linked and head-butting the boys. I think i did a good job. I know i haven't drunk that much whiskey since i was dumped and drank at Sewickly's (aka SoSickly's). But then the fun ended, and all i've wanted to do is cry. Cry and cry and cry. Luckily, Jemiah had a solution for me. Alcohol. Hooray-appearantly, snow turns me into a raving alcoholic. And i don't care-for now. I am so freaked out all i want to do is think about the good in my life-PB- and that isn't the healthiest thing. I mean-it's great, we are great, and i am happier than i've ever been. But i do need to think about something else, sometimes. I can't fixate on us all the time-that's the quickest way to kill what brilliance we have. This i can safely say i've learned. Dammit. I think my freak out is partially the snow, but mostly it's school, and the fact that i have NO FUCKING IDEA what i'm doing with my life, another year of fucked up questionable unemployment, and finally, perhaps the sense memory of being so completely FUCKED FUCKED FUCKED by xstoff. That feeling of total hopelessness, the blankness, the puking...it's all coming back in waves and i don't want it to. Unemployment aside, this is a different year. This is a different boyfriend. This is a different life. Ways in which my life is different from a year ago: I have a passionate cause-Zoobomb I have so many girlfriends I have so many friends period I am a cyclist. I am skinny and healthy and physically brilliant I am in school I am in love with someone who seems to care for me all the time, not just when it seems like a good idea I have passion, happiness, brilliance, and really good sex, AND it is reciprocated. Did i mention the fantastic sex? I haven't hitch-hiked this much since i was in Ireland. It's so great! In the middle of a total complete freak out. I don't want to be in school. I don't have any way to earn money other than my (gulp) most obvious assets which i don't really want to rely on. I am broke. I am fucked.And i've been living in a fantasy land of fun fun fun. Shit. TEAM CANADA! (eh) So, i went to canada. Equally importantly, i went to the LUSH store. And most importantly, PB and i still really like eachother. I don't even know where to begin. Perhaps with my homecoming, because that's where all the fun started. Friday Dec. 27 trying to get home from colorado was definately ANTI fun. I almost got stuck in GJ until Tuesday! When i finally got home, after serious air sickness, catching the last seat on the last flight out of colorado, and almost missing my connection in phoenix, i decided to just go straight to PBs house as i knew i couldn't bike there, and i would pretty much be catching the last bus anyway. Dearest, darling PB had pizza and beer waiting for me, and we spent a lovely evening talking about our respective vacations and families. And stuff. We made plans to do a whole lotta nothing on Saturday night, perhaps involving a movie and having the whole house to ourselves. Hee hee. Truly an amazing night. I won't go into the dirty details, but whooeeee i ain't never had a night like that. Not with anyone. I may still be trembling. Sunday morning started with PB picking up his roommate mikey from the airport. While he was gone, i went to the store and got fixins for breakfast. I cooked a brilliant fritatta with red potatoes and monterey jack and zuchinni and tomatoes, and we stuffed ourselves brilliant. Plans to ride up to Mt. Tabor were bandied about, then we looked outside. Ooo it was gross and cold and wet and gross and wet and wet and wet. Horrible. It seemed easier to stay in. 2 o'clock. 3 o'clock. 4 o'clock. Now we were officially in the long dark tea time of the soul. PB was trying to make his new (non-apple) laptop work with the internet and dvd/tv features, and getting progressively more frustrated. I was reading but getting bored. Mikey was puttering. Finally, i had enough. I announced my plans to drag everyone to the Pub at the End of the Universe, a truly fantastic bar to be in on a rainy day, located about 3 miles away from their house. Finally, we got motivated to go. PB and i by bike and Mikey meeting us later. We got geared up, picked a route, and braved the elements. It was so incredibly wet and rainy. Wow. But then we got to the bar. Ahhh. Warm and inviting, full of nooks and crannies to hide in, fantastic juke box, brilliant bar tender, and micro micros on tap. We got a pitcher. Mikey came. We got another pitcher. It rained. We told stories about The Worst Thing I Have Ever Done. PB and i still respected eachother after. We got ANOTHER pitcher. Mind you, this beer was something like 9.75% alcohol, which i believe is WAY more than pabst. We were v. drunk. Somehow, we got back on our bikes to get home, finding a footbridge over the train tracks, and i think riding through snow. PB even made dinner when we got home, and we passed out. Good night. Well, then came Monday. The evening started with me, spectra, bethany, and mandy painting spec's basement. Of course, spec and i had to eat special xmas cookies to help us on our way. And i had to brew a big pot of coffee and kalua too. Then mandy and i went down to Drunk Poet's. It was SO cold outside. I was so happy to be in the Yamhill. The bartender and i communicate well. PB was riding with this girl he used to date (another story altogether) and wasn't there yet. So mandy and i drank and listened and chatted. PB and dummy (the girl) walked in and she was horribly rude to me and i had to, well, be classily territorial and icily polite. Which sucked because it started with me saying "Hey how are you tonight?" with every intention of happy inquiry. Oh well. A girl does what has to be done if someone is being fucking rude, you know? Anyway, after she realised that PB really was with me, she abandoned him to the bus. We drank and our friend LBC showed up. PB read the most incredible poem and kept the whole bar quiet for 20 minutes. I sat there thinking that it isn't possible that i am dating someone this incredibly brilliant, but i am. Wow. Tuesday was supposed to be the Day that We Left for Vancouver. But there were so many challenges. SO many. The weather was turning, and by tuesday evening when we were supposed to leave, snow was pouring down and sticking. The people we were supposed to go with had failed to get all the time off necessary. They were coming in from Eugene, and didn't get off work until after 10pm on tuesday night. Then they flipped out about us staying with PB's friends in seattle. And the roads were horrible. And most importantly, this whole eugene team was being led by a woman who really, really doesn't believe in time. So, team portland gave up on the idea of going that evening. We gave up so much in fact that i bought a big ole bottle of gato negro and made this amazing comforting spagetti/cheese/seafood casserole baked in the oven and a salad, and we gave ourselves up to the snow and the wine. Well, after some good snowball throwing, and building a snow troll, we ran out of wine. It seemed like a really good idea to walk to the store (about a mile) through the snow to get more. The outside world was gorgeous. Quiet and snowy and everything was blanketed beautifully and we played in the snow. About halfway there, when we were cold and wet, we found a bar that no one had ever been in. So, we had a pitcher. Back on the snowy road to the store, we found it was snowing even more. At the store, PB thought it'd be a good idea to get a jug of Carlo Rossi, my old college buddy. I voiced my protest but was shot down with the statement "we can show restraint." We also got groceries for breakfast. As we started on the return journey, we decided it would fun to drink and walk. Every half block we took more swigs. I know at one point PB tackled me and we fell into a parking lot of snow. At another point, we were throwing snowballs at cars till someone reprimanded us and we started throwing them at eachother instead. I know we got back to the house, and that is all. PB mentioned the next morning that i passed out at a rather inopportune moment. Oops. So, we slowly get out of bed, fielding phone calls to team Eugene, and feeling like we just want to go if it is safe to drive. We decide to go in seperate vehicles. They can meet us but we are kind of sick of their flakiness. Secretly, i'm relieved. I wasn't really looking forward to travelling with flakey hippies anyway. And they haven't even left eugene by 1pm. We get in mikey's car and drive to seattle around 4 o clock. By the time we get there and get lost (because mapquest SUCKS) and find PB's friend J-rad, we are beat. We eat and go back to J-rad and his lady hefe's place. A much needed time out was had. We watched ren and stimpy and got baked. Ahh. Well, it was new year's eve and J-rad was planning on going to the crummy bar that hefe worked at and hanging out. So, we joined him. The bar was horrid, the first band was unspeakable, the clientele retarded, but the company was great. We drank and played video golf and had so much fun. PB and i danced and i got to kiss him on the new year, and we held eachother and it was great. It was pb's turn to pass out, head in my lap as we got home and i put him to bed. The next morning was a slow hungover morning. Luckily i had some codeine/ibuprophen to take the edge off, and PB and i had our own room to further take the edge off. Eventually we wandered out in the living room and said wazzup. After a shower and coffee with kalua, i was better. A greasy diner breakfast ensued, then off to Vancouver. PB, mikey, and i had all done a tiny bit of research on our destination. I had a mapquest map of where the lush store was, and the names and addresses of 5 hostels. One of the hostels was locatable by the map i had, so we went there and checked in. We wandered a bit, finding a fantastic indian restaurant and pigging out. Ahh. Pickles. Chutney. Pickles. Heaven. Then back to the hostel which had a bar attached. We met up with this really cool guy from North Carolina and had a couple of pitchers. Now, i have this stick up my ass about hostels and hostel people. There is nothing wrong at all with either of them, but it's very easy to get sucked into that world and not ever see the city that you are visiting. I expressed this and requested that we did NOT let this happen. The boys were receptive, so we finally left the hostel bar and went to find adventure. And whoooee did we ever. First there was Pub. How can i even begin to describe Pub? This is the first thing that happened as we walked in. A very drunk guy walked up to me and said "i love you i love you beautiful girl." I replied "don't talk to me any more." I didn't feel safe there, but i was with 3 guys who would sure as hell go to bat for me, so it was ok. Pub had 1 beer on tap, served in large mugs of questionable hygiene. The ladies' room was lit entirely by black light and that was something of a blessing. The toilets were stopped up, the sinks were backed up, and altogether it was revolting. Pub had karaoke. Wow. The KJ was this tired old queen in a black satin shirt with glittery rhinestone fringe. He had a matching earring (flowing rhinestones) and a rhinestone star necklace. I was terribly jealous. There was also interpretive dance guy. He was old and terrifically drunk, and doing this combination of tai chi and modern dance. Amazing. The rest of the bar was filled with a cast of truly depressing characters. PB sang All Shook Up (i can't wait for the pictures) and it was a hit. Many people in the bar were dancing and everyone had smiles. It seemed like some of these folks hadn't smiled in years. At one point, this old man brought over 2 bloody mary's to me. He asked if that guy was my boyfriend. I grinned, almost blushed. He said these drinks were for us, for saying thanks. He liked PB's karaoke. Well, the drunk guy got kinda aggro at me and his friend was intervening and it started getting weird. Then another guy accosted me and asked why we were taking so many pictures (well, because of our cross - country photo documentary, of course!) and got a little aggro, and we were out of canadian $ anyway, so we decided to leave before things got any weirder or perhaps out of control. The best quote of that part of the evening was when PB turned to me after a bunch of guys talked to me, complemented me, etc. and said "I didn't realize you were the most beautiful woman in vancouver." I just smiled. Every picture taken of me that weekend was me with a huge, gigantic happy grin, i think. Leaving Pub, we walked east. Not such a great idea. It was the gross scary part of town, being the sort of place where you'd find pub. We turned around, but not before meeting a 4 stringed bandit, and seeing a 16" bike being taken away by a TOW TRUCK. Heading into the super tourist district, smoking some of the fine smokeables to be had in Vancouver BC, we found a dimly lit expensive looking totally empty loungy bar. With cushy chairs and lots of heat. (It was v. cold outside.) So we settled in for a couple of pitchers of micro, some hard-edged carolina wit, and general well-being. Our companion from N. Carolina was stellar. He immediately realized that i was just part of the gang and totally failed to treat me like a girl. In fact, insults were zinging across the table so fast i could barely keep up. It was wonderful. At one point, PB and i stepped into the smoking area and gazed drunkenly into eachother's eyes and told eachother how cool we thought the other was. So good. The end of the evening was imminent when our carolina friend realized his buddies were probably locked out of their room. When i pointed out that they were more than likely sitting in the bar beneath the hostel, he brightened up. We walked the few blocks back (impressing carolina with our sense of direction) and actually heard one drunk call to another "eh!" Once there, our livers recoiled at the thought of more beer so we finished up some of vancouver's finest and went to our dorm room. Which was suddenly full. Over full, in fact. Luckily, PB and i have no problem sharing a bed. The others were a guy from portland (natch) and a bro/sis duo from holland. They were a hoot. We stayed up v. late dissing america, talking about biking and cops and amusing bits of american trivia-such as dutch ovens (farting under the covers) and santorum. The dutch oven comment threw everyone into hysterics. When finally we settled into sleep, still giggling, we had about 3 hours before we had to get up and move the car to keep it from being towed. At 5:30 am, Mikey, PB, and i got up, dressed, and crept into the hungover vancouver morning. We moved the car and got back into bed. In the morning, we checked out of the hostel, took advantage of the free coffee and muffins at the hostel, and set out to see what we could see. A miscalculation in direction took us back east, to the depressing part of the city. Still depressing in daylight, tell you what. We reversed direction and went to find some of the head shops etc. VBC is so famous for. They weren't that impressive, really. Since we couldn't bring anything back across the border for fear of getting searched, we mostly just looked and moved on. We walked for several miles around the downtown district, finding the LUSH store. I was glowing and smelled great (of course) and we decided to find cuban cigars for PB and his dad. More wandering, then score. Finally, we decided we were hungry and i proposed finding this resturant that rwhy had reccommended. It was in another part of town, near the botanical gardens (another activity we all wanted to do). After a lovely walk along the harbor, surrounded by boats and mountains, mikey found the tourist info center. Armed with maps and addresses, we set out again. I've never navigated so much or so successfully in my life. Turns out i can actually read a map. At the resturant, we waited for a bit but it was worth EVERY SECOND as it was the most delicious food ever. Then down to the penninsula to drive around and look at the sea and snow. We had to finish that which we had bought so we skinned up, then onto the botanical gardens. We had lots of stoned adventures there- tunnels and games with footprints and magical trails, etc. I love that PB can be adventuresome. Mikey too. Finally, it was late and getting dark, we were all exhausted, and it was time to go home. After a goofy mistake at the border (the guard thought mikey was michele) we got through with no problem and drove to Bellingham for some Casa Que Pasa burrito loving. After dinner, PB drove us home. It was a long drive, but i kept him up and we listened to good music. We made it back to PDX and fell into bed greatfully. What a good trip. RECAP This is a survey that i stole from my friend Jemiah. I like it. 1. What did you do in 2003 that you'd never done before? 2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? 4. Did anyone close to you die? 5. What countries did you visit? 6. What would you like to have in 2004 that you lacked in 2003? 7. What date from 2003 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? 9. What was your biggest failure? 10. Did you suffer illness or injury? 11. What was the best thing you bought? 12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? 13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? 14. Where did most of your money go? 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? 16. What song will always remind you of 2003? 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: 18. What do you wish you'd done more of? 19. What do you wish you'd done less of? 20. How will you be spending Christmas? 21. Creamy or Crunchy Peanut Butter? 22. Did you fall in love in 2003? 23. How many one-night stands? 24. What was your favorite TV program? 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? 26. What was the best book you read? 27. What was your greatest musical discovery? 28. What did you want and get? 29. What did you want and not get? 30. What was your favorite film of this year? 31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2003? 34. What kept you sane? 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?v John Cameron Mitchell 36. What political issue stirred you the most? 37. Who did you miss? 38. Who was the best new person you met? 39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2003: 40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: I can't imagine why but I feel like dancing And there is nothing in this world That I'd like better than a twirl across your rickety old floor Maybe it's you You know your eyes are awful blue Maybe it's more Maybe you're all I ever waited for After all the endless nights when I wished I could still cry So the sun goes down and the world goes dancing And the stars come out and they all go dancing And there is nothing I'd like more Than a twirl across this rickety old floor -The sun goes down, Magnetic Fields Xmas dinner with my family It's important to note that the following dinner was consumed by the ANGLO half of my family. The white folks. My father and i being the sole chicanos in the house. Tamales For libations, we had margaritas and dad's home brew xmas cheer beer. And i go home tomorrow. Thank god. Last night i had a couple of good old fashioned freak outs. I am ready for my beloved portland. I went to see old high school and after friends don and laurie. L is 40 weeks pregnant, due last week. They moved from a tiny first house in the middle of town to a big sprawling house in the burbs, where all the houses look alike. I pulled up and almost started crying to see how utterly suburban they are. But i can't judge. They are happier than i've ever seen them. EVER. I've known don since i was 14, and laurie well since i was 19. They took tim and i in when we were in love and just wanted to be together. They have been so good to me and it's so good to see them so well. Anyway, PB called as i was leaving their house, and unfortunately had to go in the middle of our conversation. I wish that he listened more consistently. It's beginning to feel like a theme, and i don't really feel ok about it. it's the only thing that isn't ok, so i guess i'll just sit tight and see what happens. Time will tell. Finally, i started registering for next term. I went into my parent's room to get my mom's advice about something, and ended up leaving, feeling like a totally useless, wanton piece of shit. Why can she still do that to me? I called ryan bawling my heart out, feeling like i'm not even good enough to be on this planet. Luckily, he calmed me down and reminded me that i am a hard worker, a good person, etc. All those things that my mother doesn't do. Dammit. Anyway, i get to see PB v. soon. I get to go home even sooner. I get to get out of this horrible backwards town and away from my folks, who with all due respect, are not my friends. What will happen next? Colorado. Still. There are a million and one things in my head. I'm having a problem because i want to tell them to PB. They are just things-the sort of things that we tell eachother late at night, arms round eachother, or on the phone. How was your day? What triumph did you perpetrate? Today i went on a killer golden bike ride. Today i heard stories about when my grandpa was in college after he got back from the war. Today i kept my temper with my parents. Last night i got really effed up with the neighbors. Thank god. But here's the thing-distance, time, distractions make these not appropriate topics. I don't know why, they just aren't. He's having fun and, well, i'm making the best of a less-than-ideal situation. The truth of the matter is that i'm rediculously lonely, plus i'm horny. So, of course the first person i want is my darling fella. Will i someday be beyond the call of flesh and human needs? I hope not. Tomorrow's the solstice. I'm in colorado. Trying to look on the bright side of being here. But then there's everything else: And of course, my own bedroom with my own boyfriend doing wonderfully nasty things to me is always going to be preferable to what was my childhood room now wallpapered beige. Not that it's an ugly room, but i can't imagine ever wanting to live here. And i just watched a pretty sexy movie and i'm feeling, well, you know. And i didn't bring hello kitty. Oh well. Aren't the holidays fun? Sweet Potato Green Chili Enchiladas with homemade ancho/pasilla sauce- Oh YEAH! I woke up this morning from gentle dreams of forests. I was being held, arms and legs wrapped around me, skinny limbs bisecting my curves and holding me close and tight. As i drifted slowly into consciousness, my lips brushed skin, brushed other lips, and i smiled deeply. I am so happy about PB. Sometimes i feel like i need to pinch myself to see if it's really happening. Sometimes i start to go crazy because i think that i can't possibly deserve this, this can't possibly be real. Then he kisses me. Looks at me with those huge blue sky blue ocean blue fall into forever blue eyes and i breathe out and it is real. Whatever that means. Anyway, i had a good weekend. Stayed in friday 'coz i was feeling shitty, then went to PBs to go to a pimps and hos party. Now, i think p and h parties are pretty tacky, in fairly poor taste, but they are all the rage and i did have a fantastic outfit (pink corset, tiny nurse white skirt with a perfect flair, fishnets, boots) and who am i to turn down a costume party with PB? So some folks met us and we went to the party and it sucked huge gigantic donkey dick. It was horrible. Terrible. Unsafe. I wouldn't take off my sweater. After a rather short time, everyone but PB had agreed to leave. I hated telling PB that we were abandoning him, or i was going regardless of the group decision because i hated it so much, but it turned out to be fine. We went back to his house, a few more folks showed up, and we danced and drank and smoked all night long. It was fucking great. On Sunday, we slept in, had breakfast, and i rode home (new route-on the esplanade) to study. Then i rode back with fixings for enchiladas. But not just any enchiladas. No sir. These are the bestest damn enchiladas EVER. Sweet Potato Green Chili Enchiladas with homemade ancho/pasilla sauce Sauce 8 ancho and/or pasilla chilis, stemmed and seeded6 cloves garlic, chopped 4 cups water 1 tsp salt 5 plum tomatoes or small can of tomatoes, drained some pepper Put everything into a pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes, uncovered. Be careful of the fumes. Take the now deep-red mixture and put half in the blender. Puree until smooth. Repeat with the other half. Now, some will say this is where you strain it so it's perfectly smooth, but i prefer a little substance to it. Your call. This makes about 4 cups or more of sauce. Plenty for enchiladas. The Enchiladas 2 sweet potatoes, coarsly cubed1 regular potato, coarsely cubed small can of green chilis 1/2 cup plain cheese some butter if you want salt and pepper 12 corn tortillas veg. oil Preheat the oven to 350f. Boil the potatoes until tender. Mash them with 1/4 cup of cheese (or however cheesy you like), green chilis to taste, salt and pepper and perhaps some butter. Heat a small amount of oil in a small pan. Fry each tortilla just long enough to wet and soften it. You could also steam them, put them in the microwave, or ignore this step altogether. Grease a baking pan with high sides. Pour about 1/2 cup sauce in the bottom. Now assemble the enchiladas. Put about 2 TBS filling in each tortilla. Roll up and place in the pan. Continue until you have no more tortillas. Now, cover everthing (especially the edges) with sauce. Sprinkle the remaining cheese over the top. Cover the pan and bake for 20 minutes. Remove the cover and bake for 5 more minutes. The sauce should be bubbling and the cheese melted. Remove from heat and let it sit for a couple more minutes. Serve with more sauce on the side. Cures what ails ya Salad Head of lettucebig clove of garlic carrot scallion avocado balsamico olive oil salt and pepper Wash and tear the lettuce into manageable chunks. Cut the carrot into matchsticks and the scallions into little moons, using only the white part. Peel the garlic clove and lightly smash or cut open. Rub the salad bowl with the cut side several times. Add about 2 TBS olive oil to the bottom of the bowl. Now press the garlic through a press, add vinegar to taste, and a little salt and pepper. Now add the carrots, scallions, and lettuce. Toss well. Taste again. It should be VERY garlicky and not heavily dressed. Add a little more olive oil and vinegar. Just before serving, chop the avocado into squares and add it to the salad. This will definately cure what ails ya. Finals. Fuck. This t-day year was spectacular. Somehow 5 zoobomber cooks managed to make dinner all happen AT THE SAME TIME. I think we should definately be recognized by someone for making a miracle happen. Dinner was delicious, fried turkey and killer collard greens, mashed potatoes, cheddar jalepeno biscuits, 2 kinds of stuffing, shots of wild turkey from the official ZB shot glass, cranberry sauce, white trash potato cheese casserole, giblet bourbon gravy, mulled wine, a sausage pig made out of 3 kinds of sausage, and i don't remember what else. There was plenty for me, the solo veg head, to eat. And drink. And smoke. And when we all hit the wall-o-food-exhaustion, we sat and made rediculous jokes, almost pissing ourselves with laughter. Every picture that we took has SG sitting, doing absolutely NOTHING as is his wont. I love my ZB friends, i must say. Then i got sick. Suck. Started a freak out about PB and me, an ugly cycle that keeps abruptly ending the instant i see him, and begins the next night. But it gets less, and i hope it's just finals stress, sickness, and other related $ bullshit. He did the sweetest thing, the most perfect thing friday night that i can't even believe how good he is. It was critical mass on friday, (more like pitiful mass) and about 20 of us rode in the pouring rain. Pouring, dripping, horrible rain. I was feeling horrible to begin with, but i was planning on meeting up with PB and others to ride. Eventually PB and i connected, met at Skidmore fountain, and as he pulled up 2 motorcycle cops gave him tickets. Mikey and some others too. By this time i was miserable and wet as i wasn't fully geared out for the rain, but i wanted to be fun girl so i kept riding. Up to NW trendy third, across burnside to lloyd center, where i realized i needed to go home and get warm and dry. I invited PB home with me but he declined. I was disappointed and cross, though with no good reason to be. How could he read my mind and know that i really wanted to be cuddled and paid attention to? Well, in reality i didn't need the company; i was a raving bitch and needed to take a percoset, get in my footie jammies, and have a long conversation on the phone with a girlfriend, which is exactly what i did. Then PB called just to make sure i was ok. Perfect. Intuitively understanding the need for space and seperate lives (something i need practice on) but also caring enough to call and let me know he's thinking about me. Perfect. Wow. Saturday PM i decided i wanted to cook, so i invited PB over for a romantic dinner. Chilis rellenos, ancho sauce, fresh salsa, and frijoles with store bought tortillas was the order of the day. Damn. After a spicy dinner, we had an even spicier desert...yum. Damn damn he is wonderful. When we were extremely drunk monday night, he read a poem about our first date, a poem about fucking. Oh wow. Later i told him he made me calm. He said i was his anchor. I love that image. I wonder how drunk he really was, if he remembers. I'm so freaked out over the various dumb shit going down in my life-money, school, the accident, and work, that i keep losing sight of the brilliance that i have. Holy shit. I am dating the coolest man in the world, one who gives me both attention and space, gives me the fucking i need and the gentleness and attention and phone calls that i crave too. Damn. Now if only i wasn't the Queen of Mucus, i'd be a hell of a lot better off. Super Ninja Collard Greens I just climbed the fence of the community garden and liberated a screaming shitload of greens. I would love to pay for them-i would've left $ if i thought it wouldn't get stolen. But i can't afford greens, and they had so many... Stay tuned for Thanks-anyway updates ala Zoobomb. In other news, PB is out of town giving me a few hours or more to reasses and realize that a) I AM CRAZY ABOUT HIM and b) I AM NOT CRAZY this time regarding him. Very important distinction. Also, we really needed some time. We could intense ourselves out. But now maybe not. I need to study like a motherfucker, and sleep in my bed. Read children of god (maria doria russell, sequel to The Sparrow-one of the best books in this language) and cry. Read the scene where the jesuit priest falls in love...after he's left the church. Cry more. God it's a good book. Smell hints of PB in my bedsheets. Anticipate the next time i get to see him. The next time i get to touch and kiss and [blank] him. Oh yes. I even wrote a good poem last night. And finally, i went out with kennyl to the jasmine tree, the row, and finally the speakeasy for some afterhours beer. The surgeon called whilst i was at the speak and said that a few ZBers were at the basement, which is a mere 5 blocks away, so i rolled there and drank and got harrassed about my greens. Long story short, it's now 3 am, my bike basket is overflowing with greens, i'm somewhat drunk and smell like 4 bars, and am happy as anything. The only way that tonight could be better is if i could wake up in PB's arms, but the fact that i have my space is fucking great too. We do actually have separate lives and if we want to survive, we need to remember that. So there's my winter goal: remember that the boy i adore and i have separate lives even if we do love the same things. The practical upshot of that is: stay on top of my homework, non ZB activities, and don't lose Elicia. I had a slightly quieter weekend. Slightly. The weekend started with the Girls of Zoobomb photoshoot complete with lots of flesh and bling, and my tape covered nipples. And that ain't the half of it. Wow. Sam and i saw boot perform, then went and sat on esplanade and made out. Crazy icy bike ride back to sellwood and...i'll spare the details. Sellwood isn't half bad when there's a beautiful boy in bed, i'll tell you what. Saturday was gorgeous and gray and i wasn't hung over. I studied and worked on my spanish essay and bathed and ate sushi with rwhy and maja. Sushi and freezing bike ride=very happy me. Especially with my new totally hot waterproof gloves. Then i studied more (bleah) at the Row and met up with PB and Ten to go to what i thought would be crazy movement based performance art. In reality, it was worse than a Liminal show. Terrible, horrible, painful, not even ironically amusing. PB pointed out that if we had been able to be vocal, our snide selves, we would have garnered much amusement. But no. There were one or two shining moments but i don't remember what they were. Oh yeah-i took PB and ten up to the 6th floor of the B and O warehouse. I saw ammon and met his newest thang. I wasn't impressed, either with her or her theatre company, but i suppose no one will ever be good enough for my ammon. Anyway, afterwards i desperately needed a drink, and the Devil's cabaret was playing, so we sat with some mutual friends (because portland is this small) and listened for a while. Another epic bike ride home in the freezing leaves and another epic night in each other's arms. Sunday we made a pirate and ninja movie with rev phil, who spent lots of time filming my boobies and being v. friendly. I died lots of times and i discovered that PB can keep my attention for hours. Later, we went back to his house and he cooked dinner. It started to rain and get really shitty so i didn't bomb. Instead, PB, his rooommate, and i all sat doing our own thing-reading, writing, studying, in the living room and occasionally talking. It was perfect. Dreamy. PB helped me study-kisses for right answers. I learned the shit out of that material. All was great until the morning when i was going to class and realised i didn't have my keys. Suck! I eventually gave up and crawled back into bed. Life's rough. However, i was riding the mini. So, i caught the bus after calling home, calling tri-met, and again tearing apart PBs house. I showed up 1 hr 20 minutes late for spanish, but Manya gave me the homework and notes and was pretty cool about it. Rocking the mini around PSU was pretty fun. I parked next to another ZB chick who rides a bmx 20", and our bikes looked so happy together. The real point of this whole tirade is to get to last night where i a) went on the scariest bike ride EVER with a few ZBers, and b)learned that not only is PB great in every way, i RESPECT HIS ART. Whoa! So this bike ride: met at Rocco's after my italian exam. We went up to a new place, had some drinks, and started following this new windy road. There were about 5 of us. It was totally dark except for me and rhino's lights. At one point, we all dove off the road down a hill because of pepper (cops), but really it was ok. We continued a nice dark ride, some hill and little rain. Then we hit burnside. Taking a swig off the flask for courage (shit-we needed it) and cheering to Team Slow (me and lauren) rode down West Burnside-west hills west burnside. It was scary as hell. It would've been even scarier if i'd gone the pace that i wanted to go, but i wanted to support lauren and she didn't have a light, so we were Team Slow. It was the greatest ride ever. Crazy. Brillliant. After, (shaking and high as a kite on adrenaline) PB and i went to drunk poet's society. It was my first time. There were what seemed like thousands of his ex girlfriends but what do i care? Truly, i have nothing to worry about. I read a poem. Later, last night, he gushed about how cool he thinks i am. I had to stop and think for a moment; was i cool about his exes and down with being part of Drunk Poets because i know how to make him heart me, or because i was really into it. Honestly, it was because i was really into it. There was a moment or two where all these girls (crazy, not hot, not bike riders) rushed him and there was a touch of insecurity, but then i forgot it, knowing that this time it's different. Or, even if it isn't, right NOW is different, and i ain't got nothin' to worry about. He's crazy about me, and i'm crazy about him. But i'm NOT CRAZY. Finally. I hope i maintain this equilibrium. I really, really like him. It's all the security of X with all the great sex and adventure of beckertronix. Only better and different than both. Better. Much, much better. SHEEE-ITT!!! Can Love Be Found On The Mountain, or Verb Negotiation So i'm [verb + ing] a [description]. So I'm fucking a genius. So, i'm sleeping with a new boy. So, i'm dating PB. Dating. Hmm. Yeah. I can handle it. It feels good. Rolls off the tongue. There was some negotion involved. My skittishness and fear showed up in a variety of ways. We talked about chemistry. We made love. He arrived at my house with paint on his face and we ate soup. The truly named adoration soup. Oh wow. Oh wow. I feel really, really good. Zoobomb on Tour The Embarcadero with the Messengers This weekend in a few words: family bomb friday night roll to the Jolly mosh and drink almost kicked out trying not to make out so happy and bright fire night ZB rolls to the Vern more beer Buny hugs me and laughs still hiding the making out but then it's closing time and rather than dithering we just leave. Saturday morning hangover and sex is the best cure ride to the Limelight tom waits on the jukebox Bloody mary and challah french toast let's go to Beaverton ride downtown max then bus then stuck in traffic what the hell is that get out get directions get on our bikes get lost and discover what hell actually is: seeing our final destination across a couple of freeways and crazy streets. Even though there were bike lanes it was like there wasn't and we had a terrifying ride just trying to get to the place that we could see only two block two blocks! and we nearly get killed trying to get there fucking suburbs. Then the line went forever but i could wait in line with sam forever and be perfectly happy, especially at powells surrounded by books have you read this look at this hey let me tell you about this kiss me in the boat section in the art section shake hands with ORSON SCOT CARD wow i feel like a rock star now let's get the hell back to our city. Wait for the bus did i mention i got my period this morning oh well who needs to change clothes anyway my new wool pants are the shit even in the rain especially in the rain i'm only sort of cold and miserable but there are more kisses. Let's cook dinner bike to trader joes wine and calamata olive bread chocolate and kenny A and a crazy ride home loaded down with food and fun and then sam cooked oh manicotti and this red sauce to die for a bottle of wine that was spectacular truly brilliant oh i want to nap wait. The evening is just getting started Eat heaven (kiss more) eat and be full and well i hate to eat and roll but i'm almost 2 hours late for a girlz of ZB party/tactics meeting roll a mile good thing i am already in sellwood too bad all the directions i have are based off of starbucks -turn right at the first starbucks, follow the road, then turn right again at the next one. Shee-it what is this world coming to? Tactics brilliance we are brilliant the girls called me on the leaving with sam i blushed it was ok we were outed as a ZB couple and i am happy bouncing blushing oh he's so good we got shit done drank some wine figured out some stuff. At age 27 i fulfill my fantasy of being a pin-up girl. midnight time to ride to a party across town it's not that far river ride quite sussuration of wet tires on bike path no lights or helmet NO CARS just me and mandy rolling along an hour later we get to the party holy shit that was a hell of a ride i guess it was that far jazz party is weird they have no mixers we'll drink wine out of a water bottle carlo rossi it's like family cute boys and more kisses hi sam a small ZB contingent let's go to a dance party ok let's roll dance party new meaning to the word can't move in this house holy shit so many people writhing who are these people oh there's some people from the jazz party oh there's my strait-edge ex oh let's stand outside and look at all the beautiful bikes in this backyard i don't think anyone here drove that's so fucking cool what kind of cigarette is that? ok now let's dance finish the wine switch to water dance some more make out on dance floor it feels so good sam is drunk it's getting late 3am and we bask in ZB celebrity for a few moments "you girls ZB? cool" drunks start accosting us it's time to go sam is D-R-U-N-K and i hope he can make it home luckily it's downhill super close bike home fall into bed he passes out after charmingly telling me he's no good for anything at the moment i smile and say i like you for more than your cock feel like shit in the morning blow off a commitment fall back asleep 2pm gotta have that hangover cure god i love the way he smells i love his body i love it curled up next to me so sweet so sexy so good let me scrub your back in the shower what will we eat it's 4pm make a die flip the coin it's the vita cafe 2 hours of coffee and vegan eats and quiet holding hands i am so happy he says he loves it when i smile his neighbors are there we meet and hang out and shoot the shit i love it so happy time to go home time to deal with the mar on the weekend kiss goodbye to sam and goodnight soft under the streetlight fall rainy night i'm so lucky found a note in my mailbox about what a shitty friend i've been yeah it's been hard i was so dependent and had to break free of that so when she leaves i won't fall apart she doesn't ZB that's ok i owned up to being a shit head it's ok i will make more time I have to make more time i will make more time enough what a weekend hope i don't get sick no ZB tonight i'm not scared of sam i'm not a pile of nerves or crazy i wonder why that is. I'm terribly, terribly happy. Can love be found on the mountain? I don't know. I know that it isn't just the fantastic sex. It isn't just the moment where i lose myself, where i'm mandarin jello, chocolate marzipan with melt in your mouth nougat inside, ambrosia salad with extra whipping cream. It isn't just the fact that i laugh so much when i'm with him. It's all that. More, even. He carried me through the house last night, laughing and successfully not hitting any of my body parts on the many doors he had to manouver through. And then he...well, i'll spare the details. However, i've never been more charmed by anyone. And he bought lube. And i went to PP and got condoms. And, well, it's nice to know that he respects me enough... And to wake up in his arms: very heaven. I don't know. I don't know how to be mellow, how to let this wash over me, how to enjoy this brilliance. But i want to. It is all so good. I don't know what this is, but for once i'm not in a huge hurry to define it. Whoopeee! Thrashed, trashed, and assed So sore and exhausted i couldn't ride my bike downtown. It's raining and my knees feel rhumatic. But i decided that i needed to spend some time at home, taking care of that nice girl who lives here, so i didn't go to italian today. Fuck it. I hate everyone in that class anyway. Mostly everyone. Instead, i went grocery shopping, made chilis rellenos, and devised this weird-ass veggie soup. Weird ass veggie soup
turnip Heat the oven to 350f. Halve the squash, scoop out the seeds, coat with a tiny bit of olive oil, and bake it face down for about 45 minutes, depending on how big it is. It will be mushy when done. Meanwhile, dice the other veggies and peel the garlic. Cover and roast in a lightly oiled pan with a few teaspoons of water added until tender. This should be around 45 minutes as well. Cool the squash and scrape out the flesh. Put it in the blender. Add the other veggies. Blend, adding soy milk and broth or water as needed for preferred texture. Heat a small amount of water in a small pan and add a spoonful of miso. When it's incorporated in the water, add it to the blender as well. Taste for seasoning. Chances are, this soup is strangely sweet. That's ok. Start adding a little vinegar at a time, and a bit of salt. Not too much though because the miso is pretty salty. Serve with crusty bread and gruyere. Or, since it's vegan, just bread. Or bread and kick-ass greens. Or...you get it. Chilis rellenos-not the way my granny made 'em (easily doubled) 6 poblano, anaheim, and jalepeņo peppers-a good mix Roast the chilis until skins are blackened all the way around. This is easiest under a broiler. Put 'em in a paper bag while you grate the cheese and seperate the eggs. Peel the blackened skin off the chilies and very carefully (ha-it never works out like it's supposed to) make a slit on one side and scrape out the seeds and white veins inside. Now start beating the egg whites until they form soft peaks. Add the lime juice. Add one egg yolk and beat until stiff peaks form. Add about 2 TSP flour to the egg mixture and beat briefly to incorporate. Lay out the flour on a plate. Stuff or roll the chilies around the cheese. Heat the oil to almost smoking. Take the rolled chili-with-cheese, dredge it in the flour covering all sides, then place it on a plate and spoon the egg over it, covering both sides. Add it fairly immediately to the now hot oil. Cook until golden brown, then turn over and cook the other side, also until a lovely golden brown. Repeat. Repeat. Finish with...never mind. Drain on a screen or paper towels. Sprinkle with lime juice, serve with enchilada sauce or salsa, and feel really good about yourself. Endless party? Fried green tomatoes. Fried catfish. Potatoes with garden rosemary. Salad with garden veggies. Some sort of heavenly relish. Tartar sauce. A bottle of white wine. All this is what PB cooked. Heaven. Heaven is laying in bed all day and then cooking a perfect breakfast after a great fuck. Heaven is taking a boy to a dinner party with your dear friends after only 3 dates and watching him charm and win hearts. Heaven is hating the dance club you are in but it's ok because you can be an asshole and make fun of everyone there and their performance art, loudly and obnoxiously and not embarass the boy you are with. I have to say that this one smells real good. And he cooks. And he makes the bed. And he makes me feel so good-a million dollars, a fresh cooked pie, a good bomb on a full moon night. Oh god and he makes me laugh. And come. He has the most gentle...nevermind. I'm a little drunk, extremely exhausted from a really long party-days is it? And a good ride. I think i rode about 12 miles on my mini. Of course, most were down hill. but the last 4 really weren't at all. And i took a spill trying to catch the max for the 3rd run. I really only wanted to go so i could make out in the forest with PB. Hee hee. But instead i took a curve so fast and the streets had been cleaned and i went down. Ouch. Hot Damn First Thursday Glam Whooee. i just lost my previous brilliant entry having to do with what rock stars me and eliza and ten were last night, and how i made out a little with someone and brought someone else home etc. etc. But it's all gone now, leaving me with this: What a fucking good night. Oh what next? I quit my nanny job. It seemed so perfect. It wasn't. Those kids have the personality of unbuttered toast. Fuck that. And all the driving...two more days. Then, i start back at the ballet as jessica's assistant. Part time. My own hours. My own job. Me- assistant Prod. Mgr. How fucking funny! In other news...i was made love to last night. Slow, with laughter and gentleness and all of those things that i've forgotten. I made love. So gentle and completely unlike anything in so long. No worries about the morning, no worries about whether i was cool enough, or good enough, or whatever. Just two people being surprised at our own chemistry. Surprised as hell. This morning we tentatively agreed that neither of us needs a b or g friend, but it'll be fun to see what happens. Breakfast at MFP and then a few sweet sweet kisses on the corner of grand and stark, with flashbacks about the last time i kissed a poet on that corner. The last time i felt so good. But PB is...well, i don't know. I have no idea what's next. Nor do i care. I woke up laughing. We rode bikes. It's our book club. We traded weetzie bat for confederacy of dunces. Of course, this is the fellow that i emailed and said "ok, i'd love to hang out but it's purely platonic." Snort. I feel light today. He's so unlike the last one-the cold hearted man who is so brilliant and beautiful and such a good match except that HE HAS NO HEART. Poor wonderful man. I don't think i will do that again. Xstoff thinks he's off my radar. That's funny. I still dread running into him in the hood. Ammon slept with the girl he likes...i feel sort of bad but then again that man has no business having feelings for people, not until he can be honest. And really, that's friendship: to have your best friend sleep with your ex's new heartthrob...wow. Not that ammon was being intentionally cruel on my behalf. I guess i'm still angry but mostly i just don't care. A year ago i was a complete mess. Uncle bob was dying. Ryan and Jem were leaving. I cried a lot. Now, i'm light as a feather. New house, a man to explore, so much creativity sometimes i think i'll burst. So many bikes to ride. So many zoobombs ahead... Tonight we are rolling to my friend Gwen's gallery opening. I'm so excited. I need to somehow stencil on my new glam jacket, but whatever. Whatever shall i wear? Nisey lent me some kick - ass glasses for the occasion. I love being in a bike gang. It's so hot. Zoobomb on Tour! Q: How many Zoobombers can you fit into your apartment? I had more fun than i thought possible, and that even includes the time spent having a bloodsugar event, and the panic attack when i had to drive through a blizzard on the way home. Those bits were pretty bad, but everything else...whoa! Some highlights: biking through the town with hot bike messengers and pretending i was chevette from Virtual Light. Rolling by a bar and having someone say "there go those zoobombers." We'd only been in town less than 12 hours. Riding critical mass. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. Zoobombers ride down the hill so fast sometimes we crash but we always get up. Running into Sarah Wescott at CM and having a marvelous time. Camping in a ditch like sardines because the camp ground was closed. In a dan and megan sandwich. Warm. The joy of dan's breakfast extravaganza. The surprise that it even existed. Breakfast in Dolores park with coffee and a new tutu. Nice gay boys (of course) who stayed with me for much of the day. Wearing my costume, then wearing a tutu and protective gear all day long Becoming one with my bike, shitty as she is, sore ass and all. My tutu matched it perfectly. Bombing some of those hills...wish i had better brakes riding everyone else's rides...new respect for LBC Knowing that no matter what, we were a team in every way, out looking for each other and taking care. Screaming, chanting, generally making a ruckus. Me getting us kicked out of a bar-before i'd even had a drink. All the parties we were invited to written on my arm in bright blue sharpie. People coming up to us and asking about us. Handing out stickers, being bad asses Being totally, completely relaxed about the lack of plans, always. I'm getting so mellow in my old age. street poetry about me and mandy in perfect verse Being so damn proud of us-and proud that i'm part of this. I ride a mini and it's so god damn fun and brilliant. Let this romance continue. I am beside myself with excitement. There are almost certainly two of me. It's freezing cold out; i'm still wearing my footie jammies. I've packed and repacked, cleaned the car, and am now uploading all of the rest of my CDs to the Ipod. I am conspicuously not doing my italian homework. Oh well, that's for monday between spanish and aikido. It's prepositions which suck anyhow. God i hate prepositions. I do, however, adore my spanish teacher. Food? Nope. Don't have any. I'm a little worried about what i'm gonna eat on the road. I have 6 luna bars, will buy more at the store. I need to buy some booze but i think i'll wait. I'm ready. Even if i still feel like ass. Cheers, and here's to the longest zoobomb tour yet! And my first. http://multivac.drewish.com/gallery/zoobomb_2003-10-17/IMG_3281 Me and Rhino. What the fuck kind of expression is that on my face? Oh-maybe it's the "i'm riding a big bike coz i got HIT by a FUCKING CAR and i'm PISSED" expression. Or maybe not. I bought my first kegs. Aww, isn't that sweet honey? Our little girl bought kegs. She's a real little lady now. ZB had a party and a raffle. Perhaps we made some $. I made a bit of a fool out of myself but almost no one noticed. Merely my ego. And it smarts. Oh how it smarts. Days until SF trip..i can't wait. I'm currently wearing most of my bird/mad max road warrior costume. I've been up since 8am thinking about how excited i am for tonight's costume run. I got a job. I start tomorrow. Nannying for a super wealthy family who are remarkably down to earth. I'll report later. I've been eating greens. Collards, kale, mustard, whatever. Greens. It's like i have this massive iron deficiency. But really i just want greens. They are so cheap and so easy to cook and so fulfilling. Greens the way i want them onionfresh chili pepper-i've been using a thai bird's eye or similar greens vinigar or wine perhaps a tomato? oil or butter Slice onions into fine rings. Slice as much of the chili as you think you want. Heat the oil over a medium heat. Add the onion and chili and saute until the onion is translucent. Meanwhile, slice the greens. Now, remember that they shrink as they are cooked. Make sure to wash them first. When the onions are sufficiently clear, add the greens. Now splash some water, vinigar, or wine. Just a bit for starters. Cover and ignore them for about 5 minutes. Now start paying attention-do they need more water? It's probably time for that tomato. Now salt. Keep them covered but stir every now and again. Cook for another 15 minutes. Hooray! Greens! Lord make it stop. Make this week end. Lost a bunch of entries...oh well. Primarily, my Big news. I got fired. Well, forced to quit. Same difference if you ask me. I also got really sick-like for five days. My aunt has breast cancer. And finally, i got hit by a car. On my bike. Which is now tacoed. Done. It was my beautiful new mini that i had only bombed on TWICE!!! In other news, i'm ok. Sore and bruised and scared and minibike-less, but ok. Gracias a Dios, no? I'm building another little hot blue star, getting ready to kick some serious SF ass, and trying to survive school. I couldn't speak spanish today and that was freaky. I wish i didn't hurt. In the good news department: i went out on saturday night and had a lot of fun with the ZB kids. I wrenched all day sunday and then had a great bomb that night. I also had a good job interview. That's HOT! Someday i will cook again. More than just throwing eggs into the pan, or whipping up something from my stockpile of Boxed Food. Whoa. This life thing is pretty crazy. Some of the wonderful and not-so-wonderful things that have happened this week: College is weird. I have to do half my homework on the internet. Who in hell thought that was a good idea???? It's stressful and i hate it. College itself is full of college students and remarkable unfull of hotties. What is that all about? It is also time consuming and somewhat challenging. I realised that taking 13 credits was a wee bit ambitious so i dropped my spanish 3 class and decided to get a 4.0 this term instead. We'll see. I know it will just take some time to sink in. I got two free bikes on friday. The Golden Princess was Ikoff's bike and she's about the most beautiful cruiser ever. She needs some work but after yesterday, nothing i can't handle. The Blue Star is a bike i got from the paddock at the Community Cycling Center. I rescued her from the melt-down pile. Yeah-she was trashed but there was this beauty that rang out from inside. Oh gosh, i'm getting wistful about my new bike... Anyway, the Blue Star was a piece of shit. Totally blown and rusty and gross. Luckily, the zoobombers were tabling a wrench party downtown yesterday. It was really fun. There were a few uncomfortable moments when D and i were the only ones there and not sure how to be social. It was cold and gray to boot. I think he's more uncomfortable around me than i am around him. He chilled out-or perhaps i should say warmed up- by the end of the afternoon. So we have about a million bikes and i have my few tools and others brought tools and stands and Dead Buny brought his stencil kit, and we just started making bikes. I put new tires on the Blue star, fixed the coaster brake, adjusted the handlebars, beat out the fenders, and then she was rideable. I wasn't done though. I got pink paint and baby blue paint and sand paper and simple green and scrubbed the rust off her, cleaned every inch that i could reach, and painted her the pinkest pink ever. With blue stenciled stars. Oh god she's so hot it's like falling in love all over again. Who needs boys when i've got 5 bikes??? Other highlights of this week include recieving a gorgeous hoodie from eliza with the oregon bike law (full use of lane) silkscreened on the back, deciding not to tour with sojourn, and finding out that ANNA BANANA will be here this whole entire week. I'm missing Nick's brunch which kind of sucks. I reduced my hours at the museum to 2 days a week this month, and i'll start friday nights after Halloween. I'm going to SF with the ZBs. I went to Ezra's-he of the comic books and heart rendering-opening on 1st thursday with solid gold and rev. phil. I really have to go grocery shopping or i won't be able to eat this week. That's all. I've been riding my bike and playing with the ZBs. In fact, i am one now. I've even got myself my own self-wrenched mini! And she's SO SO SO HOT!!! BIKE WRITE TRAVEL FUCK COOK LOVE (wall hanging in room for last two years) Alterna-mass (critcal mass mostly sans cops), run-in and run away from said cops, bottle of rum, princess and robot party, mediocre random sex with attractive almost-stranger, bad hangover, mad bike rides, a zoobomb, and a brunch for 20 people...Hot damn. A word about alterna-mass. It was the greatest thing ever. Scary sometimes when the cars were being pricks and i was at the back, in the dark on MLK. But to ride on 39th as if i were riding down my own sidewalk...to wave and smile as we totally blocked traffic on Grand. 4 lanes. To be so damn loud, finally about car-free. I felt like i was finally getting to preach my religion. Though god knows that i talk about biking more than just about anything, except maybe cooking and food. When have i cooked? More like when have i eaten? Oh yeah-today. I cooked brunch today as Nisey was very ill. Quiche, waffles, falafal and yogurt sauce, and thai kedegree were on the menu, from 12:00 to about 7:00 when all the food was gone. Others contributed as well, and there was a great deal of champagne, vodka, orange juice out the ass, bloody marys, and of course our PBR. Highlights of the day included this comment: "I thought this would be just another drunken zoobomber party with beer. Next time you have a party i'm the first one here." Also, ilana made a gorgeous corset and it fits me. Theresa brought me a shirt. Paige brought me an inner tube for my bike. I fell in love with ikoff's bike, named her, and decided she's mine. Princess Gold. What else? The only uncomfortable moment was with Andy. I ought to do something about that. I had two flat tires today (damn damn damn) so i only went on one run at the bomb and had to call nisey to pick me up. I also learned how to fix my front derailer. HOORAY!!! I nearly cut the top of my finger off. It hurts. Finally, so many different people showed up. No one was an asshole. The bombers were lovely and friendly. So many people rode bikes too! I wish i wasn't so exhausted (these long parties are a serious commitment) and i could type the recipe for the kedegree because i am certainly making it again. It was so exquiste. Everything else just was, except maybe my totally kick-ass bloody marys. School starts tomorrow. Goodbye old life. Goodbye stage managing. Hello being 22. Hello fucking off. Hello zoobombing and biking and not smoking and being fabulous and not really giving a shit about anything else. Hello lots of sex with cute college boys. (Ok, i probably won't really do too much of the latter.) Another Fucking Good Day And today i learned how to make samosas. Me! OK- i admit that i merely observed the making of the dough, the making of one of the fillings, and the difficult bit-the frying, but i did actually form many, many of the little fuckers. That takes some practice. I need more practice. And i made one of the fillings (out of random vegetables from Nisey's fridge) and raita. I also worked a load-out for PICA at the newmark. I hate being a stage hand. It sucks SO MUCH. But there were some good folks there, and some new guys who didn't suck. And i invoiced for a full 8 hours, though i didn't work a fraction of that, per my boss's instructions. That didn't suck. There is a slim chance that the ballet will hire me to work as an assistant to kira for a while. Maybe, just maybe i can QUIT THE MUSEUM!!! Finally, i played some kickball and some dodgeball. It was lovely, misogynistic as usual, full of assholes and boys who i would never dream of kissing, and a total lack of social skills. I took some codeine and drank a pbr, and didn't feel a thing. So, so nice. So, i really want to post the samosa recipe, but until i've done it unsupervised, as it were, i don't think i will. Soon though. Soon. The Most Perfect Day It started with a six martini and whiskey hangover. I groaned. And hurt. I went to strike for seven great loves. It was surprisingly easy, regardless of the pounding in my head. A gorgeous sunny fall day, perfect for the last time i get to wear a sleeveless shirt. Then off to the Car-Free Day fair. As Ammon and i pulled up, i saw beautiful C and a bunch of the Zoo Bombers. I stopped by the tent, still aching and a little out of it from all the work i had been doing and all the water that wasn't in my system. I made myself useful and ended up sewing a patch on C's police uniform. It said bike theif. He was dressed as one of the off-duty officers that stole the mini-bike library from outside rocco's pizza. Anyway, i gawked at him for a while, then started noticing all the wonderful things (and boys) around me. Then the day just got better and better. Mikkle Hanson appeared and gave me his leftovers- a gigantic mezza platter from Nicholas', someone handed me beer, i took a swig from the leftover whiskey, borrowed LBC's hat to keep the sun out of my eyes, and sat down for some serious boy watching and hang-over getting overing. Mikkle stenciled my work bag with a beautiful pattern of chainrings while i ate and ate and ate. The zoo bomber boys sat and talked with me and i began to feel better. I worked on some embroidery. Then green bike boy showed up. If i were a stalker, i would stalk GBB in half a heartbeat. I have gone so far as to bike a few blocks out of my way to see where he was going, to surrepticiously track his movements around Nature's, and finally to actually invite him to Spore's show a month ago. But i'd never been that close to him, where watching him play bike polo was the whole game. Wow. Bike polo. Who knew how fascinating, how scintillating a sport it is. What else? I became the scorekeeper for the minibike olympics because of my stopwatch. Mostly we had minibike races, bike throwing, and beer runs. The trick with the beer run is that you had to take a minibike, go to the store, get the key for the beer cooler, purchase it, and come back. Times were figured out by a rather esoteric formula involving the actual time, the kind of beer, and the number of beers brought back. Needless to say, the Zoo Bomb tent was quite a ways away from the rest of the festivities. We were grilling and drinking and generally having fun. The drum squad showed up. I hadn't realized this, but the portland drum squad (does anyone know what they are actually called?) consists almost entirely of really hot percussionists in tasteful matching black outfits with reflectors down the pant legs, who march in formation and even have flag girls. I love them. Finally, as if everything weren't great enough, i went on my first zoo bomb. Twice, in fact. It wasn't so scary although i saw a couple of wrecks and a lot of sparks. Mostly it was cold and i wasn't feeling social enough to hang out at the top of the hill for a couple of hours. But damn that is fun. And i met a beautiful man- maybe i'll see him again. AND mikkle stenciled a shirt for me while we were on the mountain. It's really great. BTW-the zoo bombers are a group of folks who max up to the zoo, ride up and up and up and up and up, drink and smoke and generally get lit, and then bomb down as fast as possible. Many do this on bikes with sixteen, eighteen, and twenty inch wheels-kid's bikes or minibikes. Some do it on choppers. The beautiful man was on a scooter. A fat tired, old school sort of scooter. They are crazy and brilliant. There are few women that hang out. A bunch of 20 year old girls, but almost no women. That was weird. I felt like i could ride my bike forever today. When mikkle and i were going home after the 2nd run, i was convinced that i could just keep going and going. I rode up a few blocks with him just to keep talking and riding because it was so perfect. I hardly thought at all of A, A, or C. What freedom it is to not think about boys and relationships all the fucking time. Can it last? Did i cook? Not a bit today. Will i sleep like a princess? Hell yeah. Things to do while waiting for my hair to bleach: update blogcoach slater on his Dell'arte piece laugh and giggle with nisey I'm not sure that there is any cooking going on today. But today has been beautiful anyhow. I woke up slightly hungover (When did i start getting hungover after 2 and a half beers? Oh yeah-when i stopped eating dinner after a show and went straight to the booze. Oh well.) and slowly, so slowly and peacefully biked to the farmer's market. With no hands and perfect coffee. Then i came home, stared at The World's Most Perfect Beets, and gave them to Nisey. Slater came over and we worked on his audition for several hours. I feel like just a tiny bit of me is ready to utilize the last ten fucking years of being in rehearsals and seeing SO MUCH BAD THEATRE. I do know a hell of a lot. Or, i have a highly developed aesthetic. According to me. Strange. I feel like i have three areas of frustration or drama in my life. Christoph (and that PISSES me off), Ammon who doesn't love me but acts like he does, sometimes, and Andy, who is just so good and sweet and probably exactly what i don't need. And i don't know how to deal with any of them. Oh well. Tomorrow there will be some cooking and some resting and some goodness. So last night i got all excited and tried to change and fix all the crap that is wrong with the layout etc. of this page. It turned into a complete mess and totally destroyed my other blog. That's ok. Brandywine's camp journal is from a very long time ago. I'm waiting for a simple tomato bean zuchinni feta casserole to bake. If it is good, i'll post the recipe sometime this week. Andy gave me fresh tomatoes. And gwen gave me zuchinni. And some nice lady gave me rosemary. Yum. In other news, well, xstoff won't get off my back. At what point do i tell him to fuck off? He is patronizing (i think it would help us baby) and NOT HELPFUL. Baby? Who in this whole world has the right to call me baby? Ryan miller and nat, kenny and ammon. All boys who love me. Not some fucking ex. Damn him for stirring me up again. Anyway, i have been rearranging my house and we got a couch and a new piano. It's going to be GORGEOUS and i can have lots of parties and everything will be wonderful. Dammit. Today i am beset by questions. Why do some men insist on being friends with their ex-girlfriends? Ah...so many questions. Anyway, i cooked waffles from a mix this morning. But oh did i cook waffles. Hoooeey were there some waffles. I made about a dozen-masala peach waffles and veggie bacon and curry waffles. They are in the freezer, in an attempt to save $ and not buy the delicious frozen ones any more. I'm exhausted from working and not slapping my boss and bombing the zoo (that means riding down from washington park) and staying over at andy's and not really sleeping and then rearranging my downstairs living rooms. I know i ought to go up to Nisey's and return the waffle maker etc., but i really just want to watch the rest of the 6 feet under dvd (mustn't forget about the other movie i rented too) and sleep. Some significant events: I saw some of the most amazing theatre i've ever seen last night. It was a farewell cabaret for one of the performers who won't be with us for our closing weekend. I watched my collegues transform themselves into pure genius. There was some singing, some monologues, a gorgeous commedia piece, jono on the teen guitar, some truly brilliant movement pieces, 2 parts of the show that i'd never seen (oh gawd-kimberly's piece about the city-there, in that building there is man...and there is a woman on her fire escape, surrounded by her plants, drinking a glass of red wine and wishing this night would never end...). I cried. There is so much beauty with those people. Finally, to close the evening, a former member of the company, an opera singer, sang O solo mio. His clear tenor rang out in the howl room and i slumped, on PBR #3, between ammon and sabra, and tears fell. Then we went to MFP and got drunk. Alas, i lost Warm Fuzzy. My fuzzy black vest that i adored so much. I finally pulled him out for wearing, and lost him sometime between getting to MFP and leaving. I wonder if all this losing of jacket that i've been doing is a sign to GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE for the winter. That makes 3-yes THREE-of my favorite sweaters/jackets/etc. I finally got brave enough to call a doctor about this fatigue problem i've been having. Scary. Hope it's not mono. I hate all doctors who aren't dr. crone. Why can't i just go to the doctor who loves me and knows my body and cares? Oh yeah-because i don't have health insurance or money. Well, last night i got around to using the green beans that i got for free outside the community garden last week. They were slightly smaller than chinese long beans, sweet and crunchy and delicious. I had this idea of cream of green bean soup in mind, so i experimented. I also made a delicious apple bake thing for Rocker and Robert as a treat for moving the Desk Of Death out of the living room, but i don't recall the recipe off the top of my head, so i won't post it. It was fucking good though. Green Bean Soup 1 lb (?) green beans2 potatoes, thickly diced 1/2 onion some half and half a few cloves of garlic rosemary-preferably freshly dried olive oil salt and pepper Put up a small pan of water to boil. Add the potatoes when it is simmering, and cook until tender. Separate the pretty green beans from all the rest. Make a pile of pretty (about two-thirds of the beans) and not pretty. Chop the not-pretties and add them to the potato pot. Slice the pretties on the diagonal into 1-inch lengths. Dice the garlic and chop the onion. Heat enough oil to cover the bottom of a large saute pan. Add the onions and garlic and cook until soft and translucent. Add the green beans and saute until bright green but mostly tender. Meanwhile, drain the potato-bean pot, reserving the liquid. Place half of this into the blender. BE CAREFUL not to overfill it. And cover the lid with a towel for the love of god. Blend to a nice mushy mess, adding the liquid if necessary to get a thick but gloppy substance. Put the thick-but-gloppy back into the potato pot, add the green bean and onion mix, and season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper. Now, finish it with a few splashes of half and half, and about 2 TBS rosemary, but add the herb carefully as it needs to be a very present part of the flavor, but not overpower it. Cook this mixture at a slow simmer for another 10 minutes. Serve with bread and love. September 12, and boy has this month SUCKED HUGE DONKEY DICK. Michael broke up with me for another woman. I suppose i can content myself with the thought that there is actually another woman, not some phantom ex as was the case with xstoff. Fucking drunken poet. Fucking broken elicia-again. I've decided to take some time off from boys and relationships. My heart simply cannot take this anymore. My friend Adams died yesterday. Johnny Cash kicked it today. I didn't get financial aid for college. I had to borrow $ from dick and jane. Ammon is in love with Ginny. I still work at the museum despite my best intentions. Nisey and Spore are having difficulties. I have a cold. My knee has almost completely given out. AND IT STARTED RAINING. OK-enough of the shit-there is some good somewhere, right? I am starting school. I am doing lots of great embroidery. I haven't had a proper cigarette in a few weeks (other than the night michael dumped me-but i think that's perfectly understandable). I have the house to myself for the month. I love working for Sojourn theatre even if it is kicking my sorry ass. I am super skinny and cute and don't have spots anymore. Jemiah moved back. Ryan moved back. Nisey and Mo and Slater all live 4 blocks away. Things aren't so bad. So here is my official Things Really Don't Suck That Much Casserole. I made this for Jemiah the other night upon her grand return to portland. And it fucking rocked. TRDSTM Casserole - AKA Pastel del Pobres : cake of the poor (adapted from yummy veggie mexican cookbook) Part 1 Basic cooked tomato sauce 1 1/2 lbs ripe tomatoes OR 1 28 oz can, drained (i used canned)1 chopped onion 6 cloves garlic, peeled 2-4 jalepenos, toasted, peeled, and seeded 2-4 other peppers: anaheim, poblano, cherry, etc., toasted, peeled, and seeded 1/4 cup or more chopped cilantro 2 TBS dried mexican oregano 1 tsp salt 8 grinds black pepper 1 or 2 TBS sugar 1 TBS vegetable oil Chop the tomatoes and put them in the blender along with the onions, garlic, cilantro, chilies, herbs, salt, pepper, and sugar. Blend until mixed and somewhat smooth. This is not a smooth sauce, however. Heat the oil in a VERY deep pot (that has a cover) and add the blended mixture to the oil. Bring to a boil for 2 minutes, then reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for another 15 minutes. This is spectacular. It could be used for any number of things at this point-regular table salsa being merely the most obvious. Part 21 cup vegetable oil 24 dried, slightly stale corn tortillas Basic cooked tomato sauce (boring name, i know) 2 cups grated mild cheese 1 zucchini or summer squash, thinly sliced 1 ear of corn, kernels removed (optional) Preheat oven to 375. Steam the squash until almost perfectly tender. Season with oregano, salt, and pepper if you wish. Heat the vegetable oil in a deep skillet to very hot but not smoking. Take each tortilla and pass it through the oil, cooking for a total of 5 seconds. Drain and pat out excess oil from them. Grease a lasagne pan or similar. Arrange a layer of tortillas (you can tear them to make them fit better) on the bottom of the dish. Add a layer of sauce, then squash, then cheese. Repeat. Repeat. On the second to last layer, sprinkle the corn on top, Finish with cheese. Put it in the oven for 15-25 minutes, until the whole thing is bubbly hot and the cheese just starts to brown. Let it sit outside the oven for about 5 minutes before serving. Die happy and fat. The rains started. Full loud heavy rain. I can't believe it. I don't want it. Luckily, i had the day off to acclimatize. I made lemon-yogurt muffins and squash mushroom quiche this afternoon. I even made my own crust but it kinda sucks so i won't post the recipe. Quiche 1 cup of diced summer squash1 cup sliced mushrooms 4 cloves garlic, sliced 2 shallots, sliced olive oil 3 eggs 1 cup milk 1 cup assorted cheeses, cubed (i used assiago, feta, and monterey jack) prebaked pie crust Preheat oven to 375. Saute the garlic and shallots in a little olive oil until soft and transparent. Add the mushrooms and some form of liquid-milk, wine, or water. Cover and saute-steam fover medium low for 10-15 minutes. Add the squash and saute for another 5 minutes, still covered. Remove the lid and raise the heat, cooking off any residual liquid. Beat the 3 eggs and milk together in a small bowl. Make a layer of cheese in the crust. Make a layer of squash and mushrooms. Pour the eggy mix over that, and dot with cheese if you are feeling wild. Bake for 35 minutes or so, until the middle isn't wiggly and a fork stuck in the middle comes out clean. Today Nisey and i went to the community garden down the street from our houses. I paid 3.50, she paid 3.00. We got 4 different kinds of greens, basil, a couple of insanely gorgeous tomatoes, baby cabbage (so cute!), some chilis, and beets. And some other stuff that i forgot. If we go work for an hour, we get 7.00 worth of vegetables. That's practically free. I LOVE BARTERING! She is making plum-apple preserves with plums from my backyard and apples from the neighbor's. Alas, i am not helping. Instead, i am going out with MBC because i feel sorry for him. That won't be nearly as fun and i am questioning why i bother. Speaking of men-i am seeing someone and he makes my heart sing. Except that he lives in fucking arizona. What the hell is that? We both know that this could be the best thing ever or the most tragic. We are both hopeless romantics. He is wonderful. I did make corn patties today that i can't seem to get enough of, so here's the recipe. It's fairly time consuming when it comes to cooking them, so plan well. Croquetitas de maiz (corn patties) 3/4 cups water1 cup masa harina, coarse 2 eggs, lightly beaten 2 anchos 1/4 cup cilantro, chopped 1 tsp sugar 2 tsp salt 8 grinds black pepper 3 ears of corn 1 TBS vegetable oil (plus more) Soak the chilis in hot water for 20 minutes until soft. Stem, seed, and finely chop. Mix 1/2 cup of water with the masa and make a dough. Add the eggs and the rest of the water and mix until it is wet and sticky. Add the chilis and incorporate into the dough. Peel and de-silk the corn. Scrape the kernels into the masa mix. Add the cilantro, sugar, salt, and pepper and blend well. Heat the vegetable oil in a large skillet over high heat. Maybe you want to use 2 or 3 skillets actually, Make 2 inch patties (oil your hands if you want) and crisply brown on each side. Turn the heat to low and cook the patties for 20 minutes. They need to be cooked all the way through. Serve with lime slices to squeeze and yogurt (if you're me). Tomatillo salsa (scroll down for that recipe) is perfect too. Oh how shall i sing the praises of tomatillo salsa? So simple, so pure, so exciting. So here it is: Tomatillo Salsa 10 or so tomatillos, husks removed1 large onion 2-3 jalepenos 1-2 anaheims 10 sprigs cilantro salt pepper fresh corn kernals (optional) Roast the peppers over an open gas flame or in a broiler, turing so they are completely blackened. Put in a bowl covered with a tea towel or in a paperbag to steam for about 5 minutes. Remove the blackened peels, set aside the seeds if you think you'll want more spice, and chop. Core the tomatillos and dunk in boiling water for one minute. Drain, and chop. Chop the onion and the cilantro, and add to the blender. Put in the chilis and the tomatillos. Frappe. (I just wanted to use that word.) Taste for seasoning, add salt and pepper, and more jalepeno seeds if you want. If you are adding corn, it's good to have the salsa super hot. Blend again, taste again, add some lime juice if the tomatillos are ripe and sweet, then add the fresh raw corn kernals. Die happy in the the knowledge that you have mastered tomatillo salsa. Ahhh...hear the glorious strains of unemployment. The non-exsistent clink of change in my pocket, the soft sussuration of my fingers counting credit reciepts in my wallet. Oh joy. This again. I hate this. However, rather than hating and being unproductive, i'm trying to hate and be creative and useful. I started today with an inspired breakfast. This recipe is from a strange book called Amazing Soy. It's glossy and over-written, but if the rest of the recipes are as superb as morning miso, well, i'm sold. Morning Miso
4 cups vegetable broth ( i don't see why water wouldn't work) Mix the broth, lentils, onions, garlic, tumeric, and ginger in a deep pan, bring to the boil, and reduce to simmer for 20 minutes, or until the lentils are soft. If you are using corn, add it in the last 5 minutes. Let this mix cool slightly. Blend and puree in a blender, but BE CAREFUL not to fill the blender up more than half-way. Add the miso to taste and whisk in. Add the sliced spring onions and serve warm in comforting mugs. Fruit Curry Home-made curry powder Orange tofu The triumphant lime pickle These are some headlines running through my brain, as i had a wonderful cooking night with Leandro, Nisey, and Ryan. It feels so good to have friends to cook for again. And they like weird indian food. Or thai food. Or whatever. Then again, Nisey made beet salad from my adaptation of Ilana's recipe. She's a food geeks too. However, the hour being what it is, and my exhaustion level being what it is, i think that i will fill in the recipes at a later date. I have to bitch that the look of this page is now all fucked up and i have no idea at all what happend. I'm cross about it, especially as i have absolutely no clue how to fix it. And i'm not speaking to any of the guys that i know who could show me how to fix it. Piss. So what the hell have i been up to? Funny you should ask... I've been cooking some. Not quite enough though. I've been so damn exhausted from working (currently at oregon children's theatre) and biking and volunteering (at the Community cycle center) that i have no creativity in the kitchen. But then there's the farmer's markets. O the farmer's markets. So, a sample of what i've made this week: Moderately successful salad rollls rice wrappers - NOT egg roll wrappers (hence the moderate success factor)cucumbers-matchsticked carrots-matchsticked cabbage-sliced fine cilantro and basil, finely chopped ginger-finely diced scallions-matchsticked mung bean sprouts hoisin sauce tofu sliced thin and small tamari dark sesame oil vegetable oil Cook the tofu in a mix of oil and sesame oil; add some tamari and let them get brown and a tiny bit crisp. This takes a while. Lay a wrapper out with a corner pointing towards you. Spread a thin layer of hoisin sauce on the wrapper, then start adding a few of each thing. Fold the whole thing up like an envelope, sealing with water, and voila. Don't use egg roll wrappers. They fall apart and you end up having to steam them (bad on hot day) to get them to stay yummy. Eggplant Salad Eggplantcapers kalamata olives, pitted and chopped tomatoes garlic basil olive oil balsamic vinegar Steam the eggplant until soft. In a bowl, mix the capers, olives, basil, a couple of splashes of oil, and a couple splashes of vinegar. Add the tomatoes and crush 2 or 3 cloves of garlic into the mix. Stir. Add the eggplant, check for seasoning, and enjoy. This is even better after hanging out for a few hours, or in the fridge for a couple of days. Serve with toasted pita points. Crazy thai dinner This was something i came up with whilst wandering the farmer's market, looking for inspiration. It ended with an impromptu dinner party on a slick summer evening with lots of mumbled groans of appreciation. tempehcan of coconut milk 2 red potatoes-chopped long japanese eggplant green beans garlic shoots shallots-chopped jalapeno-fine half-rings, seeded if desired garlic-pressed fish sauce lime juice ginger-grated kaffir lime leaves a tomato Saute the garlic, lime leaves, grated ginger, shallots, and jalapenos in some oil. This mixture wants to be strong. Meanwhile, boil the waxy potatoes til 1/2 tender. Prep the remaining vegetables. Chop the green beans and garlic shoots into 2 inch pieces, and chop the eggplant into medium sized chunks. (This is the step i forgot last week.) Heat a small amount of oil in another fry pan and fry the tempeh to a nice reddish-brown crust. Add the tempeh, potatoes, and eggplant to the garlic mixture, stir to coat, and fry for a minute. Add the can of coconut milk. Simmer for about 5 minutes, then add the green beans and garlic shoots. Add the tomato at the last minute. Season with fish sauce and lime juice, and simmer for another 5-10 minutes, maybe more. Serve with rice. And beer. And extra limes for squeezing over. So, there it is. What i've been up to, aside from being crazy. Crazy about boys, crazy about work, living with crazy roommate, and going on from there.
Paul is here. Therefore i am cooking especially good. Today, i did very well. Fishy Fish Fillets of salmon or otherLimes (1/2 for each fillet) olive oil white wine (i use the wine that has been in the fridge for 2 months; it's fine) salt and peppa Salt and pepper the fish. Heat over a medium flame a bit of olive oil in a skillet big enough to fit the fish. Add the fish, skin down. Add a few splashes of white wine, enough so that there is some poaching action, and cover. Cook for a few minutes and turn the fillets over. Cook until done. This last bit is always tricky but i'm getting better at figuring out just where done is. Greens bunch of spinachfresh basil cilantro zuchinni, shredded/ grated garlic cloves, peeled and heavily bruised 1/2 onion, chunked small amount of jalapeno or serrano, finely diced small amount of finely diced red pepper Heat some olive oil in a large saute pan. Add the onions and garlic. Add the jalepenos and peppers. Saute until the onion is transluscent. Chop and shred the basil, spinach, and cilantro. Add the greens to the pan and saute until they are electric green and half their size. I also made mushrooms with shallots, garlic, rosemary, red wine, and butter. A lovely meal all around. Cravings, Weight-loss, Ratmob, and other insanities I've been craving corn chips, cheese, blue cheese, donuts, french fries and frosties from wendy's, and cauliflower. I know that because i'm riding my bike a lot more that i need to eat more and differently but i haven't found the balance yet. I look great though. For the first time in a long, long time i feel like i look as good as i feel, and by the reactions of my current collegues, it seems they agree. In fact, i think ratmob ought to put in an appearance at my work merely to discourage the boyz. Being blonde is pretty fun. Haven't talked to x in i don't know how long. It has ceased to matter. Well, i did get shit-faced on the night i took to be our one year anniversary but now it's done. And there are so many other things to think about: Ratt Mobb (new fellow), getting an island for the kitchen, cooking with substance with the neighbors, making icecream, biking further and harder and liking it, surviving, and trying to not get sick. The last is going to be the trickiest; i think i need to give up smoking for a while. So, what have i been eating and cooking? My pickled limes are pickling, my garden starts are starting, and the sun is shining. For breakfast i had a spinach salad with salt and pepper toasted almonds, blue cheese, tomatoes, scallion, a poached egg, and a rasberry-ish vinegarette. I want to make dinner for Ratmob soon...i wonder what he will like. Things that don't suck having money in my bank accounts having a little bit of a plan having a record label putting out 2-yes-2 records in two weeks getting into shows for free my new tattoo the people who work at the children's museum (not admin) sushi trader joe's for groceries my new fountain for my room feeling skinny having skin that doesn't resemble a disaffected 16 year old boy's not crying any more my dear friends who have held me and bought me drugs and alcohol and cigarettes and let me cry as much as i need to being asked to produce a theatre piece in my friend's space (probably won't actually do it, but the thought is nice) my bike my new sexy ass pantsThings that could be better Working for the fucking hippies again purely for economic reasons still not having enough $ in the bank account my gut reactions to any situations that tapeworm might be and the imagined scenarios where i tell him to fuck off and die, etc. Those can't be healthy but they are ever-present my unexplained irritation with my darling roommate my lack of a good (or even a mediocre) shag the weather is still too cold my current annoying sinus infection the museum administration breaking up being incredibly, mind-numbingly lonely being scared about the records and being a promoter/manager many of my friends are still alcoholics or becoming coke fiends I didn't get into law school. And i discovered that crying over the Tapeworm isn't the only thing that makes me puke. Bummer. Spring is here. Thank god. Things are looking up. I have 4 jobs, some new friends, and a sweet lover who only lives here part time. I haven't talked to christoph in almost a month. It's a very, very good thing. My show opens in a week so i took some time to make a big pan of lasagne. Alas, i over-used the chipotles and it is almost too hot to eat. I've reduced the chilis in this recipe. Spicy lasagne No-cook lasagne noodles 1/2 onion, diced 1 large can of diced tomatoes lots of fresh rosemary 1 jalepeno, seeded and sliced thinly 1 chipotle en adobo, sliced thinly 4 cloves of garlic, sliced thinly 1/4 cup olive oil 15 oz ricotta 1 egg 1 bunch of spinach, preferably with roots 1/2 lb mozarella cheese, gratedSaute the onions, garlic, and jalepeno in the warmed olive oil until the onions are translucent. Add the rosemary, tomatoes, and chipotle. Season to taste, maybe add a little bit of sugar. Simmer gently for an hour. Meanwhile, blanch the spinach in boiling water for 2 minutes, drain, and chop. Beat the egg into the ricotta, add the spinach, and season with salt and pepper. Preheat the oven to 375. When the sauce is done, spoon in enough sauce to cover the bottom of the oven-proof pan. Cover with a layer of noodles, then the ricotta mix, then the cheese. Repeat until you run out of room and top it all off with more cheese. Cover the pan with foil. Bake for about 40 minutes, or until everything is bubbly. Remove the foil for the last 5 minutes of baking. I feel bad. I hate everything. Christoph, my parents, my life, my job, everything. Everything is hard and miserable and it is all i can do to not break down at work. Break down and cry, break down and scream, break down and be carted off. At least there would be peace. I don't really hate my parents. They are just really stressing me out. I feel like such a failure. I cried more again. Big surprise. I wish i knew what the hell i was doing. I wish i didn't hate this nice job that isn't so bad really it just drives me up the fucking wall. I really, really wish i didn't hurt like hell. But i do. My mother freaked out about my driving. I got very, very cold and rude and impatient. That probably wasn't so ok but i'm full. Freaked out. I feel like someone is banging on my head and screaming about how i'm doing everything EVERYTHING wrong. I miss christoph so much i can taste it. And i can't do a damn thing about it. I dunno. I cried last night. Cried and puked and cried some more. Then i spent a really long time making a mix tape. It's a hell of a mix tape. Probably too much to listen to right now. I got really sad looking at hot sauce today. Fuck. Feel a little like puking again. Yesterday was hard. I miss him so, so much. I wish i could tell him that. Lately i've been obsessed with answering the question "did he really ever love me?" I don't know. I do know it doesn't matter at all whether he did or does or not. I don't know if we can be friends. Ever. I went out with D again on Tuesday. We had a good time, tinged with the ever present question "are we together?" and "what happens when the bar closes?". But it wasn't weird or akward, and i find his company to be uncomplicated and rewarding. I like how he smells, i like how he treats me, i like that he will never get close enough to hurt me. I like that he helps drive away the lonliness one more night. Tom, the bartender at the bog, had some interesting things to say on the subject of love, christoph, and related topics. It was really good talking to him. He kept telling me that i am so much better off. I know he was trying to help and there is probably a lot of truth in that statement. But that doesn't make me feel any better. I still hurt and feel horrible and like a bad person. I still don't understand why i wasn't enough woman. I still don't really believe that i will ever meet anyone as good. So yesterday christoph fixed my car. i drove him downtown with tears dripping out of my eyes and i couldn't look at him i could barely talk. I just wanted to grab his hand and say "i miss you oh god i miss you." But i didn't. I turned my head and when he got out of the car i just looked away and cried and cried and cried. Shit. I'm crying again. I have nothing to say to him. Except do you miss me and i miss you and did you ever love me. I don't know if we can be friends. I don't know if i will ever be able to see him again. I can't bear that. I mean, i am glad i have some relationship with becker, meager as it is. But i don't want another ex who is just barely in my life. I want a friend but i don't think i can ever talk to him again. Robert said that i need to be strong, that i am strong and not contact him in any way, maybe for months. I don't know if i can do that. Just the thought breaks me down. I'm getting tears all over his desk. Damn. I wish this would end. Drinking whiskey doesn't help. I forgot. I tried. I miss the BOG. The pirate bar just isn't as friendly. It's cool, but it's a little too cool. I don't think anyone spoke to me the entire night. I got steadily more drunk and was home by 9:30. I don't know how much more of this life i can take. Tears already and it's only 8:15. AM. This does not bode well. I don't want to go to work. Work is dumb. I just want to sleep for all time. Work doesn't keep me busy enough to forget my shit. Oh why won't this go away??? Feeling like shit again. That sucks. I have spent some good time lately though. A long talk with blunt that was just like old times, racing through topics faster than we could race through our respective substances we were abusing for the evening, seperated by about 2000 miles. It was really good. I miss her. Then talking with Pauling and declaring my everlasting love for the dear man, gay or no. Telling my friends to wait for the right love, no matter how long or lonely. Wish i could take my own advice. It's spring i guess. Suddenly everyone is getting some. I can't bear to think of stoff with another woman. I guess i won't. But of course i will. Fuck. Robert and i went to groundswell this morning for a few hours. We read and chatted and sean flora came in and i finally met him. We talked for a long time. He was super, super cool. As R and i are both hawks and spend way too much time together, he turned to me as we were leaving and said under his breath "he has a girlfriend." I laughed, knowing how he read my mind. I've been thinking about drive lately. Backbone. One of the things that most attracted me to stoff was that he was not living a hum-drum life, but going after something that he wanted. Even this mardi gras boy founded a company, sold it, and is starting on a new, totally different career. I find that irresistible. Plus, blunt and i were discussing the nice boy/bad boy dichotomy. I had to point out that nice boys, sweet boys, are no good for us. Of course we deserve to have men who are both nice and sweet, but their defining characteristics should also include bad-ass, fabulous, the ability to make us go "woof", and be willing to yell back. I don't want want to date a man who will let me walk all over him. I want someone to tell me if i have my head up my ass. Loudly if necessary. I have too much fire. Of course, that can go too far the other way. Look at Ryan and the bitch for pointers on how not to date a storm. Anyway, i wish i weren't sick. I'd like to be Out. Looking hot and feeling firey and strong and unstoppable. I'd like to pretend that stoff doesn't exist and distract myself far away from how fucking much i miss him every god damned second of my waking hours and frequently in my sleep. He said he is starting to feel a little bit less like a bad person. I don't know how i feel about that. The mean part of me wants him to suffer more and more because he fucked me up good and i don't want him to ever feel ok about that. I don't think i feel ok about him thinking about me without a huge twinge of guilt and wondering how good it could have been. Does he even realise what he gave up? Is the love of a good woman such a cheap commodity? Because i am a good woman. I wish i didn't want to call him every day. i wish... Essay on Cuddle Buddies for Ezra I've been thinking very hard about cuddle buddies on your behalf. Here are some of my conclusions: It can work between good friends with a high level of communication. It is ok as long as both parties know that it's a nice convience to be able to do this cuddly thing but if something "serious" comes along there will be no hard feelings when one person ends it. I have a few relationships like this that aren't sexual but are, well, physical and cuddly and warm. But we both know that we reserve the right to kick each other out of bed at any time and even to go home with someone else if the night turns out that way. I think that if you start adding emotion into the mix someone will get hurt. Because someone always wants more than someone else, or has very different ideas of what cuddle may mean. Or friendship or love for that matter. Is there a promise in a kiss? In a hug? How about when you hold hands-are you implying something? I wonder...I certainly don't know This is where i deemed it inappropriate for his virginal sensibilities and cut the rest. This has been prominent in my head as i am trying to be social again after a month's hiatus. (A month well spent either typing, crying, or sitting on my porch chain-smoking.) I am going out, going to parties and bars and pretending like the last 8 months never happened. With this attitude and lifestyle (although i drink WAY less now and have been accused of being responsible and even boring) comes the inevitable and dreaded interaction with boys. And boys, especially in bars, are rude and dumb and flattering and trouble. So now i'm officially single and people have heard. Appearently this is a topic of conversation. I suppose i'm flattered in an egocentric way. And all the boys that never had a chance with me pre-christoph think that they do now. Ha! Well, except for the one that i was seriously crushing on for a year. He got my phone number. And a kiss or two. Or more. But what would i do with a boy? Cuddle? Tell them i'm way too fucked up? In most social adult situations i find myself in, the simple words "you can come back to my house and have a beer" spoken shortly before last call directly translate into "if you come home with me we will have bad drunken sex and drive away the loneliness for one more night." Why can't a man just say "i dig you, let's meet sober sometime" and leave it at that? I am annoyed at the casual nature of so many people's relationships. Why would anyone think that just because they bought me beer i would want to go home with them, much less let them screw me? What is wrong with people??? This is why i wanted a Boyfriend in the first place. Have i learned nothing??? Oh christoph why did you push me away so i could end up back here? i would've loved you like no other. Fucker. Fat tuesday. I didn't earn beads. Well, i got some beads but i sure as hell didn't show my tits. Much to my companion's dismay. Late night at the BOG to celebrate. I worked about a million hours yesterday and drank away my worries after. I called Sarah and told her how much i missed her. It just isn't the same without a real cajun to get shitfaced with. And there was no King cake this year. On the other hand, there was an overflow of male attention of the sweetest sort and my mood has been noticably lifted by endorphins. Warm body and sleeping not alone really can do wonders for my mood. Robert said it's good to see me perky. I guess it is. Starting work is obviously the best thing in the world for me. It seems a little like things are looking up. I haven't cried in a couple of days. Maybe the waiting is over. I dunno. It seems i've managed to not get sick, so here's what i'm attributing it to. (It's amazing i'm not sick considering i have been at a bar nearly every night this week, and last night i stayed out until well past last call chainsmoking and downing the PBR.) Elicia's amazing echinacea-free kill anything Tonic 1 peppermint or lemon-ginger tea bag 3-4 pickled jalapeno slices, chopped finely 1 large clove of garlic, pressed 1 tsp honey 1/4 of a lemon, squeezed a few drops of habanero sauce 1-2 cups of boiling waterMix this all together and let it steep for a few minutes. Add the honey to taste. When it's cool, drink about 4 TBS of it (or as much as you can handle). Continue taking small doses for the next couple of days. Store in the fridge. I swear that if you can take this, it works. It's kept me healthy through 2 nutcrackers and numerous other highly stressfull alcohol and cigarette abusing situations. I think i'm getting sick. All that smoking...and hanging out at my friend dave's and cleaning and moving and sneezing for hours from the dust. Oh well. I guess i should buy some more jalapenos and get back on the lemon-ginger garlic jalapeno habanero sauce cocktail. ewww. I don't know if i am still able to handle that. It would be easier if i wasn't allergic to echinacea. I feel...relieved to be busy. The children's museum is a lovely distraction and frankly rather exhausting. All those plastic fruits... And Charlie starts Tuesday so my evenings are now officially gone. I just wish i got paid every week from them. Of course, those pay checks would amount to about 25.00 or something equally rediculous, but still it would be nice. Robert has decided to pay me money (or, money off my rent) in return for booking him. I am shocked and thrilled. Part of me is incredibly trepidatious about the whole situation. Mixing friendship and roommateship with money and buisness and dreams is scary. But he shoved desperately needed money in my hand and said "here you go." What was i to do? I think i will talk to him about expectations although i suppose we've already covered them. I guess i'm just nervous to commit to anything. Especially as he trusts me so much and believes that i can get them gigs. I suppose i probably can if it can be done at all. And the money will make a HUGE difference. But what if it goes sour? I guess we deal with that if it happens. I also feel an ache. A deep ache, a hole where christoph used to be. I suppose i will keep seeing things forever that remind me of how much he isn't my lover. I'm lonely. I want to be held. I want someone to wrap their arms around me and i want someone to cook for and i want kisses. I wonder if i'll know those things again. I've stopped with the hours of crying. But still. I wish... So i tied one on last night with kenny in our familiar way. I basked in the attention from the men at the bar-little J who has always been the most kissable boy i known (and he was either drunk enough to not care that last he heard i had a man, or he'd heard about my recent unpleasantness because he was, well, kissable), and john wray who just wants to make me happy, and steady kenny holding me as i fell drunkenly asleep. I guess i really needed some boy time. The bog was the bog, big J didn't charge me very much, and once kenny and i got through our usual 30 minutes of rediculous small talk and not really saying anything or being comfortable, we had a really good time. He and john were drinking sake as well as PBR and somehow john made more beer appear long after last call. We went back to their house and drank and smoked with jen until i don't know when. Somehow i stumbled upstairs and crawled into bed. Sleeping in bed with kenny never ceases to amuse me. While we are never sexual, we tend to cling to eachother as we fall asleep. He is solid and comforting, and so kind. I'm very lucky. Last night he and john reminded me that i'm always welcome to crash at the house. And if kenny comes home with a girl and finds me in his bed, he'll just boot my ass out and tell her i'm his sister. Now that's friendship. I hurt like hell this morning. It was so bad that i only ate about 5 bits of my greasy hangover breakfast at my father's place because the smoke was so thick and i wasn't sure i could hold it down. I crawled back into bed, took some codeine and drank an emergen-c and slept for a few more hours. I asked stoff to a movie tonight. I'm not really sure why. I don't like going to movies with other people, but this one seems like it would be better to have a buddy to gasp at it with. He said he had plans. This of course sent me on a total spin of imagining him in a variety of sexual positions all over the city with the entire liminal company, brian included. Plans. I know this is just a phase i have to get through. The imagining your ex having really great sex with everyone else in the world while you are out in the rain crying and being miserable phase. I remember this one. At least i probably won't find his new girlfriend's panties underneath the pillow like i did with becker oh so long ago. Since stoff doesn't appear to have a girlfriend. Or really be a panty sniffer either. I called jem last night in a fit of hysterical crying and she talked me down and through and made me giggle a lot. She gave me some advice about the crying-just to let it happen and pull over if i need to, and write a country song about it later. I was crying so hard on the 405, missed my exit i could barely drive, ended up on the terwilliger curves, lord lord that man sure has got some nerve. Or something. I wish more than anything that i could erase the last few months (especially the last 5 weeks) from my head. That i could just wake up one morning and not feel bad. Not cry. It took everything i had last night (inebriated) to not break when jen asked what happened. It took everything i had to not cry when i woke this morning from a dream about his mother. Will this shit ever go away? Will i ever meet anyone that i will love as much? It's hard to beleive i will. I feel so deluded. I really did think he was the man for me. The perfect fit. How could i have been so monumentally wrong? I really just need this fucking feeling to go away. I really need to stop crying. Crying everywhere. Before interview. After interview. Clenching my teeth so tight and hurting myself so i won't cry before first day on new job. Crying after job. In the car. On the train. On the highway. On my porch. Why won't it stop? And the puking came back again tonight too. Am i just torturing myself by talking to him? I feel so so so so bad. I GOT A JOB! Whoopee. I've already broken down twice. Before 11. This is gonna be a tough day. Is it even worth it to count? I am beginning to suspect that i am nothing more than a shell for tears to reside. I'm trying, dammit. Shouldn't that count for something???? I'm genuinely frightened of my own emotions now. I wish i could talk to someone. I wish i could...i don't know. Run. Make this hurt go away. Not wake up feeling totally empty and lonely. Making the bed makes me think about him. Taking a shower. Everything. What the fuck am i supposed to do? I cannot go around crying all the time anymore. I am running out of steam. I am falling down. I am fucked. I guess it's truly amazing just how shitty i can feel, and i still have all my limbs and friends and that sort of thing. But damn. What posible worth is this life right now? I'm trying really hard to listen to christoph, to make the gestures that will allow something brilliant to happen later but everything seems wrong. Instead of helping, i seem to be reversing any progress i've made. All i can think about is how much he isn't in love with me. Why why why??? I'm wonderful, dammit. Well, not right now. I'm a fucking mess. I have set boundaries on our conversations but it seems pointless. Whenever he opens his mouth, it's gonna hurt me. Whenever i see the fucking adverts for liminal anything it's gonna feel like a knife. Shit-whenever i go out of my house it's gonna hurt. What's the fucking point? How can he not be heartbroken over me? Didn't he love me??? Why can't i just let this go? I'm bored and cold and tired and out of books to read and i have no money with which to get out of my head. I am afraid to medicate too much but even more afraid to be alone with my thoughts. I wish i could run away. Really, really far where no one knows who the hell i am or cares. I wish i could go cry somewhere on a sunny beach and cry and cry and cry and get it all out (not that it will ever be all out) and get the fuck on with my life. I wish i could just stop crying. Part of me wants so much to be chipper and happy, even if i'm lying through my teeth. But i can't. I feel bad for my friends who really don't want to see me hurting any more, and for dear robert who does his best to cheer me up and make me laugh. I mean, i know i have to go through what i have to go through but i am tired of their comfort and pity and my one-track conversation. Oh, i know i'm not that bad and they will only push me forward and to forget when i need that, but i still feel bad. Robert heard me sob all night. These damn thin walls. I would so much rather he heard me make love. I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried myself awake. I cried before my interview. I bawled my eyes out after. Doesn't this ever end? He said he's not heartbroken over me. Fucker. Of course he's not. I'm the one who gave my heart. I'm the one that really doesn't have any idea how the fuck to go on. I'm going to go back to bed because i slept about 120 minutes all night. I feel horrible. Terrified and full of tears and sadness and totally out of control. WHY WON'T THIS FUCKING END?? Whirls. I just played my violin. After years and years of being away, my fingers akwardly held it, tuned it, and i wasn't as bad is i figured i would be. Moments of heavily medicated ok-ness. Will there be moments of not medicated ok-ness? Ever? Incredible sense memory of waking up at his house and going downstairs and cooking breakfast, little black radio by the stove playing npr, and a whole day ahead of kisses. Robert said it's not the memories that are bad, it is what i do with them. I suppose that is true. But they hurt rather badly. I'm torn. While talking to stoff this week was devastating, it also made me remember. God-it's been a month. How could this month have happened? What happened? How am i ever going to get control of my life again??? Why doesn't he love me? I mean-he does, but why doesn't he want to be with me? Same old sad sob story. I feel pretty horrible. I don't want anyone else (although my hormones would disagree) i just want him. And he has the gall to tell me he's heartbroken too, over the ice queen. Jerk. Why isn't there an expiration date on this horrible feeling inside me? It's becoming difficult to not puke. Ugggh. What a horrible dreary Boston day. Horrible and cold and windy and damp. I have absolutely no desire to do anything but crawl back into bed and read more badly written books. The first thing i did this morning was look out the window and decide that i need to take the edge off of my blues. Coffee and a cigarette and half and half seemed like the only possible enticement to leaving the room. Actually, i have things i ostensibly need to get done, but nothing that can't wait. Going outside seems like such a bad idea. I actually ate something this morning. In fact, i cooked. I ate asparagus (steamed then lightly sauteed with olive oil and garlic) with mushrooms and a soft boiled egg. It's not much but it's a start. It's almost noon and i haven't yet felt like puking. Maybe today won't suck. Another day. My hands are extremely cold from sitting outside and smoking with abandon. It would be nice to be able to sit inside and smoke and write, i have to admit. But the smoking inside thing is just too gross, so i'll do without. I spent a few hours at the coffee shop today with kenstar and timmy and AMY. Yes, the woman he left me for (in my twisted view) who i have avoided these many years was finally in front of me and in the time it took me to recognise her and get my shit together, i opened the door to the coffeeshop and walked in with a smile. It was good. Like nothing worse could probably happen to me today so i'm home free for the rest of the day. And indeed i had an ok day. And i got to spend a good amount of time with kenny who i've missed these few years. We talked about matters of the heart. It was lovely. I walked a fair amount, did laundry, hung out with Mo, ate a fish taco at la bonita (that being pretty much my meal for the day), put clean sheets on my bed, and was bored out of my mind. I barely puked. That's good. Right? Another day. It was almost sunny today when i woke up. Somehow i managed to pull myself out of bed and into the wide world of walking around in the park. There was this guy there with some sort of remote plane-but it was a glider mostly, all styrofoam and delicate. He was flying it in the soccer field. It made me very, very happy. I am getting ready to have kira over for dinner sometime this week. Tofu pot pie with scallion biscuit topping is what i'm planning on making. I made some salmon in a thai chili sauce a couple of days ago that was sort of a disaster, so i tried to ressurect it as salmon chili chowder. But i put too much salt (and potatoes, sugar, and lemon juice didn't help) and it was pretty gross. Oh well. I froze it but i have a feeling i'll just toss it. Plus, i didn't feel so swell afterwards either. Something i miss terribly: cooking for someone else. Having dinner with someone else. Or any meal, for that matter. I also miss someone cooking for me. Someone who understands about my bloodsugar and is willing to help me eat what i need. I've never been with anyone so caring before. Why did this happen? He is supposed to call later. Just when i'd given up and figured he was being all passive agressive and shit on me. I don't really have any idea what to say though. This hurt doesn't seem to be going away at all. Damn. Rain. More rain. So much rain. Unexpected phone calls from friends i haven't spoken to in months-darren and anna. Anna is getting married and moving to california. It was really good talking to them both, but anna, with her wisdom and intuitive knowledge of my heart helped. She reminded me about crying, and about how somedays you can't do good but you can try and keep from slipping too far backwards. Anyway, i feel like i've done nothing useful today but make soup that wasn't really that good and mope about on the internet. Well, i did go for a walk in the rain rain rain and forgot to change into my rain shoes, and came back wringing out my very knickers along with everything else. Cabin fever and lack of TV/ good books/ good news/ happiness is pretty much getting me the hell down. I wish i wasn't wondering why he hasn't called yet. I guess he's respecting my last wishes, but what if i change my mind? I am a yo-yo. Make the hours pass. Find balance. Bitch doesn't work. Friends don't work. Pretending he doesn't exsist and that i hate him doesn't work. I don't know what will. Searching. Make the hours pass. Eating glass. Medicate? Hyperventilate? Disassociate? Wait. Last night a bartender and a bouncer were on a mission to ensure that i did not walk upright out of the bar. Ha. I fooled them, and walked to the next bar. First night back at the bog but i was in a protective group of really attractive young college girls and the over-thirty creepy guys persuing them. I felt old. Especially when the creepy over-thirty SOUND GUY turned his attention to me. What is it with sound guys? And why oh why do they have to wear their hair that long??? Anyway, i closed down the bog, hung with joel for a minute or two, and started stumbling my way back to kira's. I would've been ok at that point if i hadn't decided to further medicate my emotion system, but i did. Suddenly gravity was much heavier towards the river and leaning away from it as much as i could, i staggered home. Luckily, kira had just returned from a multiple martini evening and was delighted to help me up the stairs and offer me water after a prolonged bout of puking. Friends like that are rare and good. It was weird to be back at the scene and watch the social interactions with a newly practiced eye. This girl who befriended me left a trail of confused looking men as she flitted and worked the room. When she eventually left with the cutest (in that oh-so-appealing dour indie rocker way)i asked if she had condoms and when she said no, slipped her one of mine. Duh. Don't leave home without the condoms. Anyway, a cheap exhausting night. Kira and i stumbled around about noon making coffee and pancakes, listening to hedwig and me reading recipes out loud. It was so familiar and comforting, really. But now, sober and still hungover and broken, i feel horrible again. I broke down and called christoph for some reason. Leaving a terse message on the voicemail, i asked him to call me back. Why? So i can be a bitch to him? So i can break down and cry some more? So i can apologise for being a bitch to him? I thought that the bitch routine might work, the rightous anger would make me feel better, stronger somehow. But it doesn't. Well, ok. It does but it also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, like i'm not being fair to him. But why should i be? He wasn't fair to me. But increasing the general level of misery in this world by being horrible, even to the lying bastard who took my heart and ran it over, is not something i want any part of. I guess a lot of me wants to make him feel horrible too. It doesn't seem right that not only do i get dumped and have to rearrange my life, i also have to feel horrible for weeks and puke and cry and wander in a fog trying not to break down when someone asks me how i am. Do you know how often that question is asked in daily life? Do you know how people react when i say "shitty, actually" with a big smile, and quickly ask how they are doing? There is a sort of fear in their eyes, wondering if i'm going to let the tears that are so obviously welling up in my eyes spill out, wondering if there is anything they can say that won't be trite and cliched. Eating glass. Trying to be a bitch. Trying to be ok. Trying to medicate, but not too much. Ryan has convinced me to go to a show tonight, but i don't think i can handle another night in a bar, feeling unattractive and old unless i am drunk, in which case everything is false anyway. And i am poor, and i can't drink unless i get free beer. I don't think i can pose with the rockers, flirt with the skinny emo boys, make small talk between songs and stand holding my beer and looking self-satisfied. Not to mention how ravaged my body is after prolonged puking and hypertensive emotion from about wednesday am on. And of course there is the chain smoking and the inability to eat well also going on. Fuck. Enough. To call ryan and somehow get out of this evening. Or to rev up my own engine and get back out there. Go to a show, meet some cute indie rocker, and pretend i'm twenty two. Yeah right. He is a lying bastard and no longer exsists for me. New mantra chanted on the way up and down the mountain. It is, i think, all i have to go on right now. Damn damn fuck shit damn. I am tired of being magnanamous. I am tired of being the strong, forgiving one. I am tired of accepting that he didn't mean to do it. He fucking hurt me unbelievably and can go to hell for his troubles. The Hardest Thing In The World or What i Need "Whatever you need" he said. What i need? What i need is for him to have told me sometime in MAY or JUNE that he was still in love with that ice queen bitch. What i need is for him to have been ballsy enough to care about my heart enough to be honest with me. So what i need? I need to no longer have anything to do with a man named christoph. He is done. Over. Nothing. Like my heart was in a paperbag and it got run over and the bag blows away. Gone. Done. What i deserve: 1. To be with someone who loves me as much as i love them. Who loves me in the same way. 2. To be with someone who will be honest with me from the beginning. 3. To be with someone who has some modicum of follow-through. 4. To be loved by someone as strong as i am. 5. To be loved by someone who tells me every day how beautiful i am, how fortunate he is to be with me, and who likes to pretend we're bunnies all the time in a dirty, good way. 6. To pretend, at least for a while, that christoph never exsisted. That he doesn't exsist. Thus, the hardest thing. I never wanted to think like this about him, but i think it will be the only way that i can get through. Last night after dropping him off at home and telling him to get out of the car and thus my life, i broke down. Hysterical, crying, screaming so loudly in the car that i hurt my own ears. I pulled over a few blocks down from him because i couldn't drive. I couldn't see or breathe or any of those things you need to be able to do. I pulled over and kept getting out to puke up the tiny amount of water and bile in my stomach. Back in the car, deep breath, and then puking again. As i stood on the sidewalk barely upright and trying not to hyperventilate this woman came out of her apartment. She asked if there was anything wrong. Did i need a hospital? Was i ok? Could she help? She convinced me to sit on the corner of 60th and burnside while she ran and got cigarettes. She sat with me and talked to me about broken hearts and strength. She had a good story and listened to mine. She hugged me and rocked me as i chain smoked and tried not to have a panic attack. It was very, very kind of her. My voice is raw from screaming and smoking. I seem to have this constant stream of tears running down my face and no appetite for anything, not even apple tamales. I want to curl up and hide until spring, until i can forget any of this ever happened. I know in a year's time i will look back and gently chide myself for getting so fucked up, but now i can barely see the next few minutes as a possibility to get through. AND I LOST A $16.00 tube of lipstick that i cannot afford to replace. Fuck. So, christoph is out of my life. That hurts rather unbearably. I'm a fool. An idiot of the highest degree. I read stoff's blog, and have somehow managed to revert right back to puking and crying and chainsmoking again. i don't think that we will be able to be friends. I am too, too angry. And hurt. So, so hurt. I should not, however, have called him at work hysterical. Bad taste on my part. I feel bad. NO MORE READING HIS BLOG!!! Freaked all the fuck out. It's cloudy today; i'm positive that has something to do with my mental state. And falling asleep to the BBC world service, and waking to NPR and then KBOO. That'll fuck up a girl. War seems imminent and North Korea will consider just about anything provocative. I don't know that i'm afraid for my life, per se, but i am afraid for lots of other's. A man was stopped at Gatewick today with a live hand grenade. What's next? On a more personal level, i am beginning to panic about tonight. I know i want to go through with seeing this opera, but it's gonna be kind of tough, i think. I miss christoph so, so much. Today the first thought in my head was the color of his bedsheets, and the way his skin looked on them. Not a great way to start the day. On the plus side, i reheated some of the brekkie tamales and made a pot of coffee and, well, they were pretty much the best thing i have EVER put into my mouth. Sweet but not cloying, crunchy and spicy and appley and with that wonderful masa flavour. I have much to do today. Well, mostly i have to obsess about what to wear. Oh well. 10:48pm...i have been cooking since 6:00. While i have cleaned the kitchen up from it's various disasters, i still have about 45 minutes of cooking left. Holy shit. Actually, HOT TAMALES!!! Indeed. I got a notion for tamales today, so i decided to make enough to last until the sun burns out. Or something. Making tamales is a very, very labor intensive process. It takes FOREVER, is very messy, and is pretty much the coolest thing in the whole world. I won't go into the many, many steps involved unless someone is dying to know how to do it, but i will detail the kinds of tamales that are currently steaming in the kitchen right now. 1) Savory: Green chard, steamed, then sauteed with sweet onion and garlic mixed with a healthy dose of a variety of roasted poblanos, anaheims, and jalepenos. Added to this lovely mix was a copious helping of queso posada, queso anejo, and regular old monterey jack. And shitloads of fresh cilantro. In the masa i added cumin and oregano. 2) Sweet: Grated apples sauteed in soy margarine and loaded up with garam masala. A layer of roasted and coarsely ground almonds and walnuts. In the masa was brown sugar, and canela (that's cinnamon). They are going to be a high protein shock to the breakfast system! The great thing about tamales is that i can freeze them, then pop them in the steamer and twenty minutes later have dinner. Good dinner too. I also was brave enough to listen to the first album in 69 love songs- a major coup. I will admit that i had to skip one song: let's pretend we're bunny rabbits. But i'm proud of myself. Dammit. Drinking a becks and contemplating having a cigarette while the tamales continue to steam, i wonder what the hell is next. The gaping hole is getting less, but the need to have my best friend back is rising. I just don't know if i can handle it. Breaking up is eating glass. Being rejected, being lied to, spending the better part of a year being in love with someone who is in love with a ghost really, really sucks. I don't want this to happen to me ever again. What every stage manager dreams of: walking into a production meeting where even though i am a good 15 years younger than everyone else, i am well and truly respected. So i had a glorious bike ride downtown this afternoon, accompanied by my friend Slater. He was on his way to the Other children's theatre-the bad one, so i convinced him to detour and meet the folks at the good one. We rode fast and hard and bitched about the local scene the entire way. It was lovely. After some good working time at the new office (and lots of hugs), i went to visit a friend that stoff introduced me to. He was an angel and a sweetheart, and said a couple of wise things. He also said he missed me and while that made me pretty sad it made me feel good too. I mean-friends are good. Even if they are painful reminders of heartbreak. Anyway, i rode back and ended up at La Sirenita, spending money that i didn't have on the yummiest, bestest chili relleno burrito with guacamole and an horchata sin hielo. The only problem is that for some reason by the time i actually get my food at Sirenita, i am so starved that i guzzle it and never enjoy the flavors. Oh well. The salt cured jalepenos are heaven. What a good ride. Now, i've just finished an hour's worth of quality trash tv time watching Buffy (oh buffy, oh spike, oooo) and drinking some truly gross wine, and althouh it's early i am thinking that i ought to be thinking about some quality time in bed, maybe crocheting some more. The crazy life of the newly single. Hmmm...am i ok today? I seem to be. Listening to Boot with the dial turned to 11, house to myself and a yummy breakfast of apples sauteed in soy margarine with garam masala and sesame seeds over waffles, and a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me to wake up to. Doesn't suck. Robert is so damn cool; he makes me coffee almost every day. Now there's a fantastic roommate. Last night i cooked again, and talked to stoff and didn't freak out. I am angry, very angry. He said he knows i'm going through a hard time in an incredibly patronizing voice, and i just wanted to yell "Yes and it's your fault! You could have been reticent 7 months ago and i'd be just fine now. You could have not led me to believe that you wanted a life with me, and maybe i wouldn't be eating glass now." But i didn't. I just grunted. But i didn't break down either. Anyway, i made zuchinni fritters last night for Robert and i, as i had an excess of zuchinni due to a Bridget Jones-like shopping escapade involving a cute shop assistant and, well, the inability to do anything but pay for the zuchinni in my hand. At least it was cheap and very, very plentiful. So here's the recipe, adapted from my dear ex Adrian Louis. Zuchinni Fritters Please know that because i adapted this recipe from the least specific cook in the world (except for maybe his mother) it is a bit vague. 2-3 zuchinni grated, with the water pressed out scallions, finely chopped, OR 1/2 onion also grated 1 egg, beaten grated cheese-cheddar or parmesean-enough to make them melty inside but not too much cilantro or parsely, finely chopped flour-again, enough to keep them together but not rock solid or gooey inside tapatio hot sauce salt pepper optional-cumin optional-garam masala optional-lime or lemon juice or zest olive oil and butter to pan fryMix everything together, adding flour until you get a batter consistency, but error on the side of too little flour and see how the first ones turn out. Heat the oil to a pretty warm temperature. It needs to be hot enough to form a crust on the outside but not so hot that the middle of the fritters don't get cooked. Add about 2 TBS batter to the pan for each fritter, and cook the hell out of them. Then turn over and cook some more. They should not be mushy on the inside, but not totally browned on the outside either. Anyway, i served them with yogurt and fresh squeezed drops of key lime juice, and they were super yummy. In fact, Robert and i pigged out happily while listening to NPR on a quiet evening to celebrate the pledge drive being over. So, cooking might be ok again. Later-hopeless, powerless, and mysteriously sick. Even the sun isn't warming me up and i can barely keep my shit together. The artist i was supposed to be modeling for didn't ever send me directions so there goes my afternoon and the money i desperately needed. I optimistically went to my mailbox to see if some final tax shit arrived so i can redo all the fucking forms and file baby file, but no. I'm not even sure what i'm waiting for except that i think one other company owes me a 1099 and the US gov't itself should send me something saying how much i overpaid last year. Unless my fuck up means that i didn't end up over paying anything. Fuck. This could be very, very ugly. 1000.00 in debt and totally unemployed! Whooee! No wonder i have an incredibly sick feeling in my stomach and a low-grade migraine that won't go away. No wonder i'm freaking out. My friends have uniformly decided that i need to Get Over It and while still providing me with hugs and support don't really have the patience for me to be sad. Good. They are right to force me to get my shit together. But i am slipping, here. I'm not holding on as tight as i need to and i don't know what the fuck to do. Smoke another cigarette? Yeah, and i can't warm up either. Call him and tell him to fuck off and die? No-that isn't really how i feel but then again it might feel good. No-i firmly beleive in not spreading misery. Crawl back in to bed and nap the rest of the afternoon? See a movie that i can't afford? That might actually be the best thing to do. Go to a movie, then come home and eat and knit and listen to selected shorts. Yeah. Distraction. No more feeling like i'm gonna die. I was trying to figure out if today is just a blood sugar thing-the depression despite the sun and long walk in the morning, the horrible feeling in my head and belly, the distance which i seem to be viewing all things today, but on reflection, i realize i've actually eaten 2 whole meals today. So it's all in my head and i have to get out of it. Whoopee. The shock of finding a note written in his blog last summer that i'd printed and taped into my scrapbook was brutal last night. It was an admonition to come home and be his omega. A description of a relationship that he wanted to try and create. Today the words keep going through my head and yet contained therein was an admission that he was still pining for the ice queen bitch but then he said he wanted me, he wanted me to come home and create a life with him and a love and to be his. No wonder i'm taking this badly-i beleived him. Mistake to put something in a scrap book from a relationship until at least 1 year after the relationship has ended, so you don't get nasty surprises like that. I realise this whole week i've been trying to do at least seventeen things at once to keep myself from breaking down and it's been working but not healing. Where is the balance? AND WHY THE FUCK DID HE LIE??? fuck fuck fuckI'm extremely angry today, and hurt. Robert reminded me that if you don't look back, you can't slide back. I must remember that. Bastard. Later on a sad sunday evening, I'm listening to OPB playing an outrageously good mix of short weird music, nursing a bitch of a headache, and reading a mix of political views posted by fellow alumnus. This weekend's emotive topic was anti-semitism, but has since diverged to a definition of Zionism, how the israili gov't can be compared to the nazis or not, and other such sweeping discussions. My head aches with unknown pains and all too well known cares. I'm reading a truly terribly over-written book that has as it's subject something so compelling i have to read the damn thing. It's about shakespeare, my one and only true love. Indeed today i have got some tears, and some puking going on again. I wish none of this had ever happened. Today it took (and is still taking) every ounce of will power to not break down and dial stoff's phone number. I've systematically called all my friends for reassurance, but it seems no one is actually home. I can't stomach a bar right now, and all in all i feel hopeless. Robert just breezed in a few minutes ago, glowing with triumph. He finished mastering the new album and as we took a quick trip to the ATM machine to sort out some monetary issues, he played my favorite song. "I don't know what i'm doing but i'll know when find it, i don't know where i'm goin' but i'm on my way. The sun in the valley is getting much higher, and i can't forget about it or stay... Well, something like that. It makes me feel so good to have this music in my life. Today i picked up my old violin books and sat in front of the piano, trying to meld the intuitive knowledge of how the song ought to sound with the akward keys and unfamiliar fingerings and barely remembered music theory. I mean, i can read music very fluently, but i'm not so good on sight reading for an instrument i don't really play. Oh well. I am getting excited to play robert some of my stuff, and learning how to jam. I think he will be excited by the joint abilites of country (i mean-old skool country where the fiddle sounds like a train coming over the mountain) and lots of concertos in D major and such. It would be good to consider myself a musician again. Playing violin was such a major part of my life and my upbringing. The notes are as familiar to me as a letter from kelly, and i am confident that while i will not ever attain the degree of virtuosity that i had when i was an adolescent, i could possibly play well. I have some bartok sheet music-gypsy dances- that i never really took the time to learn. Could be a nice way to spend time. Gawd-i wish i didn't feel like ass. It is the lingering migraine again. Is it not enough food? Well, probably. Too much alcohol overall? Certainly. Many, many cigarettes (although i've only had one today thus far) of course. Enough. Sadness can be cured by listening to Bridget Jones' diary read aloud and knitting furiously. By reading bad books and drinking copious amounts of pure filtered water-to get the sadness out. To get the sadness out. And maybe keep me from puking some more. AAARRGH! Yowza. What a day. After a particularly long day with my friend Trumbo, i returned home slightly hungover and with extremely low blood sugar. I ate, rented a movie, and was just settling down to sleep when ryan called. He was at a party about 4 blocks away, so i put on some clothes and biked down there. It was horrible. The people were snobs and idiots and looked desperate, somehow. I was too sober, and a little bitter too. I left shortly thereafter. Robert played on the radio and raged yesterday. I was so proud. And today, rwhy and i spent about 2 1/2 hours at My father's place, drinking shitty coffee and pretending to try and get work done. Then i came home and started working on my taxes. How horrible. The sad part is that all day i've been sad. I miss stoff so much i can't even beleive it, and i feel like shit not being able to talk to him. I don't know what to do. I know it's better to not talk. But somehow i want to get over this and be healthy. Oh, please let me not be sad anymore. Since i never wrote adequately about the Raclette at Margaret's Swiss fantasy cottage, or the traditional xmas eve fondue with lots and lots of kirsch at Ursula's, i feel i must give props to my friend Ilana for her dinner party last night. The menu was as follows: Carrot rice soup biscuits lentil and roasted beet salad with ricotta salata spinach souffle SOUFFLE!!! Brave, brave ilana. And she was cooking for a professional chef and food writer, and me! We sat around in the kitchen, 5 women discussing whether Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West ever got down, really, what marriage to them must have been like, and how we would all do DH Laurence, even if he was a prick. It was great. All of us had beet on our hands, a glass of flinty white wine (the complicated german name: gertzschweimmer or something) and we were talking non-stop. We were also the women of beautiful names: Elicia, Ilana, Margot, Jessamine, and Ivy. Between the beautiful gothic dining room and the deep shadows and flickering candlelight, we could have been some strange coven of sisters plotting the end of the world. Except that Steven and Jessamine's boy, nathaniel, were there too, and we were all taking turns playing with the border collie, which somewhat ruined the gothic bad-ass evil queen theme. But i had a great, great time. Holy hangover batman! Last night i was granted the unexpected pleasure of getting completely drunk and not having to worry about getting home. It was near bliss-or at least that is what a couple of shots of Jack and a few PBRs and an Oly felt like. Robert and June were playing at the Laurelthurst, and we snuck out to the Hungry Tiger so june and i could drink for real. I haven't hung out, really hung out, with Junebug in probably 2 years. He is one of the people here i've known the longest, and does seem in his weird june way to care very much about me. It's nice. Since Robert doesn't drink, he was happy to escort my drunken ass home. But whoooeee! I do hurt something fierce this morning. And afternoon. Today has been fairly productive although i seem to not have done any actual work that i meant to. I have some things to do for the children's theatre (foremost being to read the script and put together a book for myself) and also i really want to get my taxes in the fucking mail next week. I know i am capable of this. It's just SO HARD to sit inside when it is gorgeous out and my bike is calling loudly for me to come out and play. I bought a new tube for my back tire this morning and managed to take off the flat, change it, and put it on in under an hour. Last time i did this (in florida) it took me 3. I do learn...just slowly. But the sense of accomplishment is great. I then biked over to trader joe's to buy a nice bottle of wine (thank god they are so damn cheap!) for the dinner party i'm attending later, and tulips were on special, so now there are lovely just blooming red tulips in a mason jar in the kitchen. Such a nice day. Too bad all i can think about is stoff. I want more than anything to get him out of my head. I think that not seeing him is really, really good. I think that i may not be able to see him until i am well and truly done with being in love with him. That could be a while, i realise. And i don't want that. But it's so, so hard to think about looking at him and not kissing him. I was so much in love. My friend scott was shocked when i told him the news. In his brilliant scott way he somehow managed to be appalled, sympathetic, pissed on my behalf, and terribly sad for me all in about 3 words that i could barely understand. I love scott. We have a date to get drunk somewhere during happy hour tomorrow afternoon because we are both so damn poor. I'm looking forward to it. Now, off to nap because i have this party to attend tonight and still feel a little like god hates me and i should never, under any circumstances, drink again. Since i am bringing a bottle of lovely wine to the soiree, i really need to get out of that mindset. Funny how some thing: a guitar strum, a phrase in a book, some thing, can send me back over the edge. I don't know what it is, but all of a sudden i am choking back tears and wanting to crawl under my bed and never come out. Is it that i cooked something today, finally, using noah and robert as a shield and distraction as i chopped and sauted and made food? I don't know. I do know that the food doesn't want to stay down and the tears are threatening to burst-just when i thought i had gotten a grip? Is it always going to be like this? I know i cried over becker for some years, but then again we broke up three times, moved across the country together a couple of times, and were talking marriage. "I am so tired of crying over you" i wrote once. Years ago, now. I am so, so tired of not being ok. And now i want to be. But i don't know how. Line from 69 love songs today in my head inspired by kid at the coffee shop: I don't want to get over you....smoke clove cigarettes and read camus like i was seventeen but i don't want to get over you. BUT I DO! I MUST. I also would really like to keep my lunch. More sun! More Sun. Please more sun! I think the sun may be the only thing that gets me through. Again, getting out of bed, even in the sun was dreadful. Thinking about how i really wanted to go dancing tonight with my boyfriend at a club nearby where a friend is DJing tonight sounded like such a good evening. Except that i don't have a boyfriend. And i can't talk to him or handle being around him enough to invite him to join me anyway. Plus, Ryan would severly kick my ass. I wish NPR wasn't doing a fund drive right now. Now, i need continuity. I need my neil conan and terry gross and i want to be able to tell what time it is by the newscaster's voice. But no. Instead, it's annoying local announcers who never talk enough about local news anyway begging for money. Speaking of begging, i read a really good book yesterday. Called "Beg the question" by Bob Fingerman. He is a cartoonist with a history working for crummy porn cartoon magazines. This book basically details the relationship between this dorky comic book artist and his bisexual italian sweetie. The characters are amazing. And the relationship between the couple is about as realistic as any portrayal of love that i've ever seen. I was cringing and nearly crying throughout much of the book although it is funny as hell. The little fights that mean nothing but can spell doom if you let them, the ominous "not tonight honey", and that sort of thing. There was a moment where Sylvia, the girlie, is alternately clinging to her man and telling him that if she really loved him she'd break up with him so he wouldn't be with someone like her who was crazy and he could find real happiness. That twisted logic resonates, probably with just about anyone with ovaries. Another sad beautiful bit was the struggle for rob to marry sylvia, knowing that he didn't want kids and she does, someday. I've watched this struggle ensue between my two closest married friends, and it's brutal. They have nearly divorced over it twice in the past 7 (oh shit has it really been that long?) years. Anyway, i still haven't eaten because as i said, mornings are the worst. So i ought to do that, then bike down to the OCT offices and get a script and schedule and some loving from my mentor Stan. He'll be very disappointed in not being able to meet Stoff. He was so excited that i was with someone who made me glow. Oh well. He will, i am sure, understand. Some brightness in life, today. After a rousing lounge in bed in the sunshine, i made a lunch date with an old friend. We met up on 51st and Sandy at a resturant that was closed, so we biked down to a cafe called the Savory Tart. I had a mascarpone, gorgonzola, red onion marmalade tart with a yummy salad and a truly delectable double espresso. Darling and i bitched supreme about Peak experience. She worked for them some years ago. We have worked together numerous times and are very close in so many ways. It was wonderful to see her, to ride bikes around town and gossip and bitch. Together we are somehow going to change the way small companies try and fuck us over. Continuing in the sun, i started on my taxes and fixing my computer. My luck was minimal, but i think i may be able to pick up the scraps and work again. Thank goodness. I emailed Him today for help, and he was kind and responsive. And i didn't backslide. He is willing to give me time and space that i need. How much will i need? I don't know. I said that he was still my best friend, even if i can't actually bear talking to him for the moment. I am glad. Knowing he is still there gives me a cozy feeling. Not so much of a dead feeling, today. I am sad still, of course. But better. On the other hand, my body has had it. Enough, it says. Even if you aren't crying you still can't eat, and you still will feel like puking, AND now you will have the horrible not-eating migraines that somehow you've escaped. Ha! So there! Get over it! And i am glumly eating saltines and wishing i had enough $ for some gingerale. My friend rwhy ran out of gas today, so i had to visit a mutual friend at his motorcycle workshop job to get a gas can. All the gas cans at our house have appearantly been stolen in the last 48 hours. Great. So i met him at a sleazy strip club (where else do you go when you run out of gas) on 99 E, took him gas, and returned home. Finally, my friend the good doctor called out of the blue today. It was really, really lovely. He is a friend from florida, the asst. lighting designer, and a brilliant LD in his own right. He is also one of the kindest, most fun people i've ever met. He called to say thanks for the package i sent the other day detailing plans to take over the world, as that is his goal. We talked about the stupidity of dating, the difficulties of the opposite sex, our luck in at least being (mostly) straight, and the trauma that is inherent in dating stage managers. He had a bad run this past year, much in the way that i had a bad run of drummers once. It was lovely that he took the time to call while they were waiting for scenery to move. Waiting for scenery is a very common activity in the opera house, you see. Every one does it. Frequently. He made me jealous by narrarating his trip to europe and also to argentina, and iced the cake by describing what it's like to take the sailboat that the michigan crew has purchased. Ah, it is nice to have friends who unexpectedly are thinking of me from far away. Now, i am going back to reading this great graphic novel i picked up from the library, and trying not to be depressed because i left my tobacco at the strip joint. The tobacco that i couldn't really afford in the first place. Oh well. I wonder if i will ever feel ok again. Today's sun was good. Great, even. I kept a reasonable even keel most of the day. Went and crocheted me a headband to wear while biking. Biked to see my friend Maja (prounounced Maia) and didn't see her but saw Pyxz instead. (It's pronounced Pixie. They are complicated girls.) Held on. Watching Buffy gave me pleasure. Gossiping about it later with my friend Sarah was even better. Now the hard time is coming-getting into bed. The 3 worst times: waking up, showering (for some reason-i guess it's the total lack of distractions) and going to sleep. Going to sleep is, of course, the hardest. Ever. That's when i want a warm body-not just any warm body but...well. I had better not get to thinking about it or the whole saga will start again. I haven't puked in almost 8 hours. That's something, right? I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to get over him. I wish more than anything that i didn't have to, and i guess that is probably what is holding me back. Damn damn damn. I'm gonna try and sleep. When did chiligirl lose all her recipes and become tear-stained, pukey, and whiney? When does she get to come back? Probably when i can eat. And not puke. And when not everything reminds me of how much this isn't what i wanted. Fuck. Enough. JD Salinger here i come. 1. This sucks. 2. He is not going to come back. No matter how much i do and don't want him to. 3. I am doing the right thing by controlling how much i talk to him. Even if it is the most painful thing imaginable. Because i cannot continue to look at him and want him. The other night, looking across the table at him, all freshly shaved and with a jaw line that i just adore, it was easy to pretend even if i didn't mean to. Even if it was totally unconcious (which it was). Talking on the phone and he said sweet dreams and it was just like so many of our conversations when we were sleeping apart. A few minutes and a sweet good night, a promise to talk or write in the morning. A warmth that someone was thinking of me, and loving me, and thinking of me wrapped up in eachother. But it's not like that. It is best for now that i don't talk to him. It is best. It has to be best because i don't know what else to do. I am losing it to a new level and i have to stop. 4.This isn't the end of the world. Even if i am puking. Even if i can't get out of bed. Even if i am hysterical. Even if i feel like the whole world is crashing down on me. It's not the end of the world. 5. Somehow i am sure that he will still be my friend. It will have to be on my terms, probably. Somehow. Maybe not for a while. Maybe not until i find someone else, to be honest. I don't know. I have no idea how long it will take for me to let the dream of what i wanted more than anything to fade. I have to say that there is one thing that occured to me last night as i unsuccessfully tried to forget everything and watch movies and pretend that none of this ever happened. Here it is: not only do i have to go through the incredible pain of being rejected, not loved, broken hearted and miserably alone, i somehow have to find the strength to keep him at arm's length against every instinct and want that i have. That's not fair. Why do i have to be the strong one? I don't think i am strong any more. I don't care if it sounds like i'm whinging; i really don't think i am strong. I don't know if i can do this. Any of this. Eating, not puking, not chain-smoking, getting out of bed, not being hysterical. I am so tired. Great-this emotion has got my gag reflex in full force. I have to say that i am becoming a little frightened of my own body's reaction to my heart break. I figured this whole throwing up and bawling would go away in a day or even a few. And it seems, if anything, to be worse. But what can i do? "Hello Doctor, i can't seem to stop puking and crying. Yes, well, i'm unemployed, broke, and recently broken-hearted. Yes, it certainly seems to be a physical reaction to those circumstances. Yes, here's $ that i don't have for that advice. Thank you." I don't think so. I mean-it's gotta all be in my head. It's gotta go away. (Then again i'm sitting here somewhat calm and barely able to swallow afraid of what is going to come up. Is this what is going to happen every time i fall in love? Somehow i have to get through another week. Another day. Another hour or two without freaking or at least without destroying myself. And not talk to him. Even if it's what i want more than anything, i guess it really isn't going to help me. He's going away and i'm sad because, well, anything could happen at a cabin on a mountain, and whether it does or not, i won't be a part of it. I am no longer a part of his life. That is very, very depressing. Then again, what isn't right now? Shit. I should go do Something. Anything. Before i puke again. FUCK FUCK FUCK I can't eat. I am puking again. Great upheavals of every emotion i've ever had coming up in disgusting technicolor in the bushes, in the bathroom, on the side of a road somewhere. So maybe seeing him is as bad as not seeing him. Posted all over my room are firmly written notes: He isn't coming back. Time to move forward. Cut ties. He is not going to come back. It's not me. (That one was left over from when the gay guy dumped me-it just wasn't right for him, for some reason.) My friends have all said (when they aren't cursing him for making me go through this) that i shouldn't want to talk to him, that i shouldn't care. But they are wrong. But then again, this sucks too. Where is the middle ground? I don't know what to do. I don't know how to maintain. And my body is giving out. Shivering and puking and not eating is going to catch up to me, i know it. But nothing is working. Every time i try and think clearly (for example, now) i choke up and fall back down into this horrible dark pit. The pit consists of incredible loneliness. Terror. Being broke. I just spent the last of my money on 1 pack of jester (good for at least 2 weeks, even at my current chain smoking rate) and groceries. That maybe i'll be able to eat. I don't know. But if i eat it, it's 50/50 whether it'll stay down. And i hate wasting good food. I don't know what to do. Talk more to him? Cut him off? Run away again? (That's pretty much out of the question, actually.) How the hell do i do this? How much do i let him in? I wish everything weren't so damn black which ever way i look at it. Why am i letting him-no-this lack of us-send me this deep? Why does his choice get to affect me so incredibly deeply that i can't even keep my food down? I don't know. I let him in deep. I tried really hard to make us be a very big priority. I compromised a lot. I hoped. I gave so much. And...and. This. Trying not to fall down into total dispair. To maintain. To do Something, Anything with my day. Writing notes to myself. Crying everytime i take a minute. Being unemployed and generally worried and depressed, wow, there are a lot of minutes. FUCK FUCK FUCK It's day 6 and i guess i have had some peace for the next step in making all this ok. Last night i got drunk with a friend from the fucking hippie outfit. But see, he's ok because he is even more bitter than i am. Amazing, isn't it? Anyway, we drank and debriefed and bitched like nothing i've ever seen. It was good. So i am floating, wondering what the fuck to do with myself. I'm scared. I really, really want to talk to stoff and not freak out. I want to have my friend back more than anything. I want to trust him. Tomorrow i will call him and see if he is reading this. I feel a great sense of anticipation although i suppose i will probably be disappointed. I'll probably call and leave a plaintive message, and he'll call me back and it will be hard and akward. Oh well. It's what i need to do. I can't beleive how much i miss him. So many things this week made me want to email or talk to him-about the failed tax hike, and bush's state of the union, and all the things we always talk about. Shit-he doesn't even know Kori dumped Robert. I miss him. Can i do this? Can i be graceful? More than anything i want to be. Perhaps i just need to be clear with myself about when i can be, and leave when i start to break. Yes. Perhaps. Day 5 seems to be going ok. It's raining a serious rain today. A gray, fully wet miserable rain. So, i decided to field test my hiking boots that i really haven't worn in over a year. I found the wettest, muddiest, grossest, most rotten leaviest ground and went for a good stomp. I was nearly the only one in the park except for a flock of disturbingly large seagulls on the baseball diamond. I am not unfamiliar with beach fauna, but these gulls were ginormous. Actually frightening. It was raining so hard my glasses became instantly useless, and i've spent the last half hour walking outside not really being able to see much. Of course, it's very gray so you might think there isn't much to see. Ha. You'd be wrong. There are so many green things, and strangely enough, the camelias are blooming. Huge pale pink blossoms bright against a dripping jade hedge startled me. It's only January. Between that and Bush wanting to actually help poor black people (in africa, albeit), i think the world might be coming to an end. I still don't know what to do about anything, but i am trying for grace now. And i do seem to have stopped crying. That's a relief for everyone. Of course, tonight i'm slated to go get "hammered" with my friend eric. He was part of the fucking hippie job, and he and his girlfriend held my hand when we were in san francisco and were equally bitter and angry. Hooray! Should be good, maudlin, bitter, and fun. PBR forever! Finally found something i can listen to, and i feel so dumb for not remembering earlier: Nickel's worth of dreams-the album that quite possible could be considered my favorite Tom. At least on rainy heartbroken days. I CAN EAT!!! In fact, i actually have something on the stove. I think perhaps it was speaking to this strangely wise woman today who pretty much told me it's ok to feel however i want to feel, even if i want to feel like i really care about Stoff. That's ok. I don't have to hate him. He doesn't mean to hurt me. Yes, it's tragic. Yes, it hurts so much and i am empty and broken and extremely wary of ever trusting or being ok again. Yes, he should have figured this shit out BEFORE we got together and before we spent the most marvelous 8 months being together. But he didn't. He fucked up. He made a mistake, a miscalculation, a poor judgement call. Even if it completely breaks me, it doesn't mean he's an asshole. It doesn't mean he's not my best friend. I've been trying to reconcile this incredible hurt with my extremely profound love for this man, and i'm beginning to feel as if maybe i can. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but i think i can. So i'm cooking brussel sprouts (i know-they just sounded really good) with candied, curried pecans. I don't know how they are going to come out, but the kitchen smells good for the first time in a while. Maybe i'll be ok.
Having run away to seattle to clear my head, i am questioning everything. My dear friend Jem is putting me up, holding me when i get maudlin, and giving me some much needed perspective. I feel horribly disappointed, depressed, and broken, but no longer like i can't get through the day. She is helping me see the situation a little more clearly, and like most of my friends, is pointing out how i HAVE to take care of myself now. All the hard bits that i don't know if i'm strong enough to do, but i have to. Even if i feel like it is the end of the world. It isn't. I haven't been able to eat an entire meal for a few days now. It is somewhat worrisome, but right now Jem is making some lunch and i am actually hungry. This is a marked improvement. I didn't realise how much i wanted this to work out with that boy. At least now i've sort of figured out how to get through the hours.
Oh how i love Ramekins. Those weird little oven proof cups. All i ever dreamt of. And for xmas, my sweetie and i ended up with a total of sixteen of the little fuckers between us. And i am fully reaping the benefits. There are 3 guys done with band practice scarfing down tamale pie in ramekins (taste testers) in my kitchen. They seem pleased. So, here's the tamale pie recipe from my new favorite cookbook (with a lot more chilis and spices) : The El Paso Chili Company's Sizzlin' Suppers by W. Park Kerr. Usually i don't really like these kind of cookbooks, but this one is exceptional. There are so many good recipes in the book, and even the meaty ones are easily adaptable to the discriminating vegetarian. I cannot reccomend this book highly enough. And there aren't any pictures. Tamale Pie 2 TBS olive oil 1 onion, chopped 1 zucchini, cubed 1 lb button mushrooms, sliced 1/2 cup corn (frozen is fine) 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 tsp oregano 1 tsp cumin 1 tsp salt 1 can tomatoes, juices reserved, chopped 1/2 cup textured vegetable protein (optional) 1 can green chilis 2-3 dried red chilis 1 jalapeno, seeded and minced 2 cups cold water 1 cup yellow corn meal 1 cup sharp cheddar, gratedPreheat oven to 350. Lightly oil a baking dish. Soak the red chilis in boiling water for 10 minutes. Save the water. Add the textured vegetable protein to this chili water and let it soak for a few minutes. In a blender, add the soaked chilis, some onion, and the garlic. Also, add the tomato juices. Blend finely. If the mixture is incredibly hot, dilute it with water or tomatoes. In a small saucepan, heat a little oil, and add the sauce. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a skillet. Add the onions and cook until soft, then add the mushrooms. Cook for 2 minutes then add some of the sauce to the skillet along with the zucchini and tomatoes. Cook until soft. Add the rest of the sauce, the oregano and cumin, and corn. Finally, add the textured vegetable protein and green chilis. Season to taste. Remove from heat when most of the juices have cooked off. In a medium saucepan, heat the butter and cook the jalepeno until it's soft. Add one cup of water and bring to a boil. In a small bowl, whisk the cornmeal in the remaining cup of water until smooth. Add the cornmeal and 1/2 tsp salt to the water, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and stirring constantly, wait until it thickens. (This is how you make polenta too. It's pretty easy.) Whisk in 1/2 cup of cheese. Spread the hot cornmeal over the vegetable mix (that's in the pie pan) and cover that with cheese. Cook until it's bubbly and the cheese is melted, about 30 minutes. Holy shit. It's 2003, somehow, and I survived the most horrible job in the world. It made working at Oregon Ballet Theatre look like a dream, a breeze, and a well paying job. But i'm back in the ranks of the gloriously unemployed, and i got a lot of cooking stuff for xmas, so i hereby vow to write often and much. Black beans and roasted salsa 2 cans rinsed black beans (i know it's cheating) 2-3 chilis chipotles en adobo, finely sliced 2 TBS cumin 2 TBS olive oil assortment of chilis and peppers cilantro lime avocado, sliced mild cheese, shredded (optional) sour cream (optional) tortillas or corn chips to serveHeat the beans with the chilis chipotles over medium heat, tasting to achieve the right spiciness. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a small skillet. Add the cumin when it is fairly hot, and toast the cumin seeds about 20 seconds. Add to the beans and mix well. Shred a mild cheese over the whole thing and put it under the broiler for a few minutes if you want. Heat the broiler. Wash all the chilis well and dry them very, very well. Lightly grease a cookie sheet or something similar, and spread the chilis out. Put very near the heat in the oven, and watch closely. They should start to blacken soon. Turn them repeatedly until all the skin is black and hot and smells really good. Remove from the oven and put in a paper bag, or a bowl with a towel over it. Let them sit for a few minutes. When they've cooled a bit, peel the blackened skins carefully and determine how spicy you want the upcoming salsa to be. Save the seeds from the chilis and add for more spice. Dice the flesh. Chop the cilantro, squeeze the lime juice, and add the chilis in a non-reactive bowl. Add avocado slices if you like. Slice more chipotles and add to the optional sour cream and serve on the side. Finally, heat the tortillas in the already warmed oven, pull out the beans, and serve with sour cream and roasted salsa and be very, very happy. I know, i've been totally lax in keeping this up. But i am feeling pretty horrible and stressed right now, so please forgive me. I really haven't been cooking much either, unfortunately. Tonight i am attempting an eggplant/tuna sauce over penne though, with black olives and capers. Yum! Tomorrow i take the LSATs and i am terrified, honestly. That's all. Thanksgiving was successful! And, i seemed to do ok meeting my boyfriend's mom. The rest of the weekend wasn't so good. There were some moments, and then there were some moments. I don't have any recipes for today; i just don't feel like cooking although i suspect that it may help my sanity a little, but i can't face the grocery store tonight. I threw some pinto beans and some roasted dried chilis in a pan, and the whole house smells like the roasted chilis and i am looking forward to the big pot of spicy beans for lunch tomorrow, and i'll probably freeze some for later too. Things are getting hectic here-2 jobs, my LSATS on Saturday, a beach vacation (just one night, and another at his mom's, but still), advising someone on my old job, roommate home again, maintaining a relationship, finalizing my admissions packet for law school, and writing the god damn essay for said packet. Which is not going well. I am a little stressed. And it was only a month ago that i was concerned about being bored. Silly, silly me. SOUP!!! Soup is a really good excuse to have a party. Also, it's made for sharing. And eating in big steamy bowls in front of a fire on a chill fall evening. This weekend, i ate and cooked and ate and cooked. Stoff also cooked and ate and cooked and ate. It was lovely. Our meals included Muttar paneer, cauliflower fritters, seared ahi tuna with steamed fresh veggies, waffles and applesauce, and soup. For the soup party, we made veggie french onion (because we had a really dark, deep, flavourful stock), sweet potato cheese, and cream of mushroom. People brought bread and salad and salami, and we all stuffed ourselves. Some mistakes were made: we decided to forgo making croutons for the french onion soup; this resulted in soggy bread with soup spooned around it and a gruyere broiled topping. Don't get me wrong. It was delicious. But i think we figured out how to make it better for next time. I also let it carmelize a little much during the first hour of cooking which resulted in a bit of stress for a while. Luckily, it turned out really, really well. We made that soup on Saturday because we only have 2 stockpots, and we had to ask a guest to bring one to reheat it. The other big mistake that i made was a stupid one; i just wasn't paying attention. (My attention was on our first guest who happens to be a woman who used to be very interested in dear Xstoff, and i felt a little ackward being all domestic in his kitchen and being the one that he chose-silly, i know) I let the cream of mushroom soup boil. Now, that shouldn't have been a problem. Even with lots of dairy, it was roux based, meaning that there was already flour in the soup. There was no reason for it to curdle, even if i added lemon juice to bring out some bite. So i did, then accidently let it boil, and voila! Cottage cheese! I mean, it still tasted spectacular, but the texture was NOT ok. Oh well. Lesson learned. Cream of Mushroom Soup-Master Recipe 2 qts mushrooms 1 medium onion 6 or 7 cloves of garlic 4 TBS butter 4 TBS flour 1 cup warm stock or milk 2 TBS dried tarragon, or 1/4 cup fresh 6 cups milk cream, creme fraiche, or sour cream (optional) lemon juice (optional) Seperate all the nice mushrooms from the bunch (hopefully, 5 or 6). Remove the stems from these, slice neatly, and set aside. Take the stems, and all the not-as-nice ones and chop them into little bits. Dice the onion. Cut the garlic into chunks. Add the 4 TBS butter to the stock pot, and melt over a medium flame. When it's melted, add the onions and garlic. After about 4 minutes, add the mushroom bits. Stir occasionally, and reduce heat somewhat. Cook for about 15 minutes. Your kitchen should be beautifully fragrant. The onions should be translucent, the mushrooms reduced. Now comes the hard part: Set out a spoon, the flour, a whisk, and the warm stock. Add a few sprinkles of flour at a time, and mix well. Keep adding the flour and mixing until it is nice and thick and well blended. Scrape the bottom and sides. Cook, stirring, for a couple of minutes. There should be a thick mass at the bottom of the pan. This is a roux. Slowly add, whisking well, the warm stock. Whisk really well. Get it all incorporated and cook a minute or two more. Now add the 6 cups of hot milk, stirring constantly. Add the mushroom slices and tarragon at this time. Now simmer for about 20 minutes. Taste for seasonings (you'll probably want lots of salt and a good amount of fresh pepper), add the optional cream, and be CAREFUL with the lemon juice. Don't let it come to a boil after adding lemon juice. Today, i feel a little crummy. Not so much hungover, just blah. I'm the only one in the office, and i feel like i could've spent at least another hour sitting at my kitchen table writing, or, better yet, cleaning the house for my roommate's return. He's been gone for about 8 weeks, and i'm excited to have him home. I'm glad i cleaned the shit out of the place (we are talking hands and knees here) a couple of weeks ago. Since my house will never truly be clean, i have to let go. Anyway, today i want to talk about stock. A few months ago, i got really fed up with smarmy cookbook authors (especially the kind that contribute to food and wine magazine) saying that their quickie recipe only takes minutes because they always have broth in the freezer. The general attitude of having enough tupperware, a huge freezer, a great stockpot, and time and $ to make stock just got on my nerves. And all the recipes for stock actually measure stuff: 3 carrots, 2 bunches of thyme, etc. Then there is the Molly Katzen (Enchanted Broccoli Forest, Moosewood) method, but her recipes kind of suck anyway. She says to just throw it all in. Everything. But that isn't exactly right, although it's closer. I prefer my method. It works, it's cheap, it's yummy, and there seems to be room for it in my freezer. The only special thing you need are a few salsa and yogurt containers. Or, plastic bags. But you'll need the tupperware or yogurt containers in the long run anyway. Elicia's Sooper Stock this is a good way to spend a quiet evening with a book, but the ingredients can be gathered leisurely throughout the weeksAs you squish garlic, trim onions, chop the bottom bits off mushrooms, stem chard and spinach, and do whatever it is that you do to vegetables to prep them, put the bits aside. Save it all. Everything that isn't rotten or covered in dirt is fair game. Chop up the bits into medium sized, the best to fit into your tupperware and salsa containers, and FREEZE them. Into the old freezer they go, and then keep adding, until you hit Critical Mass. Then it's time to cook! Put all your trimmings, etc. into a stock pot. Cover everything with water, a few inches above the level of the vegetables. Slowly bring to a soft simmer. Go away. Visit occasionally, making sure it isn't boiling too hard. Let it be for a couple of hours. After about 2 hours, check it again. Does it smell good? Good. Take some cheesecloth or a strainer, and situate it so you can pour the stock into your freezer containers and catch all the lumpy bits. Pour. Freeze. Some people even freeze into ice cube trays, and then take the frozen cubes out and put them in freezer bags. Now you have soup stock! Things to save- just some ideas
Last night was a simple lentil night, with cheater's rice pilaf (from a box, too much salt) and a bottle of lovely red wine with my loveliest of all boyfriends. Then we went to a punk rock bar and drank a lot of beer. Lots and lots. My head is reminding me of that at the moment. Anyway, here's the lentil recipe, courtesy of Madhur Jaffrey, my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE cookbook author. And a damn fine actress too-her recent portrayal of an Indian mother in New Jersey was astounding! Lentils and Spinach serves 2 with leftovers, takes about 45 minutes plus spinach cleaning time
1-2 lbs of spinach In a medium saucepan, heat the oil. When it is warming, add the onion and garlic and cook until the onion is translucent and smells good. Don't let it brown. When they are all soft and gushy and smell really, really good, add the lentils and 3-4 cups of water. Let simmer for 25 minutes. Meanwhile, rinse the spinach really well, and chop it. Save the roots if they aren't too gross; they taste delicious when cooked in. When the lentils are tender, add the salt, cumin, and spinach. Simmer for another 10 minutes, until the spinach is tender too. Serve in soupy bowls with the pepper ground over the top, and lemon wedges. Don't forget the lemon wedges. Last night i did something fantastic with spinach. Now, i'm really not a fan of cooked spinach, but i saw some at Nature's, with roasted sesame seeds and ginger, and i had some older leaves at home, and i thought it'd go so well with salmon. The salmon was ok, but not at all what i wanted to make. Maybe next time i need to read the recipe before i make the marinade. Hmmm. There's a revolutionary idea. Wilted Yummy Spinach serves about 2, but easy to double; takes about 30 minutes.
Heat the oil in a large skillet. Add the ginger and garlic, and cook over med-low flame for about 6 minutes, just as the ginger begins to brown. Add a couple of handsful of spinach and stir. As they begin to wilt, add more spinach, a bit at a time, and stir some more. When all the spinach has been added, splash with a little bit of tarmari. Cook for about 5 more minutes. Gently mix in the roasted sesame seeds before serving. And for my happy alcoholic wintery ways, here's the recipe for kalua. By the way, one year when i was a tiny child, my mother made lots of kalua and bottled it in weird alternative soda bottles. I poured myself a cup, not knowing, and slept like a baby. I think that was probably my first drink. I think mom felt guilty, but it wasn't her fault. Jane's Kaluaone 5th Vodka 3 cups sugar 12 tsp instant coffee 4 cups water smidges of nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves 4 tsp vanilla Bring the sugar,water, and coffee to a boil. Add spices if you want to. Lower heat and simmer for one hour, until it's reduced to a syrup. Remove from the heat, and let cool. Add to the vodka, and add the vanilla. Let sit for a few days, the longer the better. My cooking journal. Here goes: Tonight is Buffy night. That means i get some solid television time, one full hour of doing nothing useful at all. There will probably be a cheap bottle of wine involved, or maybe i'll make some kaluha. I'll put that recipe up here when i get home. Last night, i ate: Yummy Garbanzos serves about 2, takes about 15 minutes to prep, 25 to cook 1 can of garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed Preheat oven to 425. Bring a large pan of water to boil. Remove the tough spine from the chard and rinse well. When the water is boiling, add the chard and blanch for about 5 minutes. Drain. Slice into smallish chunks. (Save the water in tupperware in the freezer for good instant veggie broth.) Mix the beans, scallions, garlic, dill, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Add the chard. Mix it all well. Put the melange into an oven-proof casserole. Dot with the feta. Bake at 425 for about 25 minutes with a cover, and if you want, remove the cover and bake for 5 more minutes. Eat well. |
