"When work is a pleasure, life is a joy! When work is a duty, life is slavery." -- Maxim Gorky
And so on. It's late, I'm tired, and yet here I sit, about to blog. No wait, I'm blogging already. See? I can't even keep track of myself. Today was a lovely little getaway from this town I call home.
Up to Los Angeles, wonderful conversation on the way there, we got all philosophical and shit, M.s. played Mr. Therapist to my endless, self-directed questions. On the way, we checked out Ollie's pad with all it's new fixin's (SWEET). In L.A., we lunched with my darling friend Brian at a fun place on Melrose.
Bet you're wondering about those questions I mentioned. Here's one -- why is it that people, after reading my words, written by me, about how I feel, still don't get what I'm saying? Am I THAT inarticulate? THAT ineffective? Or are they really THAT dense?
Obviously, my vote is for the latter. But this is neither here nor there. From now on, I will just have to be even more literal, if you get what I'm saying, and that second half of the sentence is obviously a joke, for those of you who do not, in fact, get what I'm saying.
I forgot to mention what a WONDERFUL time we had last night with my cousins over. Sharing a glass of sweet, sparkling Moscato D'asti on the terrace, watching the sun set, migrating to the living room where M.s. had set the lighting low and prepared some cheese-related treats and a sweet red to complement them. But more than all of that, was the company -- my cousins are HILARIOUS and my cheeks hurt all night from the marathon laughter.
Now, where were we? Ugh, I just remembered, let's just drop that for now and come back to it when I'm not so sleepy. Stupid people tire me out. At Toi tonight (restaurant on Sunset Blvd. where we just had dinner), M.s. spotted the sentence, "Life would be better if stupid hurt" written on the bathroom wall. God, wouldn't it ever. Unfortunately, a lot of people would be walking around in pain, but at least they'd be too distracted to bother me with their stupid bullshit or, even worse, bother me with their speculations that I might actually give a damn about any of their stupid drama (except, of course, for the entertaining kind, we all need a little escape into the soap opera of someone else's fucked-up life).
And here I am. The funny thing? I'm in a great mood. I had a great day with a great man and I've already got a great idea for my next column (which will take a swing at stupidity itself), and I'm about to crawl into a very comfortable bed with that same great man and sleep soundly. Sometimes, I don't feel like putting forth the energy to pretty things up. Sometimes, I just want to say things as I think them, exactly as they enter my head. Uncivilized? Probably. Cathartic? Definitely.
Sometimes, I need to not worry about the growing number of people who don't like me, I need to not be untrue to myself in order to make anyone like me or keep people liking me, and I need to remember that the only thing that matters in this world is that I like myself -- whatever that may mean.