“You must go outside; it’s gorgeous out.” Smelly tells me over the phone. Please, she’s paying Mohammad for the ride and heading to the salon to sit under a lamp. Don’t go talking to me as if I’ve never seen bark. I just don’t get this. I never have. The obligation we feel to be outdoors in good weather. I enjoy thunderstorms. That’s when the action happens. Happy weather bores me.
It’s going to be gorgeous this entire summer, why do I have to start enjoying it now? I’d prefer to write in book stores , having a productive day, over sitting on grass and watching people enjoy the resplendent weather. It just doesn’t do it for me. Boats do it for me. The water does it for me. Central park is hellacious.
Tonight I’m going to Strip House with a reformed fat-camp champ to eat creamed spinach in a room that looks like the inside of a vagina. I’m wearing a Michael Kors blue and white striped halter top that ties with nautical rope. I look like I’ve spent the day on a yacht, not in a red chair typing until I made myself laugh. I’ll drink red wine, eat red meat, and not give a shite that the bridge of my nose will turn scarlet. Then I’m off to kick it with my chiclets for Samantha’s birthday party. It seems every single weekend of my life for the past two years has consisted of a birthday, engagement, welcome back to town, or bon voyage bash. My inbox always finds room to house an evite. Normally, I’d complain about wanting a weekend without obligations, but that’s crap. I love that I’ve become part of invitation lists. It’s why I always bring my camera, even if the faces and poses are always the same. I love capturing the moments, making memories with my new friends, in my new unmarried life.
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You are a terrific writing buddy. Today I cried, you laughed, and then we laughed. When I hear you laughing when typing, I tried to ignore it but then I just had to know…so you read me the passage and I cracked up too.
listening to you read, I get inspired to write better…in my word choice, in my cadence. I don't envy your work because you own it. It is so clearly yours. I just enjoy hearing it because it helps make me a better writer. And I really enjoy the complete lack of competition and total support.
One of these days, you'll have to grab me and force me to join you on one of your girl's nights out…although I will probably resist and need some handholding to make the scene.
I have the clothes. I just don't have the groove on. Barbara gets her groove on? Does it sound as good as Stella? I'll take her storyline with the younger good looking steamy man.
I love the pics. I like to take pics when I am out too. I just need to get more. I could never carry around a big camera like you do though.
Urbanista
I love that you and Barbara are portrayed here together. I read your blog, then found hers, wrote to her, and received the encouragement to write myself. Strange are the working of the world…
I feel the same way about summer, I have to have a good reason to go out. I'm not just going to wile away the day sitting on a blanket, being bug-food. Plus, unless I cover myself in pure zinc, the sun will kill me. Also, I sweat easy, and at 6'2" 220 lbs (all abs) I have a lot of surface area to cool and I don't like duck-butter. Summer evenings, however, I do like, always great for walks and outdoor cafes/beer gardesns.