When I arrived Friday night (late, again) to meet a friend, I was already out of sorts. I’d broken a shoe. But that really had nothing to do with anything. I was just feeling cross. He could tell (I was wearing my foul mood like a gaudy lapel pin) and by the time dinner rolled around, conversation had shifted from careless bar chatter to serious matters. Heavy things passed between us over the table in an LES Eurotrash establishment. I lost my temper. He lost his. We’ve rarely exchanged harsh words with one another, much less said things that needed much apologizing for. But Friday night took sorries over email and then again over the phone, to make sure they were levied thoroughly.
After Friday evening, I left my apartment only once -- to have lunch with The Kate at our Union Square rendezvous spot. Had she not insisted, perhaps I’d not have left at all. She knew I needed it. I don’t know why, but I tell Kate things I’m too embarrassed to tell most folks. I cry on the phone to her when I’m drunk and sorry, and I let her buy me lunch when I’ve managed my money poorly and am on the brink of yet another two-week poverty. Kate is never allowed to break up with me. Ever.
The remainder of the weekend was taken up by sorting out the current family drama (it’s a doozy!) and sleeping -- dreaming strange, frightening dreams about being sucked into a bottomless lake. I’d say there’s something symbolic to that, but there were aliens involved, and that’s just too X-files to be meaningful. The South Africans we met in Spain made several guest appearances, so I spent this morning emailing to make sure they had not, indeed, been sucked into a lake by alien tubes.
When I got home from Morocco, I swore these feet would remain planted for the foreseeable future. I was exhausted. But last week, Mom insisted I join the family for Thanksgiving (which I have not done since I was 17 ) and so off I go to Los Angeles on Wednesday. I’m fairly sure I’ve never needed Disneyland more than I do now, so I can put up with a bit o’ smog and more plane time for some tide pool adventures with my sibs and a turkey I don’t have to stuff.
Incidentally, going to California always puts Joni Mitchell in my head. And I gotta ask: What is a sunset pig?
...and what about California could make one want to kiss one? I've always wondered about that, too.
Posted by: seastreet at November 22, 2004 12:48 PMfish, my darling, i'd never break up with you. unless you cheated on me, you damn dirty bitch.
Posted by: kate at November 22, 2004 01:08 PMI love that you used the word "cross" as an adjective.
Posted by: New Blue Shoe at November 22, 2004 01:32 PMI'd always assumed that a "sunset pig" was a police officer on sunset blvd.
Posted by: Jason at November 22, 2004 01:59 PMJason and Fish, apparently that's what Joni Mitchell meant. I know that because she whispered it to me in a dream.
Posted by: Robotnik at November 22, 2004 02:09 PMDear Ms. H.:
Do you have an email address for, e.g., fellow writers with career questions? Don't fear -- I am not looking for a Career FixPerson!! Just some simple dadaInfo plus one more RGW's (Really Good Writer) singular perspective. Thanks in advance for any way to connect (snail mail, whatever) plus a thanks for doing what you do...really well. No small deal.
Happy Thanksgiving. It's such a lovely American holiday that I've come to enjoy.
I guess mashed potatoes and gravy pleases everyone no matter where they're from!
Posted by: Muffy Wong at November 22, 2004 03:48 PMBuy Travelogue by Joni
Proof that cigarettes can help improve your jazz voice.
She is a poet and if your in a funk she will keep you there.
Happy CA T day.
Everyone is correct about sunset pig.
You remind me of her line.
Proud and angry me.
Posted by: b at November 22, 2004 04:10 PMSoak up plenty of sun in california if you can for me please? The gloom and rain where I am is sapping my ability to be chipper. Also come back with good stories. I spent many years avoiding Thanksgiving and other family get togethers. In some ways things were better than I remembered. In other ways not. One thing I know, family melodrama seems completely unavoidable.
Posted by: Joe at November 22, 2004 04:15 PMlos angeles? oh we MUST meet and kiss pigs together.
Posted by: julia at November 22, 2004 06:08 PMHow is it no matter how old we get our parents can command (or guilt, or manipulate)us into an appearance over Thanksgiving? My mother made the comment the other night about how I'm free to do whatever I'd like for the holidays. When I commented on the sarcastic undercurrent in her voice, she just laughed. Argh. I will be in LA as well. I don't know about you, but I'll be up for drinks on Friday night.
Posted by: Jen at November 22, 2004 07:40 PMGo see "what the bleep do we know"
This will explain everything!!
If you think your going to have a bad time...You will.
Go there with a smile, and look out.
Damn, and I'm fleeing L.A. for Thanksgiving with my parents in lovely Arizona... otherwise, I'd take you to Sunset to show you some of the legendary Sunset pigs -- the Sunset Strip used to be a hotbed of hippies back in the '60s and '70s, and they assigned police there to keep the "radical element" in line. Now, they keep a few extra cops there to make sure no one gets out of hand and no one violates the "no cruising" law.
Posted by: Keith at November 22, 2004 11:04 PMA "sunset pig" is a police officer on Sunset Blvd. (cops were called pigs in the 70s)
Posted by: Katherine at November 22, 2004 11:09 PMYou're all wrong about the sunset pig. I happen to own one and they are most adorable.
Posted by: M at November 23, 2004 12:13 AMI wasn't aware people stopped calling police "pigs" after the 70s. Seeing as how I knew the term, and I was born in '86.
Anywho, have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Fishy! Hopefully seeing the fam will be sweet for both of us. :)
Posted by: lauren at November 23, 2004 02:51 AMFISH! you'll be in my town!!! if you need to escape, just call me or email me, and i'll come rescue you!
Posted by: sassylittlepunkin at November 23, 2004 10:06 AM