December 23, 2003

• Hey, my house dream sort of came true; I'm staying at Chelle's for Xmas, in one of their beamed and vaulted attic rooms with diamond-paned windows.   The glass was special order from Italy.   Tinted a subtle emerald, it enhances the rich verdant grounds, the long estate drive through the park, like being in an enchanted forest or London's West End.

  
  

  Just the right atmosphere for being sick and depressed.   Yeah, I'm a bit under the weather.  Me.    Nothing to do but make like Katester, hide beneath the silk down comforter, order a silver tray of fragrant jasmine tea and thick sweet Marias biscuits for the nightstand, and cry.  Oh, why?   First of all, I've been plagued by killer headaches ever since the weather changed.   I've another one right now, acquired from driving around downtown all day yesterday in the rain looking for a parking space after Chelle's older sister Felicia spilt a whole bottle of Giorgio cologne on the back seat and we couldn't so much as crack a window open for air.  We were trying to give Neiman-Marcus one last hit before the big rush, and just couldn't get in.   We ended up lunching at a dreary cafe crammed with shopping bags and smokers in their winter coats.   On the way back to the car we had to walk through a row of jeering bums demanding compensation.   Then on the boulevard I caught sight at what I thought was a big stone statue of Buddha on the sidewalk in the midst of the crowd.   The stone head moved, looking accusingly our way as we waited at the light, and I saw it was a fat legless middle-aged man set on a wooden dolly.   Some poor unfortunate soldier probably, Vietnam vet, who'd stepped on a mine.   Brother, can't you spare a dime?   As soon as we were home I ran into the john and vomited.   Replay? 

  
  

  Two (or secondly, as my writing T.A. would correct), I got only a C+ average this quarter, surely the result of having too easy a course load, taking it for granted, and doing nothing but party and fuck around.   I don't really like acting; I'm not cut out for it.  And thirdly, as if that weren't enough disappointment, Brett got into Dentistry school and is leaving after Winter Quarter.  I know I should be happy for him, but......talk about it laters.

  
  

  I don't miss San Francisco.  The endless December wedding train of honking cars carrying from the expressway as they fight for passage.    Dad ready to break from nervous tension.   Trying to rendevous with friends without seeming rude and untame.  And Coke For Brains home for the holidays and staying in my room.   I'm sure I'll find it littered with dirty magazines, pink cigarette buts, and sticky half-eaten chocolates when I return.   All my clothes she borrowed territorily marked with her strong perfume.   C'est la vie.  No, I'm perfectly content to remain in the land of excitement, with its fires and earthquakes, sickness and scandal.

  • 4:26 pm
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