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*As in "Welcome to" and where "Gator Country"
means "Los Angeles"
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Gator Country: More on Epiphanies
Hallelujah 2006.
My real new year started yesterday. Sunshine Jen and Solstice (and I) met up at a fantastic pub called Sonny McLeans in Santa Monica. It's a Boston transplant, this pub. The owners are from Boston, there's Red Sox stuff everywhere, beer and wine only (but the beer includes Guinness, and they have cider, so I'm in like Flynn), and ojala! Boston patrons too, like extras they flew in especially for the ambiance. Even Golden Tee and air hockey and a basketball throwing game out back. Yum.
I been workin' on my guy karma lately. As in, trying to make it better. For those 4 of you who read gatorcountry, you know I took and gave a couple love hits in '05. So I send a couple beers over to our male co-bar-patrons, and that was that. Just have a couple of beers on the chicks. Nothing more. Of course, we get into a conversation. And of course one of them is from Boston (a real merchant marine) and the other one is a (gasp!) writer [SJ, is this right?]. I said we were all writers, SJ more so than us others; then I said well, actually, SJ is the writer, etc. etc. and by that time I was a liar. Fart.
But it was good drunken convo. I love my girltalk. I love how I can just drop down on a stool, inhale a Guinness and cider, order 4 more and say to my ladies that I have f'ed up in the guy department, but I have learned some very recent valuable lessons and that 2006 is going to be about having great sex and maybe falling in love (again). And that I wonder how much more I have in me (falling in love, that is) before I hit the "enough" wall. SJ has got her shit together and is a stunning brunette. K is just fuggin' fearless and knows how to make clothes talk for her. I wasn't really offering any gifts yesterday. Yesterday was my epiphany day. The day that I needed to be loved. Whoa. It is hard for me to write that. I don't like to admit that I need emotional things. Especially love. Sex yes, love? Hm. But I was loved by my beautiful girlfriends who laughed at my "f this" attitude, and then I drove all buzzed up to tha Valley and met up with this great guy who answered his door half naked with a glass of red wine & was loved loved loved 3x and got my bootie spanked, and today I feel like bread rising and a hundred and one bucks. It's amazing what can happen in a day to turn the ol' boat around. And I love the fact that I got to lay on the horn and shout goofy crap at K after dropping her off, and while I was driving on the Hollywood Freeway looking at the amazing amazing moon last night, SJ was hanging out in a bocchi ball park drinking her hard won cup of coffee & checking out how hard we hell-ay'ers work to make a "natural" stream. I know that park. That's a really good visual right there for me. We each did what we were supposed to do. How often does that really happen?
So today I go to meet K for lunch. Turns out, I just need to take a couple pics of her artist boss at Venice Beach -- it was almost 80 degrees today -- b/c he's wearing a word every day in 2006 and it's going on a website (his site is trekkelly.com and the "word project" is www.trekkelly.com/word/). Anyhoo -- Trek and I go to the beach, I take some snaps of him hanging upside down on those gymnast rings out at muscle beach, and then he decides to climb up this giant structure with a big rope hanging off it. I take a pic of him way up there, then he comes on down the rope, but the last 8-10 feet or so were a disaster. He was 1/2 on the rope and 1/2 on the rest of this thing. Slid with one hand down the rope and tore his hand up to shreds. Landed hard (and he has 2 herniated disks in his back -- whoops). There was much wincing. We head over to the lifeguard station b/c Trek wants bandaids and tape -- and in the middle of his 'rub sand on it/macho taping up the blood' -- he passes out cold. I leap over to where he is to keep him from hitting the floor, scream at this guy to call 911 and stand for a while with Trek's head on my chest (where he basically landed) holding an ice pack on the back of his neck till the medics arrived. Funniest thing -- in the middle of the medic mess, Trek leans back, reaches his hand in his pocket and pulls out his camera and hands it to me very surreptitiously. F'in ham! So I shamelessly take photos of him getting medical attention. I took that pic of him getting oxygen that's on his website.
Ah, if only I could just rewind and do it all again. All I want in 2006 is more more more. I've resolved to be fuggin' brutally honest b/c in the very recent past it got me luvvved hard and made me laugh hard. And I've shut off my cable. Time to read and write more.
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