Kempton
Saturday August 22nd 2015, 10:51 pm
Filed under: Berkeley,Boozy,Miscellaneous, Truly Tags:

Twenty years since an under-aged me had the perfect studio apartment in Oakland. Hardwood floors, high ceilings, claw foot tub, Murphy table, deep double sink, hexagonal bathroom tile, improbably large closet. And now I find myself in a very similar place, perhaps a mile away, but for a hundred plus bucks a night via AirBnB, as the small snoozes in a travel cot that fits in one of the large closets. Following the drag-tastic wedding of the most emphatically Bay Area scene it’s possible to imagine. Nominative determinism commune-raised half-sister-featuring lesbian marries drag king /q in an all-singing all-dancing wedding with a drag troupe for comic relief and a baby-watching nap space minded by volunteers.

Oakland is different. I imagine the $450 I paid for that flat pales – maybe 2k now? I don’t regret taking that glorious/ugly eight foot couch from the lobby with the Scientology fliers, though. And it’s nice to visit. Including a kick-ass pizza from the workers collective bakery named after the basque Marxist. Busy joint. And a farmers market with organic vegan Himalayan food. But it’s not going to work at the moment, which is a profound shame. I still love it here. If I could, I would. But it’s complicated.



cuz fuck him, that’s why
Wednesday August 12th 2015, 12:08 am
Filed under: Boozy,can't make that shit up,family Tags:

The wrench, the stick, or the belt.

Or the roaches. The walker that won’t fit through the bathroom doors. The bedside urinal to piss in. The dorm room that awaits, now that he can’t feed himself, clean himself, do the laundry, live without falling over and making it worse. And he’s lucid enough to know, not only that he misses having a diplomatic passport, but that he probably won’t remember that in a year or two.

And I look at the small in my arms, and measure the same distance between him and me as between me and him, and I wonder.