Both hands. Please use both hands. No, don’t close your eyes.
Thursday June 21st 2018, 9:44 pm
Filed under: Boozy,can't make that shit up,friends,holidays,seasonal,summer Tags:

Both hands – neither carrying a child. The enormous amount of energy worrying about someone else’s bladder for the last month is lifted, for a week. And so here I am, lady and gentleman (actually, I think that’s an accurate summary of my audience), deep into the red wine after a dinner of ridiculous home-made pizza. Gotta work on the transfer to the newly arrived pizza stone, and the dough was too thick, but the cream/onion reduction sauce was pretty killer.

A tenure track job for an old ?friend?. Acquaintance? I don’t know what the fuck he is. He’s been in LA for years and years, and we’ve had drinks twice; once sucked, once was delightful. And now he’s off to a TT job in an East Coast College Town. This is the man who, over drinks in Chicago, as we drank for the second time in a decade, told me that his then-girlfriend-now-wife had only ever known him on the market. I lack words to imagine that as a sustained existence. I don’t think I realized, quite, the person I was to the people who knew me 2003/4-2006. Nor those who know me for the next 7 years. I’ve always gotten it done, and though I’ve studiously (ha) avoided facing the price, I know it’s been substantial.

Drinks with one of my oldest friends before YCT and Small left. Mid-afternoon beers after a morning co-oping at the small’s preschool. As I try to get better at this tenure shit (though, 90 minutes of cooking for one this evening was probably overkill). He described it as something he described to others as the Robin Hood trick of shooting a bullseye and then splitting the first arrow with a second. Someone I underestimate occasionally, and who occasionally reminds me not to underestimate.

Since my last, San Francisco, sushi, City Lights, Berkeley. Un-processable experiences, almost, mid-May, a lifetime/month ago. Joy with a friend. Uncomplicated pleasure in places where the pleasure of youth was mixed with a lot of the suffering of youth. Long walks and long talks and a _friend_. Not my strong suit.

A mixed day of work and errands and different errands and different work. And cooking. And music. As you would, if you could. And I can. So I did.


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