random spout

The heart's a twisted little beast. It does things without our consent! So what if we tell it to do something else or to forget or to find some strength, it really does have a mind of its own. Whatcha gonna do?! I've learned my lesson. Heart? You win. Onto other things, about a month ago I stayed with a friend in Santa Monica. A writing escape. Day1. First night I was alone and went out and was at the Standard in West Hollywood. I should have stayed there. I was actually getting some writing done. Still, I met up with a friend I haven't seen in 16 years at the Standard in Downtown LA. It was fun but the big difference is the $20 cover! Oh well, time spent with old friend, went back to my friend's house and attempted to sleep. Unsuccessful. Writing? Hmm, perhaps I'd give it a shot. Nothing. Day 2. I went to the Farmer's Market on Main Street and had a lovely time. Ate really good cheese, bought too many things for my daughter, listened to live music, watched all sorts of people wander and dance, play and argue and even saw the Tree Man. It was really hot. Back to friend's house. He was still on his surfing trip. I drop off the orchid I bought him to thank him for my writing retreat and then I decided to visit a café I once spent a great many nights of my youth staying up late with my best friend drinking cappuccino's and eating quiche. The Novel. I love that place. It's changed owners at least a dozen times but it's still there, books lining all of the walls, a strange smell, coffee, no more quiche ... stale cookies but still, outlets for my MAC. I pass the time, meet another aspiring writer (because god knows there aren't enough of us), drink some green tea, eat a stale cookie, wonder about the smells, enjoy the music flowing through my earphones into my awaiting ears and I write. Or I ponder. I write a little. I have ideas. I have wild ideas. I write some more. I ponder some more. My friend is finally back. I get ready. I'm a woman, I take my time. I'm ready. We eat. I eat. He makes gnocchi with fresh sage. It's tasty. We start talking about his surfing trip, about life. About a mutual friend ... well, not my friend anymore because I broke up with him 9 years ago but still, how me and my friend met in the first place. Finally, we decide. Karaoke. I put on my sexy shoes because I haven't worn mine in a while and a girl needs her sexy shoes. We walk down the hill and my ankle pops out. Still not entirely healed from the break in August. We get to the bottom of the hill and he walks back to his place to trade in my sexy shoes for my not-so-sexy-but-still-somehow-cute-enough flip flops and we hail a taxi. We don't feel like doing Santa Monica tonight. We head to Venice. Reminds me of the times I spent there ditching high school and smoking some Mary Jane with interesting characters and people I thought I liked but that's an entirely different story. We get out of the taxi and head on in. It's an upbeat sort of crowd and I'm with my friend I haven't hung out with in a long while without my husband (sometimes we need that) and without my daughter (definitely need those times) and well, the fact that I can drink and not worry about what time I come home is a nice change of pace. (I have a good husband. He lets me out!!) Order a margarita. It's not the greatest one I've ever had but it's pretty liberal on the tequila. I look at my friend and we head towards the Karaoke master. I give him my song and he puts it in with a certain look of, "really?" I smile and nod and watch the other drunks sing their happy songs. Most of them we've all heard before. I am getting more and more nervous but eventually my song comes up. My friend and I have had another drink in the interim though I actually had the bartender upstairs made me a hot water with lemon because I didn't want my voice to be too crazy. My turn. "Givin' Him something He Can Feel" by EnVogue. I do okay. Get a round of applause and feel grateful it's over! Then as the night progresses, my friend sings (of course we've been waiting all night and the second I have to go to the bathroom, well, that's when it was his turn). I still can hear him but I'm bummed I missed it. It was Van Morrison. It was good. So now another guy is up singing. He's pretty funny and then we realize, he can't read that fast! So he grabs my arm and asks me to sing with him. I do ... "O.P.P" (yeah, you know me!). Two more songs - "Without Me" and "Lose Yourself" (Eminem) and my friend and I are ready to leave. He's a bit toasty and I'm actually not (happily buzzed). We are at the ocean so we walk to the sand and I run towards the water. He eventually plants himself on the sand where he momentarily passes out. I don't mind. He's not looking. I just take off my jeans and put down my bag and I run into the ocean to feel the freedom I used to dwell in. I am free! I am freezing but I am free. I swim for a minute until I realize I'm not that far off from a bout with hypothermia. I can take a hint and so I grab my jeans, put them back on and wake my friend. We race to the taxi's. I win. We laugh and laugh and tell more crazy stories and have to ask the taxi driver to stop at a nearby ATM because we realized we ran out of cash but still, it was worth it. Day3. Morning comes. Hangover has reminded me who he is. Two and half drinks. I'm a light weight. Greasy hasbrowns and eggs and bacon are the only things that can do the trick. No sleep still. I'm reeling with exhaustion and disappointed I didn't write more but thrilled I saw my friend and remembered what it was like to bathe in the beauty of the sea. Sometimes we just need to remember what it is that feeds us. Often in our lives it is something every day but every so often, it's a simple reminder that we can still be the youthful, crazy, carefree person living and breathing and begging for an outing.