Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Macaroni and Che.

Lupo asked me yesterday, upon hearing that I saw Hennessy (just a friend who may read the site now ... hrm), "What, was Crocker unavailable?"

Lupo, evoking a name from the list of 'Guys Who Aren't Right For Me,' earned a "ME-OWWW."

My goal that night, tacky and short-sighted as it may be, was to find my own way to misbehave with my own crowd after watching all my grade-school counterparts get to do it, and it was my other goal to look hot in the suit. I did both.

I only hope that the photos reflect me at my hottest, which for others would probably only be lukewarm, but that's been difficult lately. I'm not doing portraiture well, and the people taking the photos never seem to realize it's a good idea for me to be looking directly at the camera. My friend Bonnie took one this weekend in which I was looking to the side, so it looks like my left eye has this creepy cataract in it, like I'm the Witch in a Tim Burton movie.

Went for a walk with Charlie yesterday after he worked late and wasn't in the mood for coffee. Boy does not look good in a dirty tanktop and camouflage shorts. Oh, and he's younger than me. And he just got out of a two-year relationship with a shady guy who he went through a commitment ceremony with, and he tells me that being in his apartment gives him painful, painful memories of their time together. And he smokes and talks about retail. His friends, apparently, want him in a relationship already. But I advised him to take his time before finding someone. I told him this partly because I believe it's true and partly because it annoys me when people younger than me bemoan a lost soulmate and then tell me about the soulmate's criminal record and lack of a job.

"I never met him," I told Charlie, "But I think it's safe to say you can do much better."

He told someone on the phone that I was his neighbor, when they asked him who he was talking to. Which is cool. Because I need a neighbor. And I'm still gonna clean my apartment. Maybe I'll have Charlie over for a screening of DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, and we can make DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES-inspired cuisine. Like I'll make "Susan's Burned-And-Undercooked Macaroni-and-Cheese," and he can make "Gabrielle's Paella" or something.

Oh, and Charlie told me that I looked great in my suit Saturday night.

And Travis helped me get my car last night, for Travis is a really good friend. And I'm remembering lately how good it is to have lots of those.

Last night, I saw THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES, and, though Gael Garcia Bernal sure is dreamy and looks like he's in better shape now than he was in Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN, I don't get Che Guevara hero-worship.

I mean, I understand appreciating Che's idealism and his desire for continental unity. But communism still doesn't work in practice, and is the Cuban Revolution a good thing if it involved insurgent guerrilla warfare and brought us Castro?

I called Vic up last night to discuss it, but she told me to shut up about communism and go to bed.

No comments: