So, Happy New Year and stuff! I can hear people still (illegally) shooting off fireworks, so I guess their party must still be going-- well, kudos to them. More partying all around! On my part, the turning of the calendar (oops, still literally have to do that to my own hard copy) was a shockingly serene and pleasant experience.
Went down to New Orleans with some friends, which on New Year's Eve (or anything remotely resembling a holiday, really) is usually a crazy party chaos-pit of an experience. And, okay, there were a lot of your typical "crazy party" things. Noise! Liquor! Lights! Absurdly tiny sparkly dresses and way-too-high heels! Beer! Liquor! Sparklers! Liquor! We toured from Uptown all the way through and around the French Quarter, a nice if exhaustive route. And as I glided (almost completely sober!) through this mess of good-natured debauchery, I had a thought that is pretty unusual for me at the most low-key of times and much more so at the present moment:
There is no anxiety. I am calm, with a firm grip on the reigns, and I am having a damn good time.
And it was true. Despite my distressingly poor ability to navigate even a simple grid of streets, the erratic temperature and baromentric conditions in the Quarter, and ragingly drunk tourists and glaring police everywhere, I was fine. I was not panicking, or even nervous. Not about getting accosted, or getting vomit on my shoes (though I was very sensible and careful to avoid both of these situations), or meeting up with the 572 other friends roaming the streets of New Orleans--even having a destination seemed pretty unimportant. This, I must emphasize, is a pretty big deal for me. Even the most mundane plans cause a rumbling of anxiety in my gut, and any kind of "adventure" tends to send it clawing its way up my spinal cord. If I don't have at the very least a written schedule of activities with accompanying time estimates and maps, things go downhill for me and my ability to enjoy the evening very quickly. So aimlessly wandering with my Boy and two friends alongside packs of feral party-goers through the belly of New Orleans without worry? Kind of a big deal. Starting 2012 off right. And hey, it's the last New Year's, so why not?
In the end, we got to our destination and beyond, and then back to the car and subsequent sleeping arrangements without any sort of injury or major expenditure (besides some serious walking time). Pretty damn good. Woke up this morning (um, afternoon), grabbed coffee from my new favorite cafe Uptown, Z'otz, then headed over to my lovely friend Mandi's house for some tasty New Year Gumbo. And still made it back in time for Boyfriend to get to work. New Year Success!
Resolution: Er, be better, I suppose. I bought a pack of foil stars, and am going to mark my calendar with them when I do "good things" -- exercise, make art/writing, do food things that are tasty cheap AND healthy. We shall see!
And lastly (and randomly): I don't know if I'll ever get married. Hell, I don't know if I even want to get married. And I know the following conflicts with my compulsive anxiety as described above. But if I do get married, I can only hope that the wedding will be as amazing as Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer's was. Yes, I teared up a bit. Totally worth it.
Showing posts with label 2012. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2012. Show all posts
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The World is an Improbable Place
All the time, improbable things are happening to people with otherwise reasonable lives.
…
Did I ever tell you about the time I met the Devil?
We (the Boy and I) were walking home after visiting with a friend. We were in That Neighborhood—every city has at least one, the refuge of the artists, the druggies, the bohemians, the hippie kids living off the dregs left by the legacy of the Love Generation. None of the bland menace of Surburbia here; the buildings tumble together in a hodge-podge of colors and styles, all different but all dingy and not a little worn around the edges. In retrospect, it wasn’t particularly surprising to find him there, going about his business. It takes away credibility from the bogeyman in the closet image, at least.
In any case, dusk had set in, and we were looking to get home before total dark. But it was winter, and before we had made it halfway, night crept in and overtook us. It was clear and very cold, and the stars had rallied against the smear of streetlights to show an impressive strength of numbers. In fact, I was so caught up in gawking at the stars that I almost didn’t notice the man standing on the edge of the road.
He was talking on a cell phone when he caught sight of us. “No, no. Of course. Hey, let me call you back later. Okay. Ciao.” He snapped the phone shut. “Hey!” It took me a second to realize he was talking to us. He was standing next to a telescope, grinning and waving us over. Behind him, another man, short and stocky and wearing an oversized fur coat, was loading boxes into the back of a truck.
I glanced at the Boy anxiously. This guy seemed on the shady side, and I didn’t necessarily want to get drawn into talking with him. The Boy just shrugged and waved a greeting to the man. As we walked towards him, I eyed him suspiciously. He was a tall, swarthy fellow with dark close-cropped hair that came to a widow’s peak at his forehead. Now that we were closer, I saw that he had a thin scar that snaked down his left cheek. He was still grinning; it seemed vaguely out of place on his rather severe face.
“Here to catch the show?” he asked amiably. We exchanged puzzled looks as he waved, taking in the sky with his gesture. “The show,” he repeated, patting his telescope fondly. “Venus and Jupiter are dancing together tonight, folks, right above the crescent moon. Those cosmos are smiling right down on us.” He was still grinning, and the light was slipping and sliding across his teeth. It was beginning to unnerve me. As he went on to list other rare astronomical occurrences, I watched the other man load boxes and mentally named him “the sidekick.” Then the first man paused, looking at us.
“And do you know the next time this—all this—is going to happen? Hm? No?” His grin grew wider as we shook our heads. He looked over at his sidekick.
“2012.”
“Twenty-twelve!” he repeated brightly, sounding like a manic game show host. “Yes, 2012, that’s when it’s all going down. Big party, bi-i-ig party. Everyone’s going to be there. You guys should come.” We nodded, laughed a bit nervously. “Didn’t catch your names,” he said, looking at us. His eyes were hooded, and I couldn’t quite make out their color. We hesitated, then told him our names. He repeated them slowly, committing them to his memory. “Look forward to seeing you there,” he told us. I wondered how soon we could extract ourselves from this.
“Hey, are you guys in love?” the sidekick asked suddenly. The Boy and I looked at each other, taken aback.
“Um, yes, actually we are,” I replied. The Man (he had gained capital letter status in my mind) nodded. He held one hand out in front of him and brought the other one back, drawing an imaginary bow. He aimed at and “shot” the Boy, who played along, putting his hand to his heart.
“Yeah, that’s good,” the Man said, lowering his hands. “We’re gonna need more people like you two. Good people. Smart people.” He was grinning again. “You know.” We laughed again. Yeah, we agreed, we knew.
No one said anything for a moment, then the Boy mentioned the new Metallica album, which the Man seemed quite enthusiastic about. They threw that around for a while, then we finally made our good-byes.
“Very nice meeting you,” the Man said. “I’ll try and remember you guys…keep an eye out for you.” He winked. And as we turned to go, I thought I saw his eyes, for the briefest of moments, gleam bright red. I blamed it, like anyone would, on a trick of the light.
We continued along the street in silence, but when we got to the corner, we both spoke simultaneously.
“Was that--?”
“Did we--?”
We stopped and looked at each other, then kept walking.
After a moment, I said casually, “I’m thinking we just had a chat with Satan.”
“That’s funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
“Should we…I don’t know, go to church this weekend or something?”
“Nah. Probably wouldn’t help.”
“You’re probably right.” I thought for a moment. “That new movie’s playing tonight. Want to go? It’s still early.”
“Sounds good.”
So we continued on our way. I only glanced over my shoulder twice the rest of the way home.
…
Did I ever tell you about the time I met the Devil?
We (the Boy and I) were walking home after visiting with a friend. We were in That Neighborhood—every city has at least one, the refuge of the artists, the druggies, the bohemians, the hippie kids living off the dregs left by the legacy of the Love Generation. None of the bland menace of Surburbia here; the buildings tumble together in a hodge-podge of colors and styles, all different but all dingy and not a little worn around the edges. In retrospect, it wasn’t particularly surprising to find him there, going about his business. It takes away credibility from the bogeyman in the closet image, at least.
In any case, dusk had set in, and we were looking to get home before total dark. But it was winter, and before we had made it halfway, night crept in and overtook us. It was clear and very cold, and the stars had rallied against the smear of streetlights to show an impressive strength of numbers. In fact, I was so caught up in gawking at the stars that I almost didn’t notice the man standing on the edge of the road.
He was talking on a cell phone when he caught sight of us. “No, no. Of course. Hey, let me call you back later. Okay. Ciao.” He snapped the phone shut. “Hey!” It took me a second to realize he was talking to us. He was standing next to a telescope, grinning and waving us over. Behind him, another man, short and stocky and wearing an oversized fur coat, was loading boxes into the back of a truck.
I glanced at the Boy anxiously. This guy seemed on the shady side, and I didn’t necessarily want to get drawn into talking with him. The Boy just shrugged and waved a greeting to the man. As we walked towards him, I eyed him suspiciously. He was a tall, swarthy fellow with dark close-cropped hair that came to a widow’s peak at his forehead. Now that we were closer, I saw that he had a thin scar that snaked down his left cheek. He was still grinning; it seemed vaguely out of place on his rather severe face.
“Here to catch the show?” he asked amiably. We exchanged puzzled looks as he waved, taking in the sky with his gesture. “The show,” he repeated, patting his telescope fondly. “Venus and Jupiter are dancing together tonight, folks, right above the crescent moon. Those cosmos are smiling right down on us.” He was still grinning, and the light was slipping and sliding across his teeth. It was beginning to unnerve me. As he went on to list other rare astronomical occurrences, I watched the other man load boxes and mentally named him “the sidekick.” Then the first man paused, looking at us.
“And do you know the next time this—all this—is going to happen? Hm? No?” His grin grew wider as we shook our heads. He looked over at his sidekick.
“2012.”
“Twenty-twelve!” he repeated brightly, sounding like a manic game show host. “Yes, 2012, that’s when it’s all going down. Big party, bi-i-ig party. Everyone’s going to be there. You guys should come.” We nodded, laughed a bit nervously. “Didn’t catch your names,” he said, looking at us. His eyes were hooded, and I couldn’t quite make out their color. We hesitated, then told him our names. He repeated them slowly, committing them to his memory. “Look forward to seeing you there,” he told us. I wondered how soon we could extract ourselves from this.
“Hey, are you guys in love?” the sidekick asked suddenly. The Boy and I looked at each other, taken aback.
“Um, yes, actually we are,” I replied. The Man (he had gained capital letter status in my mind) nodded. He held one hand out in front of him and brought the other one back, drawing an imaginary bow. He aimed at and “shot” the Boy, who played along, putting his hand to his heart.
“Yeah, that’s good,” the Man said, lowering his hands. “We’re gonna need more people like you two. Good people. Smart people.” He was grinning again. “You know.” We laughed again. Yeah, we agreed, we knew.
No one said anything for a moment, then the Boy mentioned the new Metallica album, which the Man seemed quite enthusiastic about. They threw that around for a while, then we finally made our good-byes.
“Very nice meeting you,” the Man said. “I’ll try and remember you guys…keep an eye out for you.” He winked. And as we turned to go, I thought I saw his eyes, for the briefest of moments, gleam bright red. I blamed it, like anyone would, on a trick of the light.
We continued along the street in silence, but when we got to the corner, we both spoke simultaneously.
“Was that--?”
“Did we--?”
We stopped and looked at each other, then kept walking.
After a moment, I said casually, “I’m thinking we just had a chat with Satan.”
“That’s funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
“Should we…I don’t know, go to church this weekend or something?”
“Nah. Probably wouldn’t help.”
“You’re probably right.” I thought for a moment. “That new movie’s playing tonight. Want to go? It’s still early.”
“Sounds good.”
So we continued on our way. I only glanced over my shoulder twice the rest of the way home.
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