pop the corks babies, mama’s 100!!
this means i am at least self-absorbed enough to repeat this somewhat manic journaling behavior 100 times. and knowing that, i will try to give a good one today.
today i got a call that went roughly like this:
person: yo you will appreciate this
person: so friday my friend played carnegie hall, and they put him and his band up at the W hotel
person: yeah so he calls me and my man and is like, yo this is my one chance to party at the W. you down?
me: of course you are.
person: of course i are! so adrienne, we partied at the W hotel like rock stars. it was hot.
person: we even got kicked out! like 30 guards came to escort us out!
me: oh that’s awesome
person: yes, and i got totally trashed, drinking, and smoking. and i should know better than to drink and smoke cause it always makes me vomit.
me (grossed out): you vomited in the hotel??
person: no! i totally pulled an adrienne!!!
pause for narrative reflection…
a couple of years ago i used to be a different kind of pleasure activist. not the new agey life is a joyful noise type, but the ‘ingest the best ignore the rest’ type…yes, i had my wild days, i would work a depressing job in publishing all day, immerse my head in the nearest pot-cloud all night, and then find joy on the weekends in the form of roughly anything that can be purchased with a smiley face on the packaging! when nothing special was available, i would call my good friend whiskey and say, quite simply, ‘come put the hurt on me you fine old bitch.’
after one such night, my sister and i had to go pick up my mama at the airport. i woke up with a sloshing pool of whiskey still splattering up and over the barricades of my sanity, but i put on a smile and we took the subway, then the little bus shuttle they had in those days at JFK. we waited and there she was, my sweet mama. we said i was feelin a bit under the weather – working so hard you know…and we hopped in the back of a cab. and i even thought to myself ‘good girl – unless she lights a match and you explode you are about to be off the hangover hook!’
somewhere on 3rd avenue the gods of hungover transportation realized the massive wrong i was about to pull off, which would set the wrong karmic precendent for baby alkies from coast to coast, and clutched my belly like triton clutches his demonic joystick before a bad wave. the cab came to a stop, i opened the door, and a bad wave within me loosed roughly a gallon of pure jack daniel’s onto the scorching summer pavement. i then sat up, closed the door, and gave my mother a demure smile.
its been years since i’ve been drunk enough to throw up, but it is with some pride that i listen to someone telling their own personal keith richards story and feel it appropriate to call it an adrienne moment.
in other news, i got off a red eye from canada a few hours ago. i had an amazing time in vancouver. no working phone means big time creativity in trying to communicate. i was sending mental text messages and searching for wi-fi and ended up having an amazing reconnection with a few of the folks from my hollyhock heaven retreat earlier this year – everyone is looking good and bright and had positive stories to tell. then i got to go meet a woman i have been in orbit with for years, since my harm reduction days. she played me justin timberlake videos and took me to cloud 9 on the bc bud express. soulmate!
we were both young in the harm reduction movement when it seemed really exciting, and got to share in the sadness that right now there doesn’t seem to be a commitment to folks like us in that particular movement, then thumbed through the memories of our harm reduction folks we love who are still doing the hardcore frontlines work. i always hope for a new moment there, but it will have another name, and other faces, eh?
yes i said ‘eh’ – what? its an awesome way to end a sentence!
amidst the delirious sleep on the plane i had another – perhaps i’ll just call it a hunger pang for the heartbreaker. the pang felt like this: ‘go to him’. then this other pang in my brain was like, ‘yeah right, go be his therapist slash therapist slash special ed teacher. no one wants that, you don’t want to do it and he doesn’t want it done. give him some room for pride! give yourself some room for new nookie! back away slowly, and smile.’
i am starting to realize that the whole discourse may just be a travel thing, like a twitch that occurs in my heart at roughly 32,000 feet, and that’s all. i wanted to sing the joss stone song at him – ‘a car this fine don’t pass your way every day – dontcha wanna ride baby?’ i think this means the deep love is devolving to a teenage pop song emotion. that’s fine cause my heart looks great blowing big pink bubbles.
by the time i landed i had slept if off. now i am feeling a bit cracky as i try to stay up and get back quickly on east coast time. sofia and jenn are sitting somewhere with lunch hot and the cosby show playin and i am going to set out on an urban voyage to find them. oh this week is a good week to go out in the world and put on your cool hat:
tuesday is rude movements – tchaiko’s last rude movements for a while as she strikes off for hotter places. go to apt around 10ish and find tyler and the crew spinnin the ill-type beats on an international tip. lots of fine people to gawk at sideways.
then wednesday my girl ilana is in town on a bill with this palestinian hip-hop crew DAM: oct 5 at climax (14 ave b) $5-10 sliding scale starts at 9:30 (THANK GOD – pet peeve, shows that start at 11pm on a weeknight. only the artist thinks this is cool). come on out and grind on me.
also, my cab driver today was giving me the skinny on the koran and how useful it would be for me to read some of it, perhaps even daily. i really thought this was sweet and perhaps a divine message, so am going to buy one today, cause ramadan starts this week. happy ramadan!!