I went to New York City almost five years ago with Married Guy, I was high from the trip for almost a month. It was great. I felt terrific! This time, I’m already over it. Its not because I didn’t have an absolutely fabulous time. I did. I actually think this trip was better because I didn’t have to deal with Married Guy’s irrational jealousy on the way home and I also had more time with “G” since he wasn’t working.
But that’s perhaps why I’m a bit sad. Yes “G” is gay, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I got to hang out with a very nice man, who always treats me like a goddess. It was also just nice to hang out with him. Lay on the couch with him with the lights off, laughing at stupid stuff on TV. Seeing him in the morning coming out fresh from the shower and looking pretty damn fabulous. Not to mention looking across the table at the restaurant on New York Harbor while the waiter was grinding parmesan cheese on my pasta and forgetting to say stop, because I think I was just looking at “G” and forgetting everything else.
Does it sound like I’m in love with him? Well I’m not. Yes I do love him. He’s my friend. But I think it was more about getting that minute dose of intimacy that I am so sorely lacking in my life. I live alone. I don’t date. I have few friends. So being with “G”, who is from my old life in California, reminded me that I am capable of having friends.
Because at the moment I feel like everyone I am in contact with in my life here, wants me for something. Car rides. Co-hosting. I’m actually also an audience for THEIR angst, believe it or not. You guys may listen to my angst, but in real life, I generally have to listen to everyone else’s angst, except for those precious few minutes I have on the couch of a therapist. Pretty funny, huh?
Its lonely. How lonely?
We’ve been having a real hot spell this week. I was walking into this building on Tuesday when this homeless guy sprawled out on the sidewalk said to me, “You look really hot.” Now I didn’t know if he was referring to the weather or whether I was some kind of a stunning goddess and when my shadow befell his useless carcass, he was so overwhelmed by my mojo-a-go-go, he had to do a homeless man shout-out. Naturally I chose answer #2 and said “Thank you”, although I did feel rather foolish because I knew deep down he was really talking about the weather.
But alas, I am alone again, except for my old friend art, as in art(work).
The day after I got home I went down to an arts festival in our city and met up with some “friends” from my art class. We had purchased two spaces for a sidewalk drawing contest. The two teenagers had already done most of the art for our space, since I hadn’t gotten out of bed until almost noon (long train trip, you know). But I did contribute a small piece of chalk art in the corner of our square of a bunny. It was 7-7-07 that day, so I incorporated that into the design, although I doubt if anyone noticed.
We didn’t win anything. It might have been “L” the Hippy Chick’s last minute addition to the front of our space. She had inexplicably chosen to draw a naked woman with her legs totally splayed open, as in “I’m ready for my PAP smear, Doctor”. She had even asked me to pose for her momentarily because she couldn’t think which way the toes would be pointing if a woman had her vagina poking out towards the sky. I mean that’s okay in our class, but I saw a few people visably shaken by the image and didn’t think it was okay out on the sidewalk where kids were, like mommy why does that lady have her legs open and you can see her wee-wee. But I didn’t say anything. Oy!
And then on Wednesday before my art class with Charlemagne (yes, I am stupidly working with him again. Please, get a gun and shoot me.), I had a painting in a small art show open down in the artsy, rich yuppie part of town. Its in a bakery. Hell, why not. I had an art show in a hair salon last winter. So I went to the show.
I was a little nervous because unlike my usual show, I didn’t know anyone. I had just entered two pieces and they had been selected. So I felt terribly uncomfortable. I kept finding myself standing behind circles of people, looking at their backs while they were chatting. See what a social retard I am? So I had about 7 cups of punch and about 4 pastries. Talk about a sugar high! Woo!
I finally stood near my painting, mainly so I wouldn’t be a social retard and asked this guy if he would take my picture with my painting. He just screamed with delight when he heard it was mine. He was gay too. My painting is a takeoff of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”, except with a kitty, you know, since I’m awittykitty. Once he talked to me…and believe me, my voice was quivering talking to him…I got a little braver, because he then told this group of women who I was and THEY all screamed and said how hilarious my painting was and how well it was done, etc.
I was a little upset about my one painting however. The place I had submitted it to had rematted it without asking me. Sure if they had done it right it would have been okay, but they matted it with mustard colored matting. Like WTF??? Did the 1970’s call and ask for their mustard colored matting back? They had also put a “Not for sale” sticker on it. Huh? Right now I am so broke, Guardcat is almost for sale. So I had them put $100 on it. Probably won’t get it, but maybe some 1970’s lovin’ yuppie might be redoing their house in a avacado/mustard disco motif and needs an Edvard Munch painting of a cat screaming….you just never know.