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Birthday dinner, casino, sloth

Friday night Catwoman (who doesn't own a cat) threw a birthday dinner party for me. I can't imagine a better evening - a bunch of funny, voluble (and ridiculously good-looking!) friends eating an enthusiastically prepared and delicious meal. There was sparking conversation and something funny being said in too many directions at once to pay attention to them all; there were fun card games and many a bottle of wine cracked and passed - and of course, cake. Delicious, delicious cake. My birthday wish: to spend my next birthday in company as good. So thanks nephandi and misskitty14; your presence was much appreciated.

Saturday I went to another friend's birthday at Hollywood Park and Casino. Such a place I have not seen - a casino that was delapidated and crapulous at the moment of its creation, much less 40 years later when every carpet is grimy, all the 70's fabulous mirrors haven't been cleaned since the 70's and are more full of dust than the Republican Ethics Manual - and in every hollow-eyed shuffling person an air of utter desolation and despair. If Dementors opened a casino, this would be it. Larry decided he wanted to get everybody together for bingo - but your mother's church basement bingo this was not! These people meant business - the numbers were read off at lightning speed, far too fast to keep up with. The games were complicated with "kites", "hardway straights", "inside corners", "double threes" and about 12 cards to keep track of at once. Madness! It felt more like detention than bingo. There was a very large (and for the most part, very gay) contingent out for the party, and we gave up fairly quickly and went for dinner and drinks at Islands. One mystery remains: why were at least half the bingoers Samoan? There were flamingos in the middle of the racetrack at Hollywood Park - evidently their wings are clipped so they can't escape. I am now mulling over the best possible means of liberating those flamingoes, and what exactly to do with them, once I have. Too many to fit in my bathtub, that's for sure. (Right?)

Sunday I determined not to put shoes on, plantar fasciitis be damned. I have a wound on my foot from where the tape rubbed it raw, and it hasn't healed in weeks - every time I put on a sock, the sock bonds with the scab and tears it off. It meant not bieng able to make an obligation or two, but in the end it was worth it - I got to catch up on reading, fiddle around with the Wii, and go to the beach with Catwoman for a little while. I love it when the pelicans do that crazy dive-bombing thing they do when they're flying alone. When they fly in formation they stay in a neat line and just skim - but solo, they roll straight up into the sky, stall out, and then plummet down in a very dramatic splash. The drum circle in Venice was particularly large last night - must have been at least two hundred people. When the cops broke it up at 9 (when I was busily at work, trying to fix a problem on the site - i'm on call this week) people streaming out were particularly boisterous. Almost criminally so, really - from which I divine that a great deal of substance abuse was occurring in that circle. The police tend to turn their heads at such excesses though - whether it's fear of the crowd, or just concentrating on crimes that actually matter, instead of spending hours booking a couple of thugs or hippies for smoking weed - I do not know.

Last night, crazy dreams that made no particular since individually, and had no coherent story to them - but each bit reflected very much something going on in my life at the moment, and offering insight into same. One thing that stands out even now - in the dream I needed a ride to work and knew Condor Lass was in town. I asked her if she could give me a ride out of desperation, everyone else was busy. She said yes. When she picked me up, I was a little nervous, and thanked her for coming. She said, "It's okay - and I think I'm willing to give us another chance together." She said as if my agreeing were a fait accompli, but I hesitated. At once overwhelmed with how much feeling for her still lurks hidden down deep - but also at how I knew it was a bad idea, and didn't really want to. In the dream, I just shoved my fists in my mouth so I wouldn't say anything.

If only I did that more often in real life.

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
blanchemains
Aug. 20th, 2007 04:51 pm (UTC)
I love flamingoes. Silly birds and very comical. Also very... fragrant. Not the sort of thing you want in your bathtub or balcony. Perhaps just try to think of Hollywood Park as a flamingo *sanctuary*?
aghrivaine
Aug. 20th, 2007 04:54 pm (UTC)
If it were a sanctuary, they could leave, couldn't they? But they clip their wings. Those flamingoes are prisoners!!
blanchemains
Aug. 20th, 2007 05:34 pm (UTC)
Oh, it's worse than "clipped". They pinion birds that are on display like that.

http://www.dpi.nsw.gov.au/agriculture/livestock/animal-welfare/codes/general/bird-pinioning



yagathai
Aug. 20th, 2007 06:52 pm (UTC)
Happy belated!
maeris
Aug. 20th, 2007 07:44 pm (UTC)
That second paragraph is one of the most hilarious things I've ever read. Truly brilliant writing.
aghrivaine
Aug. 20th, 2007 07:50 pm (UTC)
Well thank you! Even if I'm not writing long-winded emo meditations on love and its attendant suffering - I'm glad you like it.
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )

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