272: the first day of the last month of my lease

“Hola amigos. What’s goin’ on at your end? It’s been a long time since I’ve rapped at ya’, but I’ve been busier than a horny dog at a leg convention.” (Jim Anchower)

This has happened before. You know the drill. When I haven’t written for a few days or a few weeks, I spew the events of those missed days into a single list that resembles a trip itinerary, or a food diary for somebody on a stangely permissive diet:

8/29/03: Saw Maria graduate from the College. Didn’t drink enough water during the day but drank more than enough Sprecher’s at her graduation party that night. Matt D. was at the party, and tipsy enough to be amusing.

8/30/03: Spent afternoon in Wicker Park looking at small, dirty apartments. They made me sad. There was a girl also looking at apartments who looked like she could be the dirty cousin of Carrie from, well, you know, “Carrie”.

8/31/03: Saw ‘Masked & Anonymous’ with Jeff Ramone. Was that Mickey Rourke playing the dictator-in-waiting? Why is Luke Wilson so dang cute?

9/1/03: Watched “MI-5” marathon on A&E. Matthew MacFayden – so stern, and yet so cute!

But sometimes there isn’t a lot of time and energy and interest in self-indulgent, ornate passages:

“So as I sat in that pew, fanning myself with a souvenir program, I started to hallucinate. Visions of my own college graduation danced in my head as I watched Maria march down the aisle of Rockefeller chapel. It was a moment years in the making and I was only aware of how much my feet had hurt when I graduated from college (that’s what wearing 3″ high platform sandals will do for you) and how much I wanted a cigarette. I sat with Maria’s parents in a pew next to an open door, which made for a nice cool breeze but that’s where all the young mothers with their young screaming children congregated for a timeout so I found it less than idyllic.”

So there must be something in between.

As you might have already guessed, Maria Cardow is officially an alumna of the University of Chicago, and is now entitled to receive solicitations for donations and submit tidbits about her life to Elaine Chang for inclusing in the updates section of the Alumni magazine. Of course, because of a fuck-up at the registrar’s office, Maria’s AP credits were not listed in time so she walked but got a terse note from the Registrar in her leatherette folder instead of a diploma. We laughed, walked to the registrar’s office, she in her cap and gown, and straighted it all out. Later that night at her graduation party, Maria’s parents cursed me for being mistaken about the distance from the party store on Fullerton & Damen to the bar on Damen and Moffatt. Maria’s parents had to get a cab so they didn’t have to walk the mile or so with a bunch of balloons between them. Maria’s mom had made little custom labels for the mini chocolate bars she had brought, the labels printed with a color picture of Maria and “CONGRATULATIONS MARIA!” in block letters below the picture. Everybody with the exception of Bruce and Joan proceeded to get sloshed, though their five year old Gracie pulled at her root beer like a regular barfly. I took pictures of folks wearing Maria’s mortarboard, ate cake, and allowed pictures to be taken of my cleavage. It was a fun day.

The day after graduation, I spent a long 90 minutes walking around east Wicker park looking at sad, tiny, dirty apartments. True, they were cheap, but they were cheap for good reason. I stoped focusing on the apartments and instead grew infatuated with one of my fellow apartment-hunters, a slight girl wearing a too baggy green cotton dress cut like a peasant blouse, dirty white leather sandals, and grimy blond hair. She seemed to list from side to side as we navigated the sidewalks, tugging at the zipper on her leatherette purse. After wandering around in the hot sun, I had lunch at the Hollywood Grill and dragged my sorry ass home to nap away the day.

Sunday. The last day of August. A gorgeously gray day, though a bit humid. I spent most of the day indoors in air-conditioning, at the movies with Jeff or exchanging a CD at Tower Records. I went to Tuscany on Clark for Thom’s birthday dinner, where I was the only girl in a company of men. And these were cute guys, and it only made me think of Margaret Cho’s immortal words: “I love my gay male friends, but when I was a little girl I always used to wish that I would be constantly surrounded by gorgeous guys, and I am, and I should have been more specific.” At times, I felt like that annoying tomboy who kept tagging after the Jets in “West Side Story” – you got the feeling that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throttle the Jets for teasing her and not making her a part of the gang, or try to make out with them. But this was no time to bemoan the dearth of single straight men in my life. It was time to celebrate Thom’s birthday and eat veal parmigiana, to accept compliments on my accessories and take pictures.

After dinner, we went to Berlin for Prince night. Fun fun fun, as the DJ played the hits I do so loved, and I finally met the guy I met through Nerve (because Thom actually met him a few days ago, this guy who goes to law school with Thom’s friend Peter and my friend Justin) that I thought would actually date me until he was all “Uh, I’m actually not into girls but I see that you’re friends with this guy on Nerve who is gay so do you know if he’s seeing anybody?” I felt kind of ridiculous, kind of humiliated, convinced that every time he leaned over to talk to Thom’s friend Peter that he was saying something about me, like “Ha ha, that girl actually thought I was interested!”. I felt like I was in some alternate universe created by the producers of “The Gong Show” and “Boy Meets Boy”. And then I remembered that it was Prince night and “Alphabet Street” was blaring on the PA so I drank some water and danced my ass off just the same. And I did nothing the next day but eat microwave popccorn and watch the “MI-5” marathon. I didn’t know if the cute actors who play Danny and Tom on the show were gay or not, and I didn’t care. Frankly, I didn’t care if Thom and his friends were gay, and I never would. A cute boy is a cute boy is a cute boy, and and if he’s nice and funny and smart even better, and that’s always alright with me.

Cheers,
Jasmine

“I just don’t get it! She seems totally uninterested in me, despite my smothering obsessiveness!”
(Cabin Boy)

*playlist*
Monna Bell – Estaba Escrito; Liz Phair – Firewalker; Tori Amos – Love Song; Morrissey – Why Don’t You Find Out for Yourself?; My Bloody Valentine – Swallow; Wilco – War On War; The Miracles – The Love I Saw in You Was Just a Mirage

*links*
http://movies.go.com/movies/U/utitledbeforesunrisesequel_2004 (yay!)
http://www.nytimes.com/2003/09/07/magazine/07QUESTIONS.html
http://www.northeast-nc.com/dismalswamp (I wanna visit)
http://www.whereswilly.com

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~ by Jasmine on September 8, 2003.

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