Saturday

Eppich House - Arthur Erickson


Can't you see?
Love is the drug for me...

A few weeks ago, the band I am in was playing a small 2nd floor club downtown, and I met this blonde woman who seemed lovely. We flirted back and forth a bit, and there was an obvious attraction, not as intense as my lust for the asian girl from the opening act; who never took her sunglasses off, and kept telling me about the song they cover by, "The Animah's! The Animah's!" but an attraction that left me wanting more.

Last night was Frannie's birthday party. I made her a CD of sailing songs, because she has been taking sailing lessons. There are a lot of sailing songs, all of them as cheesy as sunset photography. Anyway, the blonde was there. I was told she would be at Frannie's party and was looking forward to resuming things where they had left off. I think I had forgotten what she really looked like and had managed to create an image in my head that suited my needs. Expectations are evil. I was immediately disappointed. She had that art girl wackiness I didn't pick up on last time, maybe it was the white glasses, or the shoes, but I knew right away that the charade was over, although, she did have nice legs. So I went up and chatted with her anyway, and she was totally rude to me. She made fun of my current interest in a Roxy Music, ridiculed my intense social life, after I raved about xiu xiu she explained the concept of EMO to me like I was retarded , and was disgusted with my attraction to nice shoes, specifically women's heels.

Other than being depressed that I had wasted so much of my time thinking dreamy thoughts about some mean blonde girl, the party was fantastic. I met a friend of Dave Eggers, and drank scotch till 430am with a sommelier at one of the hometowns finest dining rooms. Apparently it's all about matching food with the right level of acidity. As long as it's cold, and cheap, I am smiling, but I didn't tell him that. I went mad on an art director from Manhattan about DIY typography, started jumping up and down while talking about my favorite Arthur Erickson house, and was told revealing stories about a neighborhood I used to live in from someone that had lived there since they were 7. But of course my eye would trail over to the blonde every so often with a feeling of melancholy that I am living in a vulnerable and uncertain macrocosm of loneliness.

Anyway, I am going to another party tonight, east side, character home, patio, and a hot tub. I suppose by 7 or 8 I will be ready to try all over again, it's my nature, I am driven.