Weird night.
I rear-ended someone. Slamming the breaks = crash. Ok ok. There's a fact I won't be forgetting.
This morning seven girls plus Kevin Davis came into my office for the gender reveal. Silly as it sounds I almost cried when Elvira said, "Let the nurse open it!" What an honor. There are two videos showing me lifting the lid to a small golden gift box and immediately covering my face as everyone in the office screams. Seven high school girls plus boy plus me can make a lot of noise, let me tell you.
It's a girl! Jenny seemed disappointed.
"It's whatever," she said as everyone hugged and cried, cried and hugged. She's so tiny, when I went to hug her it felt like I was bending down to hold a grade schooler.
"It's not whatever, it's great. It's going to be great. This is so good." I kept smiling and embracing her, but there was no word for great or good or dope or sick or tight that seemed to fit or work. I never conceived of wanting to have a kid in any real way, and I never put much thought into preferring one sex over another. In my mind it always just seemed like fear, but I don't think that's quite right for her.
The way she acts and the things she does amaze me all the time. She reminds me of Daniella and Griselda and Imelda (Dang I just noticed that) and lots of other girls I've been lucky enough to call friends in my life. There's something specific about the combination of face and voice and expression these girls possess that makes them strong, beautiful and, in Jenny Perez's words, real bad bitches. I always aspired to be one, but I think it takes a certain willingness to surrender that I have yet to cultivate. Here's to surrender.
And here's a bad bitch being painted by Diego Rivera.
She said it best: "Soy mas cabrona que bonita, y mira que soy muy bonita."
I read once that Juan Gabriel secretly bought this painting and now it's sitting in an apartment somewhere in New York. Hoard that diva art, queen.
* * *
Last night we watched Phantom of the Opera. I am so shook that I went this long without having seen this before. The music was all familiar, and it now seems to me that the only reason for anyone not to like it is just to not have seen it yet.
This weekend is Chicago.
Connor had told us a while ago that this one takes place above JVC offices. Sounds kinda whack but I'm picturing the party happening in what I'm 100 percent sure is the radio station taken hostage in the movie Airheads. I'm also picturing lots and lots of red felt hats.
* * *
Lots of time has elapsed on this one.
Today I went home early. Angel and I had a long long phone call. She's worried about choosing a school and place to live for the next three years. California is where her family is, but Texas ... he's in Texas.
"If I leave it'll really be over."
I told her that unless he's dead it doesn't have to be over, but maybe it does have to be.
Does it? I asked. Silence. She answered.
Does it? I asked. Silence. She answered.
We talked about everything. I told her I wish we could spend Christmas together. "You know the high key saddest thing about you breaking up with him? Not going to his aunt's house again with all that food on Christmas." Real talk, sis. We should call ahead and say we're just swinging by for a plate. Of course it can be to go. We gotchu.
She told me about cups that are full and cups that are empty. She said that even when we were growing up and fighting one another she always felt like we were ok. Like whatever we were arguing about would ultimately fade and we would be left sitting side by side, one resting her head on the other one's shoulder.
"This summer was bullshit," she blurted from what seemed like nowhere.
"Yeah it was," I pictured her face getting scrunched like it does when she wants to cry a little but mostly hug.
"I love you," we both said
and obviously fainted simultaneously from all the emotion.
No comments:
Post a Comment