October 1, 2009

I'd never eaten Concord grapes. Georgi and Joe both spoke of their difficulty with seeds. I enjoyed the sensation. The rubbery skin with the fleshy center with the crunch of the seed and the sweet-tart taste. Why had I never eaten them before? Suddenly, the flavor of grape soda and candy and juice made sense. That taste came from Concord grapes. I never knew.

I also never knew how allergic I am to the house Upstate. Having been gone for quite some time I returned this past weekend to a constant barrage of sneezes. At times it was laughable and other times it was downright annoying. Ben had never listened to me when I said that I was allergic to those Greek shag rugs. Yes, at the time, I was not really pleading for him to let me get rid of them because of an allergic reaction. It had everything to do with their shedding. Which they still do and, yes, that still makes me mad. Especially when all weekend long, while I strut around like Donna fucking Reed, the last thing I want to see is a clump of fur on my Marcel Wanders sofas. But anyway. There was something more to my dislike of those rugs. They do make me sneeze! I had not sneezed in months! And then suddenly I return and sneeze.

I do adore getting to know people better. I've always said I collect people like others collect stamps. Or pets. Or toys. Or guns. I love people and this weekend I found myself closer to some new friends and I like that. I like that space where you know a new friend is about to become a best friend and you don't rush it. You just let it take natural steps. And this weekend that happened.

Also happening this weekend were a few times when the cultural differences between Georgi and I became an issue. Not problematic. But in the open. And I don't think too often of the vast differences in our life experiences and upbringings, because, really, we two are one. We share way too many similarities and laughs for those things to ever surface. But they did this weekend. And they're cute. Frustrating and cute. And I think of him and me and how different we are and how far away we became men from each other and I am comforted by the thought that we're all, everyone, really, at the end of the day, not too dissimilar from the next. We too are one.

Georgi's traveled far from his home. And as my last musing here suggested, though 180 miles only, I have too. And he claims to have been guided by something greater. That along life's journey someone's looked after him. And when he says this my heart pumps madly because I too feel the same. We both lost our fathers way too soon. I can't help but think their energy force has played a role in all our good fortunes. The least they could do for leaving so quickly.

And speaking of spirits and forces and nature and dead fathers, I told my houseguests this weekend about the ghosts I'd seen upstate. Alireza's seen them too, so hush. I talk about them mostly to fuck with people. I enjoy that, you see. The truth about the ghosts: I have not seen them in a while. I want that house to be haunted, but they're gone. I wonder what I did. I wonder if they left when Ben and I split up. I wonder if I was just having nightmares/dreams back then.

Last night at a party for the Sundance Channel I was chatting with Christopher Barry. He introduced me to Lux from Fleshbot, which got me talking about Jonno, who I miss. And then Lynn Yaeger came and she is one of my idols and I gushed for a minute. We talked about what the party was for, a new Sundance series. And Christopher said that World of Wonder did the show. He pointed to Fenton Bailey. I ran over and said hello. Lynn and Fenton in one room. My little heart, pitter-pattering. Fenton told me some story but it was too loud. And he asked me, well at least I think he asked me, if I was making big bucks blogging now.

Nope, Fenton. Never have. Probably never will. But it won't stop me. It's like breathing. I need it. It's like singing in the shower. It never gets old. But when you want to option the story of a blogger for TV, let me know.

We left the party, Georgi and I, and had a 5 course meal, unexpectedly, at a little Spanish place in the village. We did not plan on such a romantic and tasteful meal to end the night. Someone else, maybe our dads, maybe not, must have steered us there. Sangria stained (concord grapes, maybe?) lips smiling across the table at one another.