Hello friends! So it’s Friday night. Today was payday, the planet didn't collide with an asteroid, and I
came home to this incredible care package from my forever Valentine:
Now I’m wearing my sweatpants, sipping Valentine’s homemade
booze and watching The Sarah Silverman Program. I’m not sure how this is my
life, but it’s pretty fucking phenomenal. The chainsaw grumble of Doris’
snoring couldn’t be more soothing. As some of you may have noticed, yesterday
was Valentine’s Day. I hope you felt loved in every single sense of the word,
because I know I did.
This Valentine’s Day involved delicious food [note: I cooked, so maybe I’m a little
biased], homemade caramel apple pecan pie, and amazing company. You guys,
did you even know that caramel is a thing that can be made from scratch?
Apparently it’s just butter, sugar and heavy cream. Or in this case coffee
creamer, which is essentially the same thing as heavy cream? At any rate, it
was fucking delicious. I ate my weight in baked goods, got a geography lesson,
sat on Lew’s couch listening to stories about J’s mom and lemon jolly ranchers.
I hugged Mo’ Money all the times because I could. All in all a successful night
of low key revelry.
I didn't realize V-Day was such a loaded holiday for me until I actually thought back on the last few years. And then I had all the feels and maybe wept openly for awhile. It's cool, Doris didn't judge me too harshly. She was just mildly concerned.
 |
| This is Doris offering to hold my hair back if I puke tonight. |
Last year Valentine’s Day: we ate greasy cheeseburgers at
the Mo Club and watched a burlesque show. We went to frozen yogurt. I didn’t
have a date, or I did but I don’t remember who it was because we were the
Forever Alone Klub. We were happy enough being a
little sad together. She wasn't talking to me, but I pretended that was ok. The year before that was the wine tasting. We were
children in formal wear, but we sat at that table like adults. We ate the five
courses and drank too much wine. That night she drove us home and couldn’t
remember her hands on the wheel or her wheels on the freeway. But we made it to
my house, and I remembered my hands on her body regardless. Remembered her head
on my pillow.
Earlier, 2010: I met my forever Valentine over a beer pong
table and I couldn’t remember her face the next day. We went to the Vagina
Monologues, sat with my girlfriend and the girl I thought I loved. I adore Valentine.
She has scraped gravel out of my teeth and loaned me her alarm clock. She has
listened to me sob myself to sleep, and made sure I got to work on time the
next day. I love her because sometimes I’ll be walking down the street and I miss
her in a way I can’t quite grasp. That nostalgic aching sort of missing. We were
different people when we knew each other.
I’ve lived in Portland for nearly one year. Last February everything
I owned was packed into the back the Biscuit. One year ago I drove 582 miles to
pursue my career as a rap artist. Clearly that is really panning out for
me. But seriously, last year I left Missoula with no fucking idea what I was
going to do with my life. And to be honest, I still have no fucking idea what I’m
going to do with my life. But I’m paying my bills on time and I’m well fed and
I’m writing poetry and ridiculous blogs semi-regularly. I’m still breathing,
and some days that’s the bravest thing a human being can do.
I hope you’re all still breathing. I hope you all know how
much I love you. Seriously, creeps. My heart feels so warm and swollen every
time I think about you. Thank you for sticking with me!
-b
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