|Tan breve este momento
||[Nov. 5., 2019|04:00 pm]
I am still recovering from the weekend.
Mostly from Saturday. Sometimes the conversation at cocktail night is so good we lose track of time, but I don't think we've ever lost track of it the way we did this last time. Falling back didn't help; a couple folks were surprised to look at their phones and see it was only 1:30 a.m. when it was the second time that night it was 1:30 a.m.
Upon reflection, I can see a number of distinct phases. One starts with the arrival of my college friend Guge and two of her high school classmantes, all of whom were coming from a memorial service for a fourth classmate. One of these is a gay man who's on the spectrum and--apparently--hot for me. The other helped me coordinate Monshu's cremation and memorial service.
It was she who had the idea to tell real-life ghost stories and the gay guy had a doozy. I lowered the lights, lit a skull candle, and he told about seeing a ghost in the restroom of a local restaurant when he was seven. "It was a just a void," he told us. At the time he'd been panicked, and of course none of the adults he told believed him.
The next day, he discovered that it had followed him home.
For nearly ten years, he saw the mysterious floating shape intermittently, never talking about it to anyone. When the cats where in the room, they would watch it, too, confirming to him that this was more than a figment. Then finally, one Christmas morning, his father said something to his mother which revealed that they'd been seeing it all along, too. The whole family had and had never spoken of it. He wept with relief.
None of them ever saw it again.
After the women left, things quieted down for a bit, but predictably veered more toward the sexual. This only intensified when a new acquaintance from Wichita arrived with a drunk friend in tow, and they were all thirsty. It got raunchy; this is one of the only times ever I could imagine this gathering mutating into a sex party. And talk got real. We went from sexual positions to discussing the evolution of the notion of the gay community.
To complicate things, the Scouser who I'd nailed back in July was there and I really wanted to nail him again. Ultimately, it looked like the only way to swing that would be to escort everyone to the bar (Ghost Boy kept insisting) and double back--which we gladly did, but it added at least another half hour onto an already long evening. By the time he left, it was nearly 4 a.m. CST.
Maybe I could have slept in more, but after about five hours, I was itching to start on the day, since it was a pretty one and I had plans. I left about 12:30 and made terrific time to Pilsen. At ten to two, Nuphy and I met at the new crepería attached to Panadaería Nuevo León, where the portions are enormous.
It's a bit sad to see him navigating with a cane these days, but at least his mind still seems plenty sharp. We had plenty of time to talk as we made slow progress down 18th to the museum. The crowds were huge but thinned out massively by 4 p.m. By that time, we'd managed to find and lose everyone in our group at least once.
bunj was there with e., who sadly couldn't stick around. innerdoggie and tyrannio made it, too, along with lhn and prilicla. It was an outing like we haven't had in years and, despite my tiredness, I enjoyed every moment of it. Pilsen is a feast for the eyes and spirit and we made our merry way to the restaurant (Nuphy took the bus and beat us there) stopping frequently to comment and investigate.
The restaurant--a new place Nuphy wanted to try--wasn't all that. It advertised itself as a cocktail bar, with a huge list of margaritas and mojitos, but after bunj tried to order one of the latter, they announced that they were out of mint. The interesting array of tacos was tasty, but the sauces were tainted with unnecessary jalapeno and my duck was cold and overcooked.
But it all hardly mattered. We chatted away about food, death, and everything in between. It's amazing to me the comfort level you can have with people that you've known for nearly three decades; as I gazed around the room, I felt a twinge at the thought of each of these beautiful people departing the world forever.
But for now, they're all here, and Day of the Dead was a timely reminder to keep doing things with them while they are. Normally a Sunday after a big night out is an emotional nadir for me, but the lift I got for those hours together carried me over it and even lasted into the next day.