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This one will be first person voice my god the... well maybe I'll try just the first bit....
"She was bummed after her long-lost now found pal Victory left the City on some lame pretense to get back to LA...." the second voice immediately puts me in this whimsical justifying narration....the writer me. and the character gets another layer:
Look, I was fucking devastated.
Victoria made me almost mad because it was so obvious that she had so many arian* rules for me to follow and sure it was with love and ultimately useful to manifest positivity and all that I'm sure....yet it just felt of all the things she kept listing as bullshit, I sank smaller and smaller as we sat in a waterfront chi chi place with her watching me drink a champagne and a beer (a non wino in wine country....) while we shared oysters and something fried. Thanks to my aunt I was able to unclench the leash of poverty Damocles on my neck for a millisecond and pay the tab (god how old Christ-y used to love pays that tab eh)...
V headed back with her st ives or something huge emotional support dog to her borrowed nob hill pad, and I made my way to the subway next to the Hyatt to which I had wanted to use her as an excuse to return. I had to pee, I love going to bars by myself. The math was done. I ordered truffled cheese dip French fries and a pilsner and then headed to the can. I was fucking devastated yet it made sense - so many disappointments. This particular one I was "is nothing sacred anymore" involved design and architecture.
She was bummed. On her way back from the salles des Bains, she offered and was accepted to take a photo of an aging buck and his son and son's young buck pal. She sidled back to the bar and waited until he was finished with the tourists - with the smaller emotional support dog to her right (they're big huh - these support dogs.
"So, how long have you been working here?"
"Oh, 10 years". All of the restaurant and hotel people are still union in San Francisco, so it's nice they are paid well and happy and stable in their jobs and as always like hires like.
She asked. "So did you remember the fairy lights - the string of lights that came down from the floor to ceiling?"
He paused. "Ah no, people asking me that from time to time. No, they were gone just before I came on."
She finished her drink. Another death. She'd never need to return here again. The vibe still was held by the meticulous staff, yet the marriage to the architecture... le sigh.
oui
Victoria, so much bullshit.
You would have thought you thought I was bullshit. It was super obvious you thought I was bullshit and wasn't creating the alchemal transnarrative I needed to build a new life (come abundant wealth and cocreative bliss in the upper low country). When you saw me, you were my lifeline. The first human to see me in my chosen domain. And I felt so rejected by you. It is what it is
The part that you don't recall from your own divorce time is that
I'm at the bottom so it's not super affecting at the moment.
Try Grace. Now there's an amie wound that will bear lancing.
When I had seen that Hyatt last, it had been magic like being in an oasis - wide open spaces and forty stories tall with fairy lights in thousands of strings hanging from floor to ceiling (frankly it was a bit reminiscent of the EPCOt architecture in a good way.)
Now it was... space and beige - if you like that sort of thing.
*a star voodoo sign that means "I'm a baby and everyone attend to me - it's simple!"
Today's worry cat and money. And yes, I too have that but mine is "RESCUE ME FINALLY". Victoria I'll make a new one "Grace lead me home."
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