I slept through everyone's departures this morning, and this afternoon. I finally tripped downstairs at 3:30 to find Ike cleaning out the refrigerators. We're the only two of the housemates left for break, which neither of us really mind. We're the "do our own thing" kids, the ones who are perfectly content to listen to Mingus or watch old Simpsons episodes on Friday nights while the rest of the gang heads out to find a party, or play flashlight tag, or debate in our point-counterpoint room.
still, when 11 of us engaged in the taboo-game-to-end-all-taboo games last night, I was glad to come out of my little cave for a bit. Final score: Big Muffins 91, Killer Crullers 84. Or something like that. The littler team lost. But I did guess "Mount Rushmore!" after David had said only "politicians."
Be proud, Mom. Very proud.
I was walking to the CFA for jazz orchestra on Tuesday, Lisa came running up with Alex as they were heading to the sculpture studio and Zilkha Galleries, and we all turned to see Dave hobbling after us, requesting that we kind souls wait for him as he was going to his experimental music class. Laurel was there too, I think, heading off to the dance studios.
It is such an experience to be friends with such this bunch. Of our 10 housemates, we have a pianist/vocalist/clarinetist (that's me), an ethnomusicologist more or less obsessed with Indian drumming and music (Aaron), an experimental composer/guitarist/clarinetist/radio DJ (Dave), a trumpeter (Jon), a classical guitarist (Ike), a painter/dancer (Alex), a dancer/columnist (Michael), and three writers (Matt, Yaron, Robyn). That makes 10 artsy-fartsers. This is very drama-filled living situation. Visitors call us "intense," or comment on how it's possible to live in a house with such "strong personalities." Hahaha.
And, for all of us, this creative side is only one of our many identities and passions, leisurely and academic. S'wonderful.
So, if I must be thankful for something tomorrow, I'll be thankful for B6, and the honorary residents of B1, because they should count too (don't even get me started on what they do - film, poetry, publishing, music, dance....). Walking to the CFA with ya'll made me realize how great we all are, most especially when we are all together.
Extra thanks to Yaron and Alex for hearing me out last week. Ya'll are the best of friends. "I'm gonna be fine!"
A thank you to Jay for helping me realize a passion I had been hiding all this time. What would have happened to me and my music had I not met you?
A thanks to the Adams (both K. and H.) for being my rocks in California. Thank god for that Eastern/Pacific time split, eh? Three cheers for free nightly minutes!
A thanks to my mom for always packing sticks of gum in with my Monterey County absentee voter ballots.
Thanks to my dad for making me "the ugliest collage ever," and being so incredibly proud of it. It's on my door now.
Thanks to my brother for finally talking to me like a normal human being. You're a good kid after all.
Thanks to Ike for cleaning the entire kitchen today. You are a god.
Thanks to Halbe for keeping romance alive for the rest of us who had lost hope.
Thanks to the extended family here for taking me in after not even speaking for a decade.
Alright, that's enough. I've got to shower and pack. I'm heading to my aunt's for the night. Happy Thanksgiving. See you in December!
¶ 16:11
Yaron and I, in what is becoming a Sunday morning tradition, went to O'Rourke's for breakfast.
We were sitting at the granite-slab counter, dining on spinach omlettes, poached eggs, homemade bread and hash, when our regular waitress approached us with a request, leaning in like she had a secret to tell.
"I feel bad, because you're here so often, but could you scoot down one seat for a group of 2?"
We laughed, reassured her it was okay, and moved over to let in the other customers. I took Yaron's seat, he sat next to the elderly chap reading the Hartford paper.
Hey, we've become regulars.
O'Rourke's is an amazing place. Sitting at the counter is always a special treat; through the gap next to the grilltop, you can watch Brian create his masterpieces at breakneck speed. I've never had a better breakfast than his. If you ask for it, Brian will even come to your booth and interview you for your tastes so that he can make a personalized breakfast - no two are ever the same. Off the weekend menu, you can get an omlette with smoked salmon, gouda, and asparagus, or if you'd prefer something sweet, sweet potato pancakes with toasted almonds and homemade applesauce. You always get a plate of free sweet bread to start your meal, and the coffee mugs fit perfectly in your hand. The lines are always long regardless of the time of morning, and the inside of the car sizzles and hums with conversation and skillet grease.
Yaron and I have an idea to thank Brian for what he does. We'll see what happens. If it works, more on this later.
¶ 12:48
