Wednesday, March 6th 2002 - Fortune Cookie
My apologies on the delay in entries lately. I had to take some time to recover from the weekend, and I've been hella busy at work with my new job, and the journal suffers. So! The weekend. Even a few days later, my mind goes first to the hangover I had on Sunday instead of the good time I had Saturday night. Perhaps it was the magically refilling wine glasses. Or the presence of Karaoke making me want to bolster my confidence. Or it might have been the fact that I wanted to get good and drunk and have a good time at Jenn and Kenny's wedding. I did. I got very drunk and had an excellent time. But I paid dearly the next morning/ afternoon/ evening/ the day after . . . . Southern California. Hot. Bright sun. No shade. Even in the shade you need more shade. I got sunburned cheeks through my big floppy hat. People didn't really pay much attention to me; I think I'm too fat to be appraised the way Susan or Karen noticed they were. Or perhaps I was too busy not enjoying the heat and/or wondering how many sad starlets surrounded me to notice other people's reactions to me. Anyway. The wedding was lovely. Gorgeous. So many people dressed in the Asian theme! Jenn was glowing and beautiful in her long, fitted red dress and "Phoebe" hair; Kenny was handsome in his gold jacket. I hope they put pictures up so I can link to them. Our table had me, Tim, Susan, Jed, Karen, Par, and Tot. At times we were more childish than the adolescent boys the next table over; more than once a glass heart went spinning off our table as we flicked them back and forth in our game of random table hockey. I know we splintered a few, too. I didn't dance as much as I usually do at weddings, mainly because I enjoyed the company at my table so much. I did swing dance with Susan, bringing back sensory memories of dancing similarly with Kellie when it was slow at the pizza parlor where we both worked, something I hadn't thought about in awhile. It took a minute to remember the steps, but soon I was swinging her around, twirling and ending the whole thing with a dip. Whee! I joined Karen for a duet of "Love Shack"; I once won a lip-sync contest with that song (with Tara and Darrell my freshman year of college, for those old friends who have an idea who those people are), so I know the words and timing really well. Way fun. Later I downed several glasses of wine in a very short amount of time as I prepared to sing "Into the Groove" by Madonna. The waiting was too much, however, and the group wanted to leave and I didn't want to sing it that badly, so we all stumbled back to the hotel. Hanging out in our hotel room, the wine started catching up with me. I'm told I was a very happy drunk. All I remember is lying on a bed with Tim, looking at Susan and Karen and Jed on the other bed and whispering to him how pretty they all were. He tells me that I went on and on and ON about their beauty, which I don't remember, but imagine is accurate. I guess at one point he tried to shush me and I replied with "that bad, huh?" and kept right on expounding on their loveliness. Hell, it wasn't just wine-goggles; I have some very attractive friends. I'm told we all tried on one another's glasses. I'm told I didn't embarrass myself the way I was afraid I would. I'm told I was conscious up until everyone left. I wish I remembered more of it. No, what I remember is waking up at 6:15am with a pounding headache. I remember throwing up so much that I threw up bile. For hours. And hours. At noon Tim bundled me in our car and we started our 6.5 hour roadtrip home. Not thinking clearly, either of us, he handed me a Victoria Secret bag to throw up in. Not two minutes on the road (not even on the highway yet) I discovered that paper lingerie bags do not hold stomach acids. Huh. Ok, that's it. I will spare you the rest of the gory details. Let's just say that eventually I kept ice water down, then sprite, then a coke (needed caffeine) then some wheat thins. I'm still dehydrated. My skin is ashy and my cuticles are still barely showing. My stomach is still sensitive, especially to jarring movement. It's Wednesday. Sigh. Must watch out for that kind of drinking. I mean, really, I'm old enough to know better. I think, because I don't really drink that heavily anymore, I wasn't as prepared for drunkenness; had I been in college still (well, Junior or Senior years when I was wiser) I would've known to make myself throw up while I still had alcohol in my stomach, thus avoiding some of the process the next day. Ah well. So, that was my weekend. More or less. Aren't you all glad I told you about it? I'm gonna end with a post I've already put up on Greg's discussion board, as it deals with writing, and, more specifically, the way I've been writing lately: Lately I've been writing in short bursts too. While I'm waiting for my lunch at the Vietnamese place, I'll jot down a 100 words. A couple hundred on BART train commutes each way. Fifty in a waiting room. It adds up. It adds up, and it's exciting, realizing that slowly but surely you're creating something, nurturing it and making it grow. I could get addicted to this kind of output; it seems to encourage itself. I used to complain I had no time to write, and I'd wait around for an uninterrupted 2-hour block. Once I got the time, more often than not I'd sit down and stare at the screen, writer's block making the precious time useless. Now, when I get those magical two hours, I usually sit down and type in what I've written recently (all these little word counts are by hand). Things get a revision while they're being typed in, another revision later. Even the long blocks of time are more productive, now that I use all my little ones. Here's to the little blocks of time!	Exercise Log: Retching for 8 hours is like doing lots and lots and LOTS of situps. Yes, it is. Writing log: None over the weekend, but Monday night I got inspired by Nalo Hopkinson's "Precious" (brilliant!) and I stayed up late thinking about the fairy tale story I've wanted to write for a long time now. About 1200 words written on that (working title, "Princess story"). Have made some structural decisions on the novel & hope to get back to it soon. Current Publications: "How to Suck" reprinted in From Porn to Poetry: Clean Sheets Celebrates the Erotic Mind I'm currently reading: Books on Tape (usually while exercising): Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins.
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