Merry this, merry that

no energy. no, none at all. i think i set myself up for this one. i only got four hours of sleep last night, and slightly more the night before, but oh, it was worth it. parties, people, stories, friends. iZone photos are best for drunken portraits in low light.

it’s amazing to me how large this city is and how little of it i’ve explored. it makes me feel okay that i’m still here. you think you know LA, but you really don’t. no, there is diddy riese and her $1 ice cream sandwiches. there is the cemetary where marilyn monroe and truman capote lay peacefully. there is vibrant little tokyo and k-town where communities of people are always making noise. (saturday night, clomping on hardwood floors and karaoke bouncing off walls. sort of like a lip-synch party, but not really, not as cool.)

this boy i met, he told me i needed to get out of LA more. he’s a new yorker, and he says LA folk don’t leave the area where they call home, but i do. or, i am trying.

sometimes, i don’t know what comes over me. this morning i almost cried in rite-aid. lisa and i were in line behind an old man. his pale yellow shirt was so thin it was tearing inbetween seems and had been mended with multi-colored thread. he couldn’t hear well and his voice trembled, a combination that made communicating virtually impossible. the cashier didn’t know how to respond, the people behind me were gawking, and i just wanted to hold his hand and take him home, wherever he belonged. he reminded me of my grandfather, and i almost began to cry.

my mom and i have these conversations once in a while. she’ll say, “i miss tom,” and i will respond, “i miss grandma,” and that is all we say, because we need not say more than that. if we do, we will both make each other cry and we don’t want that. we are both very sentimental.

whatever bit of christmas spirit i had last week has dissipated and been replaced with ennui. i need to write cards, wrap gifts, string lights, but they are all piled in the corner of my bedroom. i don’t even know where my holiday music is hiding. we have a christmas-twig-in-a-pot (“it’s a baby christmas tree,” said lisa, but really, it’s not) on our dining room table, and that is all. merry christmas.

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