Starting
a blog a week after Christine and how weird we both felt about it after talking
about it for years.
Meeting
up with Kendall and Jerrod at MFAH for the King Tut Exhibit, and freaking out
about how much of the history made sense because of my Art History class the
semester before. And that Hatshepsut (the bad-a ladypharaoh I did my
presentation on) was there.
Always
being aware that he never held my hand.
Collecting
too much paper and ephemera for so much art journaling.
Seeing
Pablo Francisco live and thinking that it was decidedly the worst comedy show
I’d ever been to, and that the local college groups the year before were much more
fun. My lipstick was wrong and I felt so small.
Late
movie nights in cozy apartments with raccoon pillows not actually made out of
raccoons.
My
parents celebrating 25 years of marriage and me crying so hard over a pie
because it was such a foreign concept; being with someone for so long and still
making it work.
Fishing
off the pier with the guys that night and smelling like shrimp and fish guts
with wind in my face and being so glad I wore the boots. And seeing a ribbon
fish for the first time, and feeling so alive.
Hearing
the the tv from the kitchen while dying paper doilies for Sophie’s bridal
shower. And how we all sang and laugh-cried to the Partridge Family and the
Osmonds and The Monkees and Rod Stewart while we decorated and cooked the night
before.
That
night my worlds converged and I just kept drinking. The bitterness was
deafening, and I hated the kitchen, the bamboo room.
Driving
to our first Renegade Craft Fair and laughing hysterically at the sad state of
our ‘bargain’ hotel, crayon on the bathroom door, and how Mark just so happened
to be in town that first night we ran up and down 6th. And then
exploring the fair with Christine and taking so many photos and talking to so
many beautiful vendors and meeting some blog crushes and dying a little.
Dinner at
the original Kerbey Lane later and asking our sweet waitress Susan for an empty
bowl and being nervous but thankful because I couldn’t eat off the menu. And
feeling strong later with him and Christine as we all ate together and it felt
completely normal.
New moments
at the Sundance Film theater, and familiar ones at River Oaks.
Experiencing
the NST auto drift competition in a romper and headband the same day he got a
haircut and it was the coolest thing I’d seen in awhile.
Having
mildly invasive surgery for the first time, everything happening at once, only
a week after I’d been officially diagnosed…and everything finally making sense
after all these terrible years. And crying a lot to five different medical
professionals and mainly saying “thank you…thank you…”
Riding in
the Datsun after a shoot and being afraid I’d smell like gasoline or be
asphyxiated even with the windows down…and then having to steer in neutral up
the driveway into the garage after it died.
Slow
dancing in silent gazebos.
Photographing
Sophie and Josh’s beautiful outdoor wedding, despite having zero credentials to
do so, and having an absolute blast.
Filling
my heart with the spirit of Record Store Day, thumbing crazily through the long
wall of dollar bins, and hugging special releases to my chest. I remember
loving everyone in the room, and talking, and feeling like I’d found My People.
Holy
Mountain surprise and Sidebar realtalks with feathers that fall and fade,
realizing what perfect timing it was, despite what we were saying, despite
singing happy birthday to a girl we didn’t know. And joyriding elevators to
find my car, and confessing things in heels to people who love the Beatles and
swear against Led Zeppelin.
The day
we did two new and one old-new thing. That was a good day.
Happy-crying
over every letter I got from her, especially the one that came a few months
after she stopped responding, and how much I wanted to hug her when I finally
found out what was going on.
Feeling a
communal holiday spirit in the frozen hands and toes despite the vodka and
meeting the beautiful people of his world between local Christmas songs.
Accidentally
starting a film camera collection, that now also includes three instant film
cameras. And despite this fact, capturing some of the greatest moments with
disposables because I was am obsessed.
Surviving the end of the world in a swirl of lights and color at a gone party at the Museum of Fine Arts.
Seeing
Rum & Vodka at Stages Repertory Theater and feeling way too proud and Andy
getting a stellar review in Houston Press.
Falling
in love with Liberty Station, especially the night Ceeplus was spinning and I
ran to ask him what song that was, and did double takes because the guy near
the booth looked like Steve Aoki, and how we beat those guys at foosball.
So much gesso on my hands, feeling the power of paint on my fingers again.
That trip
to Galveston, and how we ruined the end of both nights, but the days were
beautiful and sacred, and how we had this perfect view of the beach, and I
actually felt like I was on vacation, and I was so thankful for you. And how I
begged you to stop at that Antique Gallery before we left town, and you did,
and you found the Minnesota.
Squeezing
my eyes shut against the roar of planes taking off above me and feeling the
barrier break down to my toes, knowing wholeness for an instant.
Staying
in that hotel alone, and feeling completely independent and safe, except that I
questioned the high ceilings. And conversations with Shareef because he was
super helpful and such a character and worked the front desk both times I
checked in.
The night
Nick drove down because I needed a hug, and I needed a shoulder, and I needed
air. So we drove.
Seeing
Helen again at Holiday Renegade and falling completely in love with her new
designs, and so much nostalgia I could’ve broken open right there, and looking
for the Ex Libris Anonymous booth because I wanted a Nancy Drew journal.
Catching
up and laughing hysterically with Lemon, Adam, and James; seeing their new
place/my old place, and ending up at a random backyard bonfire that was just a
holy beautiful mess of love.
The Saturday
evening on the Strand that filled my heart.
Airguitaring
to/making fun of Foreigner in Nick’s apartment while he baked cheesebread and
we worked on a 500 piece iridescent Star Wars puzzle, laughing at everything
and enjoying silence. And sitting on his stoop later and thinking this really
is the perfect spot but understanding the emptiness.
Two
stepping at a country bar but mainly just sliding around in heels and thinking
how ridiculous the whole thing felt.
Proud-crying
while shooting my brother and his friends at a coffee shop show, and singing
silently along. Proud-crying again at Dunn Bros open mic night when my little
sister sang with my brother. And proud-crying for the millionth time when
Farewell Abigail killed the talent show.
The look
on my great-grandmother’s face and knowing she was an hour and a half away,
despite the salvaged party and the hordes of people loving on her. Her heart was
with the people who couldn’t.
Dancing
the night away with Mark at the millionth Spazmatics show this year and having
the time of my life; so barefoot onstage and liberated I didn’t even have
words…all I could think was “this is the New Years Eve of my dreams”…in
mid-December. And how he wanted a mix of 80s music after because it’s
infectious.
Driving
that same route over and over again in rush hour traffic, always feeling
wrecked before and after going into the city. Sometimes the music filled my
bones; sometimes I drove in silence and screamed into the steering wheel.
Psychedelic
backyard party that was actually Dan Electro’s Guitar Bar, when we finally went
because Handsome Ransom was playing, and I dressed accordingly this time, and it was home.
Staring
at the entrails of my old laptop while you tried to resuscitate it to sell,
trying to hold a straight face and watching everything implode behind your eyes
as you turned some frivolous screw over and over and over because neither
of us knew how to handle what was happening. And how we broke character when it
was done with key card complete and the confusion that followed.
Finding
seawall graffiti that I believed with my whole heart and that’s why I snuck a
photo. It was the perfect day.
So many
nights of digging my fingers into the carpet during closeted phonecalls to Cara
about everything, and realizing she’s been the best thing to happen to me this
year. I thank God for knowing her.
xo
