Sunday, June 05, 2005 No Money Means No Cigarettes

I'm feeling rather reflective right now...that's one of the better times to write; when you're inspired.  And I just finished watching a movie that furthered that inspiration.  I think it was called "Everyday People."  I am broke .  I didn't break even with my bills and now I'm paying the price.  Ha Ha! Paying- that's rich. Anyway, for being as broke as I am...my weekend was fantastic.  I was able to see some of my old friends at the Living Room; played cards- something I haven't done in a long time.  Then, I went to this Hip Hop producer's house to drink and party.  That was cool. We ate his chicken.  At this party we ended up driving with the producer to La Jolla.  It was great that someone else had the wheel for once and I got to sit back and enjoy the scenery.  It never surprises me that a lot of places lose their familiarity when you change your perspective from front to back seat.  My God, how I have missed the ocean.  I always want to go to the ocean and enjoy its ambiance, but no one ever wants to go with me.  This time, I was able to see it and all its glorious vastness.  It was moving.  The water splashed coldly against my feet...it takes you away, you know.  I felt like I should have listened to my friend talk some more about his ex and their experience at the beach.  He started to talk about her again...I think he needs to.  It's healthy to have someone listen.  But for some reason, I couldn't do it this time.  Sometimes, I'm sad that the beach will never be the same for him anymore.  He'll always be thinking about her and their moment.  I subconsciously shrugged the conversation off. Anyway, we ended up driving around La Jolla for 3 hours, supposedly.  Well, I fell asleep, so I don't know for sure.  The producer bought us cigarettes and provided food and booze...God bless him. We stayed at his house until 8 in the morning! I have never had so much drama happen over dropping off a friend!  I got to his house to send him to his way...but the guy would not budge!  I kept yelling his name and shaking him, and the only sign of life that he would lay on me was a nod or two.  To avoid parents finding me sleeping like a bum in a car with their drunken son, I drove the car a small ways down the street and passed out with him until he could at least wake up to get to his door. They fed me the other day dammit...I can't be that bad influence. I tied a bandana around my eyes to shield them from the bright evil sun, and slept in my chair.  Aside from acting like he was waking up, he still wouldn't budge, so I ended up taking him with me to my house where we were harassed by my little brother.  Without surprise, we awoke around 7pm for some HOT SEX. Ha! Made you look. As soon as we woke up it was time to go watch a band play at a radio station!  Lordie, without ceasing, it was time to get busy again.  Still broke as ever.  And what do you get when the three of you are broke?  No cigarettes! Hello!  And there we were...bumming every smoker we could find.  The show was meh, but the after party was better! There we laughed and danced, bugged the neighbors, listened to music, ate gardenburgers, adventured the complex, got freaking drunk, got lost, and mingled with new people, and made out, some maybe had sex, and drank, and bummed smokes, and eventually slept over.  It was a party! No, really...it was.  It was a birthday party. I had a good time.  Finally- a party that I enjoyed thoroughly.  You know you had a party if you don't remember going to bed.  I do remember staring at the complex pool and the stillness of its water...that was cool. That party also made me review my old relations with my other friend.  Sometimes I think he hates me because he makes these mean comments to me occasionally.  Those comments make me think he is an insincere friend and make me want to never hang out with him again...because friends don't treat you like shit. Then, there are other moments where it’s great to have him around and we get along like good friends.  It's a real stir, my friendship (or forced connection) with this guy.  I don’t treat him like shit. Whatever. So then, here I am.  Still freaking broke.  No cigarettes. Suffering slight withdrawal.  Thinking of everything...and my other friends.  I wish they would party with me and all these strangers sometimes.  But they never want to. Sometimes I think that they just simply wouldn't get along with all the people that I met this weekend anyway.  I'm glad I did.  And I'm good. Good to go.