rain, wine, butters, air travel, and gloves. by.alexander

Suzy.  I haven’t heard back from you.  My car (I always say that when I mean cab when I book the day before to go to an airport – it sounds SO ny!) is picking me up at 6AM, are you going to be ready and here?  

It is POURING in Los Angeles tonight.  How appropriate, right, as I venture to my beloved new Portland tomorrow morning.  I am so packed with all the right apparel I just don’t get a chance to use in Southern California.  (After so many “winter years”, it really feels still so weird to complain about constant warmth.)

I am finishing some wine.  I never sleep well when I have to be up so early for a flight.  Maybe because I’ve missed a few.  The cab comes before six.  The airport is close and I don’t check bags and I’m reading the paper and then I am in Portland at 10!  I just realized I’d save the last swig of wine in the bottle on my desk, it is pretty worth it to chug it down before walking out the door to the airport on such an early morning.  That’s about all I could stomach at that hour anyway.  Someone was mentioning the annoyance of getting up at 5 am (3 hours from now) and I said, well, I sleep A LOT.  And it is true and that is how I think about these nights.  I won’t sleep much tonight.  And now comes Holidays with friends.  So.  But, I remind myself the endless nights of 10-12 hours that have gone on in the past month.  It all evens out I’m sure of it.

Like I said.  It’s a beautiful downpour at 1:something in LA.  I have my windows open and am cold, but I want to hear it.  What a beautiful sound it is.  Butters (that’s my cat) is warm on the bed with me, and he is always peculiar when I’m packing up.  I suppose in the 2 years since adopting this crazy kitten, I have packed my bags and disappeared many times and sometimes for quite some time.  (Don’t worry, 2 great roomies take over.)  But still I think he misses his crazy dad and my crazy at-home-all-day antics.   I hug him a lot tonight, but he knows what’s up.  

So I saw Milk.  MILK MILK MILK.   Everyone: SEE MILK.  It is such a part of modern American History that will NEVER be taught in schools or churches or the mid-west.  It is SUCH an important story and I have nothing but tears for getting to know it and have some slight part in it.  (I’m gay, I live in CA, the whole prop 8 thing, I worked at a bar named for the man who was killed for his progressive, gay and civil ways.)   But without ANY of that connection, I still want this movie to be seen.  Tell everyone you know.  Especially your family, New Jersey, white people, straight people, old people.   And then, lets not forget it is Gus Van.  It is Sean Penn.  It is fucking hot James Franco.  And there is butt.  So, if I haven’t sold you yet.  Just go.  

Oh, and speaking of Gus (he comes from Portland), but really speaking of Portland.  My friend there says “bring gloves”.  GLOVES.?!??  I know rain and cold and dark, but GLOVES?  I guess it isn’t California, Toto.  I was totally prepared with the scarves and hats and excited to dust that stuff off in my Southern Hot California closet.  But I had to dig for the gloves.  I found them.   Do you know about my gloves, Suzy?  That I have a special pair for me, with the right hand missing 2 fingers.  (EVERYONE: ALEXANDER ONLY HAS 3 FINGERS ON ONE HAND FROM BIRTH, YA GANNA STOP READING MY BLOG NOW?)   And so, mostly as a kid (in Wyoming and PA) I wore mittens.  But later, we (mom) realized I could be having a grandma type family folk make me something to wear.  I’ve been through a few pairs back in PA because, well, isn’t loosing gloves what people do in the winter.  Can you imagine that a handful of folks have found gloves on a street, or taxi or coffee shop in various cities and states and had to contemplate the 3-fingered one.   Currently I sport a pair from the gap.  About 5 years old (since for 5 years I’ve been west and warm.) and still great.  I hope I don’t drop these gloves in Portland.  It would be nice to keep them around.  I don’t know anyone who could make me specialized gloves anymore.   (Oh, and once, on a catering gig in SF I was unexpectedly handed black server gloves to wear on the floor.  Ew those days might be back soon.  And it was a shocking experience.  I had to ask a fellow server if he thought I should tuck the unused floppy fingers into the glove, or just let them dangle where I should have fingers.   HAHA)  

 

Peace to you tonight.  Happy Eat Food Day and see you all on the other side.

(This isn’t a peace sign, it’s my hand.)

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