We made love and dumplings, fried and boiled. I got lost into his cuteness. And we watched Kathy Griffin’s My life on D list. I slept a lot, most of which into his arms, and he in mine. I have also cleaned his keyboard, teased him about that and loved him nevertheless.
It was not love. It was COLD.
As the water was dripping down his body and swirling into the drain, he was waking up. Waking up shivering. Waking up and shivering. Not what he intended, the shivering.
And he was realizing yet another difference between communism and capitalism. In capitalism you pay by the meter for what you’re getting. In communism you pay by the meter for how much you’re getting. These were his thoughts at six a.m. while taking his cold shower coming down to him from the hot water pipe. He was still in communism, obviously, he thought. “And also this is what you get for being first”, he issued yet another Simonism before he got sucked into making ready for his imminent trip to his lover.
The more I need my morning sleep and the more the weather allows it, the more likely it is I will have a rude awakening. One day it’s the pneumatic hammer, the next it’s the cement machine. Today it’s a call. The kind that renders me useless. The repetitive kind that betrays bedazzling. I call this “badger in the spotlight”. I am talking about her. I can have my coffee, my vitamin, my mild depression, my first breakthrough, friends who can advise and help me for free and lend me money, a mother who tells me “Sure! break the cat” - her way of agreeing to extreme solutions.
I was dreaming of a minor car crash.
Therefore I give you today’s soundtrack.
People don’t explain, mostly. That’s because they already know. Or because they don’t know how.
… and in connection with any of these the things it should be interpreted in a different key.
I don’t want to be missed. I want to be appreciated.
Remove the balls, and you will have a pretty accurate picture of my life.
I am sipping coffee from my brand new “Drama Queen” in capitals mug, getting ready for a day to complete my identity card and other tasks. In thirty minutes I will have to rush out the door, but until then I can browse old pictures and remember. I think Belfast and Strasbourg compete in my head for the title of “Most boring city I have ever visited”. Clean, civilized and plain boring. But maybe I am mistaken.
Many many happy birthday wishes later, and I still think the day would have been better spent cleaning the house. Or rendering order in those piles of paper.
I am not built for frustration, but I experience it more often than I should.
As time goes by, it turns out I am more interested in feasible projects.
Related to all of the above, I did the laundry yesterday. Now let me find a picture for you.
When you’re born you’re zero years old. Then you turn one year old. Therefore the birthday celebrates the year that has passed, not the one that’s coming. Maybe this is, sometime, the annoying thing with birthdays. They measure what’s gone. In other words I have been 34 the entire year behind me. I didn’t have a problem with 33, 30 was fine. At 25 I took pride in being a quarter of a century into the world. So what do I make of 34? Maybe like they do in buildings and planes, when they skip 13. 34 can be my 13. By the way, I don’t have a problem with 13. So, it’s settled then. I am going on 35.
I am writing about this because I had the worse sleep last night, hot flashes and all. For the first time I have heard my neighbour’s bed screeching. How awkward is that?! And pretty much all the noises going around in my block of flats. Veve’s called just as I managed to fall asleep, and the ring scared the living light out of me. She was having a beer in my honour. Thank you 
Plus the spoilers. It looks like a lot of people were afraid to miss my birthday and I kept receiving happy birthday wishes in advance. Oh well, I will try to live deal with it.
As for my new life, I have set my alarm for seven and woke up at six. A.M. Without it. Is that a sign or what?
In other news, the best present has just woke up and kissed me. I am happy.
Fair warning, there are two separate topics right there. Also I am not parting with my Appy, we’re leaving together in hour first e-honeymoon. I hear most BT operated hotspots are six pounds an hour. Sterling. Fucking. They want to ruin my relation with Appy, or what?!
The gay dating site is providing for the drama and amusement in my life. I know, it’s not much of an entertainment, but since I don’t have cable… One guy says “not looking for relation, if I were, I’d be looking for a relation with girls”. That’s sad, closeted, true, and telling. Another guy’s nick innocently states totalsm, like in Satu Mare. Like in sado-maso. Thats’s a funny missunderstanding.
OK, I have a couple of flights to catch, and a terminal to change in Heathrow. Heathrow in less than two hours? What were the travel company thinking?!
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