Mmmmmm

what a magnificant, fantastic, marvelous kathygriffenic day. it was one of those days where the momentary blemishes lead to clear complexion in a surprising and oil-free way. so i get to the airport around 9am today and i'm sitting in a really really overcramped terminal, i felt like i was at a free access clinic. there were babies crying, and constant noise over the pa and homegirl next to me kept blowing her nose and sneezing. so i'm squashed between curley q and sneezey from snow white and i decide it's the perfect time to crack open "queer in america" (i mean i figured since my mom already saw the book, i might as well read it. which, let me tell you, the part i read was mediocore at best. but, to be fair, it was written in '93 and queer culture has come a real long way since then). anyhoo, bout four pages in, curley q (maybe 28? def late 20s/early 30s lookin chap) goes, "hey i read that book," and with the excitement of a baby gay i exlaime, "really!?" ::sneer:: "ha, no." all right. so i put my ipod in but sometime later lady with her hair pulled back tighter than jackie warner's fabulous abs announces we're going to be delayed for 45 min. curley takes this as initiative for conversation, and after his queer sneer i was a tough bitch to crack. but he got me quick, "so what do you define as feminism?" and thus we began my thirty minute high. i felt like cq was the perfect typical liberal american male archetype: interested but hesitant, confused but openminded. what started out with, "i just feel like it's a bunch of womyn hating on white guys," ended with, "wow i never knew it included so many things, can you email me a list of books you suggest?" end scene.

cut to 12:30 and we've landed in beautiful socal. i hop a flyaway to westwood, within 2 miles of final destination, about a 45 minute drive for only 4 dollars. bargain of the week, huh? just two miles left, simple enough. figure i'll call a cab to pick up me and 150 lbs of lugg. LA taxi cab liars tell me it'll take a mere 10 minutes. perf. 10 minutes go buy, 20, 30, 40, 50--all right. i got dis. i roll my american tourister over to the corner of x and y and figure i'll flag down a yellow submarine. within 15 minutes of back sweat three taxis drive by, all filled with passangers. apparently, my exhasperation struck a cord with mr. night-in-shining-volkswagon-bug. so, i have to admit, i was a little sktech balled. but a hungarian yoga instructor in his late fifties in an eco-friendly car, come on! and that accent, it just dripped polite non-rapist. he took me right to my little green bean appartment, just in time to meet my roommate!

anne was real cordial on the phone and in her emails. i had even sneaked a peak in her room last time i visited la and she had peace flags and a green ninja turtles hat. that spells good peoples to me. but nothing prepared me for such an exquisite delight! homie answered the door in a beige t- with an unbutton button-up plaid number, nose ring, er, stud, and a bandana. either she was my people, or she just played dress-up really well. it only took 30 seconds of small talk to get to the goods.

me: so are you going to be home later tonight?
anne: actually i'll going to a rally because today the california supreme court--
me: passed same-sex marriage!

and then we shared the look. not to mention she has a motorcycle and her gf works at the gay and lesbian center. it's like the gay version of the brady bunch. did i hit the roommate jackpot or what!

anne leaves for class and i unpack like a madwomyn and then sweep and swiffer the floors (who am i??). then i check my grades, rocked this semester, and called my mom for probably the fifth time today. i'm just about to take a shower when anne texts me and tells me her paper is going to take longer than she thought and rally was a no-go. enter bumsville.

BUT NOT FOR LONG.

so i decide to take a walk to the local VONS (cali version of safeway?) and on the way stop by a few places to ask if they are hiring. i've learned that there are three thrift stores between the green bean and vons, and none of them are hiring. and if you were wondering about the persian, thai, and japanese restaurants within those 8 blocks, negative as well. then, it was as if santa monica blvd melted away and it was just me and gene de chene. no, silly, not the french soldier but the independently owned used bookstore! books pour over the squished bookshelves, ceiling to floor, with piles of excess lit stacked at the foot of the shelves, created a perfect state of mild chaos. the isles are so narrow that one person cannot possibly get through a row if another person is already standing there, leaving you completely embraced in literature. there's no need to think about this one. i head straight for samatha, the self-made high school drop out who loves books more than men (well, i mean, that's not exactly a tough call).

me: hi, are you looking to hire?
sam: what's your name? want some grapes?

in the hour that sam and i spent kickin the shit (is that the right idiom?) never once did we mention past history, gpa, criminal history--nothing. we stuck to capetalism, local independent businesses, her mother and mine. we talked about eachother's energies. it was all very arousing. if hired, i would help her update the womyn's studies and gay&lez sections. dream.come.tru. so i find out tomorrow if she can spare me the hours, local bookstores aren't exactly rolling in it these days (RIP aradia). fingers crossed.

and to top it off, i caught both k.griffen and j.warner on bravo tonight. goddess bless a cable package that makes sense. (who picks espn over bravo!?)

listening to: are you that somebody by the gossip