Supermoonjunespoonschooner.

The words are coming back. Sometime last night between the ride to MH and the end of the night watching tv and eating a delicious greasy not good for me moved to the darkside hamburger I found myself swirling in the thoughts and words again that had been gone for so long. I even had to take notes on the little notebook that Judy bought me for my birthday. I am actually beginning to feel normal again.

The night was perfectly strange and wonderful. First of all, yesterday at the store was amazing. A full fledged day of goodness. Lots of customers, beautiful weather and Ray Wylie Hubbard stopped by the shop the last few minutes of our day and bought a book! (picture up there^)

We closed shop and headed over to MH to make an appearance. I ate a cookie in the car. It was delicious. I wore my ridiculous 4 inch wedges and we had to walk a block to the house because the parking around those condos are ridiculous. We knew 'the nemesis' was going to be there. And he was. He made a beeline to C and stuck his hand out as some kind of stupid truce. Mind you, I was the one who was personally attacked and called names, etc. But he goes to C. C told him to fuck off. It was getting heated very quickly, and I just turned my head and said 'not the time or the place' and it broke up. Unfortunately, he continued to badger C all night and we cut out after only being around for an hour or so. Now I tell you I can understand he is mentally ill, but he seems to be well enough to be civil to everyone else around there. To cut it short, let me just say, he has a lot of work to do. He has a lot of work to do. On himself mostly.

But to describe the scene, well, lots of food, booze, gracious hosts and a whole lot of people I don't know. The poets stick near the food and the booze or on the deck smoking cigs of both hand varieties. I guess I knew it was time when I ran into the 'help' who looked a whole lot like me. But man, he has some great art, and everyone is really nice. I just can't help but feel I've dropped out of the sky into some other land. This is purely my affliction. One day it will feel ok. I think i'm getting there at least. I lasted longer last night than I ever had before without completely falling apart on the inside and feeling inferior.

Then we left that scene, snuck out under the radar while wine glasses still clinked and the scent of grilled shrimp wafted down the stairs. We made our way back to OC, and hit the club we were going to meet our friends at. I LOVED IT! What a great little dive. Little stage up front, lots of beer neon lights, a good bar with really nice help, and 2$ shooners of beer. Are you kidding me? In one night I went to imported to bud light and I was happy for it. C and I cut a rug a few songs, but mostly gabbed it up with our new friends. The Cliff Blues band sure know how to rock it. I was thinking about all the other little clubs everywhere in world that were partying it up on a Saturday night. Little bars all tucked away full of regulars having the time of thier life. All us working class people drinking beers at our Lobo, (like on Roseanne) and living it up for a bit before we have to get back up on Monday and do it all over again. Our exsistance is meager but real. Why can't I help but feel happier knowing that I'm never going to be more than what I am now. Even if things change and I do win that lottery, i'm never going to be happier than I am now, living this life in my little town where the bar tenders know my name, and the house band plays songs about the streets I live on.

Tonight is Supercute at MFA, and then Bills. Happy Sunday.