Tuesday, February 12, 2008

blues that blame february

I don't think I've lost my mojo. I often think, today I'm going to blog. I do have a lot to say... but often, my thoughts are disjointed. I could write about how every February is difficult for me (last year being the all-time worst) and yet, I'm never quite sure if it's February's fault for giving me the blues, or the blues that blame February.

It's so cold out, and (finally) snowy. I think New York is so pretty when it's under a thin blanket of white, and I usually don't mind the sensation of nearly slipping on the ice with every step. Yet tonight, I felt so afraid falling, and as I took tiny steps down the huge hill that leads to my apartment, everyone else fearlessly flew by me. They held Whole Foods bags and small children. I held my torn turquoise bag and a copy of Slaughterhouse. I also held my notion of February.

Tonight, M and I had dinner with our darling friend who we'll call Dezz--one of those people who come across your life and you know that they're there to stay. We went to Red Bamboo and ate the most delicious mock meat you'll ever eat. Last month, we went there with my brother--a hard-core flesh eater--and he was floored by the soul chicken. I felt like I'd done my good deed that day.

Today I worked hard (which always makes me feel a little better) and then I watched 15 minutes of a ludicrous television show on Bravo, which M mysteriously receives all of a sudden. It was about a millionaire match-making service who links up absurdly wealthy men with insanely beautiful women. After sitting, mouth agape, in front of the TV watching slimy girls throw themselves on appearance-obsessed men, I thanked my lucky stars that I'm rough around the edges--and that I'm gay.

Coming home today, I was met with an unfortunate letter from a certain estranged someone with whom I don't care to correspond. The letter sits unopened to my left at this desk, and despite feeling antsy about it, and frustrated, I also feel surprisingly empty.

Yet I also feel February.

Still, in all this self-induced gloom, I am so looking forward to seeing a Rufus Wainwfight concert this Thursday.

I just think he's the cat's meow.