10:54 a.m. - 2004-05-26
dreamwinefairytale
I wish I was the sort of person who believes in exercise. Because right now I feel like running and running and running under this grey sky so heavy it's weighing down my soul. There are clouds in my eyes and they're making it hard to see clearly through all that rain.
I wish for a warm summer night, fireflies blinking outside, and all my loved ones chatting and laughing around me on the patio. I want to be quiet and watch them. I want to sip cheap red wine out of those great arty wineglasses that live lonely under my bed. I will wear my beautiful velvet dress with the beaded sandals and tiara and dance the moon black. The air will smell like lilacs and snickerdoodles and warm people. Gigi will be laughing so hard at something that Dannyboy said to Django that Long Island Iced tea comes out of her nose. Chinese lanterns will illuminate Starla helping Stacey deciding what her daughter's fairy name will be. And Jaybear will be impressing Brittany with his latest genetic work with fruitflies ;). Dunstan, you will be there with some fascinatingly intelligent, witty, charming, writer-type woman who looks at you like you've just bottled happiness for her. Which you have. That's the name of your new book that's topping the lists in the NY Times. (don't worry, it's not as sappy as it sounds. It's actually a biting political satire-fictional commentary on the state of the world today, as viewed from a paralell universe. It also has an excellent selection of custard recipes.) Kris, you're talking to that lovely Italian entrepreneur I told you about. He is completely in awe of your terrific command of languages and promptly offers you a job traveling around Europe for an ungodly amount of money. Which you take, provided you get to keep your soul.
M & Eddie are there, toasting their new play opening on Broadway and chatting nonchalantly with G-ma. They have a lot in common, now that it turns out that not only is chocolate really a vegetable, but it also cures all forms of cancer and works as a dandy stain-remover. Preston and Joel are actually talking. Nicely. To each other. And not about women or whiskey. (No, wait--that last bit is really wacky and unbelievable. Sooner to have lions and lambs lay down together.)
I look around at this little scene lit by candles and fairylights and chinese lanterns. I drink my wine. I eat some sushi and thai carrot pudding and eye the table laden with bowls of Cafe de Paris mousse de chocolat and that terrific lemongrass creme brulee from Zutto's. Around me, people talk and joke and tease and laugh and giggle and chortle and smile. I close my eyes. Love streams out of me, from my eyes and nose and mouth and ears and pores and even from underneath my fingernails...I breathe in and exhale and I am happy.
***
So that's my fairytale. I threw in some real new people and some old people and some imaginary people who deserve to be real, and even someone I don't know at all. I left out the bits about my own true love and some truly great and steamy sex scenes. Also, in the interests of potentially protecting minors who might view this, all parts pertaining to pygmy goats or flan have been omitted.
I'm sad and contemplative now. A little bit angry, but that's just the normal flickering of a pilot light. Life is sometimes a little too twisty windy rocky rough and uphill. Pause. Wait, that's inaccurate. Downhill steep and slide-y is worse because you're heart is suddenly relocating itself and you've lost any semblence of control in the direction you're moving. Yup, that's more like it.
It's nice to dream of my little patio gathering to go back to.
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