Two-day update thing.

[kiya]

I successfully located erispope at the airport on Thursday. We went downtown (downstairs? downtown!) and met Kevin in his building's lobby, went and put bags in his car, and then went to Mary's for dinner. Mm, chicken velvet. (Which I've now been eating in bits for the past three days.) Then we had ice cream at Tosci's, and Kevin was very perplexed by one of the attendants. I had ginger snap molasses ice cream and cinnamon ice cream, as per usual.

On Friday, she and I went wandering around the city. I got some books at Hugo's, which I haven't been to in ages; I love the smell of used bookstores. Store cat not in evidence; I think that was the place with the store cat. We went wandering through stuff shops and the like for a while; I picked up something for brooksmoses, in the hope that . . . we get to a place where I could give it to him. Someday. We went into a liquor store, which had a cat who was heading purposefully towards the back; the cat crouched down and froze when someone came out of the back, and didn't accept an offered hand. When the fellow came out of the back room, the cat got up and headed on. Perfectly straight line. I failed to buy a bottle of vanilla rum, but was tempted.

We went and did dinner at a Vietnamese place in Harvard Square. Oh, so good. But if those are the small soup bowls (surface area about equivalent to that which my extended hand covers, palm and all) I truly fear the large ones. The soup had cilantro in, and it worked well, except when I got a mouthful (usually on the bits of meat) and had to go, 'ppah, ppah, ppah' for a bit to get the soapy flavor out. I like cilantro when it's subtle. Then we wandered around Harvard Square a bit before heading up to Davis to meet Kevin.

I'd not brought my phone with me, because I have no memory even when I;'m not scrambled. I tried calling Kevin from North Station when the train got in; no answer. I tried calling his cellphone then, too; no answer. After dinner, I called again, three times (hanging up so's to get my fifty cents back; fifty fucking cents for a payphone now!), before leaving the message, "You are really bloody hard to get a hold of." Called again from Davis when we got there; didn't get through again. So I had no idea if he was remembering to meet us, or if he'd gotten the message I asked him to give to brooksmoses, so I was getting wound up about the possibility of having been forgotten about, or about Brooks maybe waiting for me to get home so we could have our phone call. Bleargh. And I don't know jikharra or keshwyn's numbers off the top of my head, either, so I couldn't call them to figure out what was going on. . . He did show up eventually, on my second, "Wander off to look for him" jaunt in the hopes of working of some useless energy.

Today Kevin was at a tournament, and we were considering meeting him for dinner, but I've gone turtle just now -- I'm not willing to come out of my shell much, but people can pick me up and port me around. We were going to go out for Indian, but we wound up doing a steakhouse instead after I fed Kunda. I had a Long Island Spiced Tea -- a Long Island Iced Tea with spiced rum rather than, what was it? citrón, I think. I'm apparently a funny drunk. Got into a really rambly and incoherent theoretical discussion about which aspect I tend to manifest when I'm drunk; we're really not sure. I think my working theory at this point is that I get a bunch of barriers knocked flat and manifest gestalt, more or less. Though I'm still not sure which part of me puns.

After dinner we went to see Spirited Away. Muchly Changeling, yes. (Had a rambly discussion, this one sober, on the way back about manifestations of faerie and chrysalis experiences and that sort of thing, which got me off on that faerie thing that I'm not working on right now because I can't figure out how to write something with a plot.) I'm not sure I'm cogent enough to comment on it. I liked it.

I'm just . . . tired right now. Worn down, worn out. I may be slightly sick, but I don't know. I'm probably going to turtle tomorrow, really thoroughly; erispope wants to go up to Salem while it's still witch kitsch season, but I really don't know if I have the strength for it. And autumnesquirrel invited me to join her on a trundle up there during the time brooksmoses is here. I really don't know right now.

Gods-be-feathered tired, is what I am. And while I'm not a wreck, I'm not doing so sane-and-reasonable again. (Jealousy sucks slugs. Pureed ones.) And of course I'm doing the whole hormone joyride at the moment, which kills my mood stability, my ability to stay conscious, and my motivation. Biology also sucks pureed slugs.

Mbuh. Enough whining, I should just fuckin' go to bed.

Comments

[baratron.livejournal.com]

I can't comment on most of your post, but apparently the majority of Vietnamese food is full of cilantro - they really like it, according to the proprietor of the only Vietnamese restaurant I've ever been to. So I have to remember whenever I go there to ask them to leave it off my food, which is difficult as in UK English we don't have a word for it. I end up saying "that herb... little green leaves... you may call it coriander leaf or cilantro or something else. Well, you put it on as a garnish, and I don't like it, so please leave it off!", which is awkward and convoluted, especially if the person taking the order really doesn't speak English all that well in the first place. I should find out what the Vietnamese name is for it.