A fabulous breakfast with Dean and Emily this morning in Oakland: Emily wore a blue cookie-monster coat and radiated glamour and confidence; Dean was his charming self, the successful and talented artist, still glowing from his success at Christopher Grimes last month. A few years ago we talked about starting a band. I wanted to play the tambourine and be beautiful, a bearded Lori Partridge. They are my best friends, and really lifted my spirits today. They listened with wonder to my tale of shattered hearts left in the wake of this week’s boyfriend shakeup. At one point I looked at them and saw reflected on their faces the memory of me a few months ago saying how I’d never leave Bob, that they shouldn’t take me seriously the next time I announced my need to have a boyfriend my age, etc… Bob wouldn’t take me back at this point, I’m sure. I sure wouldn’t. So I’ve been very up and very down this week. And Bob’s a cold fish.
Oh wait, did I tell you guys about this? I’ve broken up with Bob, my lover of 10 years. The same one I broke up with him a few months ago, but we’ve continued cohabitating in this Boschian domestic scene, and following the Big Chrissy drama, I decided to take some responsibility for my loved ones by telling them to run as far away from me as possible. His new book just came out, so he’ll really be moving on, to Europe in January for a two-week book tour. We’re not quite sure what to do about the living arrangements. I’m staying in my studio downstairs, until Matthew comes to town tomorrow night for Bob’s book-release party and the launching of the Clear Cut Press. I’ve offered Bob the unit below ours, and above my studio, so that he and Reese can continue being a part of my life. Besides, we love living here, and this has been his home, too, for 10 years…
Okay, okay I hear you. You don’t even have to say it.
Is this denial?
This doesn’t seem real yet.