WHITE RUSSIANS

Saturday, December 19, 2009

As opposed to, you know, Black Norwegians!

Seriously: just had three of them. And it's SNOWING!!! In fact, it's BLIZZARDING!!!

Woooah, boy. Hello! She is a leetle beet hyper. Could eet bee thee alcohol? Yes, it could. Also, could bee thee company shee keeeps. As in, BenjaminnMika (and Little No Name). And the fact that she KICKED SOME SERIOUS DART BUTT TONIGHT!! Well, not really, but she likes to think she did, kind of.

Seriously. Hello, Providence!! WE are HERE! Please NOTE EMphatiC use OF capS!!! A PLAY ON various bloggING STYLES! NONE OF WHICH I REALLY CARE FOR, BUT WHAT THE.

Ok, made little sense there. Must be serious now.

We (Lula, Malko, and I) arrived Wednesday evening after a right good jolly time aboard our dear friend US Airways, who did NOT charge us $280 fuckimg (note: disguise of certain "swear" "words" might be "apparent" through"out" th"i"s entry")"dollars just for our fuckink luggage. Like, hello--who in their goddam hell right mind charges people for luggage, anyway! I know, but I'm not gonna say! Except that I already did.

So. We got here the other day, and my parents, aka Nanou et Richard, aka CKMOMF, immediately plied us with food. Did I say "plied"? I meant SUPplied! As in, food=love=parents (or it should, anyway). Tonight was fish en papillottes (no, it wasn't wearing underwear), rice, and salad. And it worked: I want to stay another 8 months. Although I have to say, the blizzard had been hugely transcendental in that respect. As in, can you imagine a very depressing landscape, all browns, rusts, and greys, cold and bitter and dull, frankly DEPRESSING, turning, exactly at 9 o'clock pm, when BenjaminnMika (and Little you-know-who, not yet there yet, but kind of) pick you up in their pickup truck, into MAGIC??? I repeat: turning into MAGIC?

White flying flakes, falling fast on the river?

A blizzard. Magic. The Puritans, stuck in the middle of nowhere in all that scratchy clothing, make a little more sense, for some reason.

Anyway. The other night, I had a bad case of insomnia, and lay awake thinking "I'm the Ambassador from the Land of Fuckup," knowing very well it sounded pathos-y and frankly funny, but it wasn't good, I mean, I felt like shit, very horrific terrible fugking shit, like all the decisions I've made in the past 18 years have been bad and dumb and not the decisions I should have made, and if I could have beaten myself with a strop (preferably faux) I would have, but I didn't have one and anyway it would have woken everyone up, so...

Where was I going with that? What I meant to say is that I'm three White Russians deep, a blizzard's falling outside, and Providence is darn delightful. We put up an Xmas (not actually a denigrating term, as Uncle E can tell you) tree yesterday and although the smell made me want to smoke it, I didn't, YAY ME (golly, how obnoxious!), and gosh! There might even be presents under that tree on Xmas day.

Not all is well: I miss Joedy. We all miss Diablo and Astrid. We don't know where we're going to settle. But who, for fock's sake, doesn't have problems? We all do. It's just good, I guess, to look out the window now and then and see snow flakes swirling, to see all the browns and greys covered up. Tomorrow we'll go sledding, and I'll probably concoct a drink involving snow. I wish, I really really wish, all the people I love were here to drink it with me...

1 comment:

micaela.pelao said...

Sweet and strong like a white russian...

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