Friday, November 09, 2007

We Were All A Little Blurry

The Man. The Cheap Wine and Poetry Man.

But what did you expect from a night of cheap wine and poetry? It wasn't the wine for me, though, it was definitely the poetry, the crowd, and probably that chocolate cake I ate instead of dinner. And while we are on the subject of chocolate cake, I wanna let you in on a little insider tip. Something they don't tell you about Hugo House when you come in the door with your little notebook and paper, or your copy of White Noise for that mind-bending Don DeLillo class you are taking (oh, sorry, you wish you were taking). Ready? Here it is: If you should find yourself at Hugo House, and someone sets food in front of you, and at that same time, Brian's girlfriend is somewhere on the vicinity, maybe scooting upstairs mysteriously from time to time? Well, you need to eat that food. She made that food, and knowing that, you know that you should eat it. Now I've told you, now you know.

Last night that food was chocolate cake. And while the chocolate cake itself was pretty and all, a big round birthday-looking (Happy Birthday Brian!) chocolate thing, a classic cake shape, not that big square Safeway baloney you get from co-workers who don't really like you all that much, even though this cake was not that cake, it still did not get eaten with the fervor which I believe it deserved. It's not your fault, you just didn't know. But I have to tell you, that was some goooood cake! I still don't believe her that it was vegan. That's crazy talk.

Mmmmmh! Dayum, that cake was gooood!

What did get eaten, voraciously, with loud mouth-noises and even some snorting, was the poetry. The crowd was big, and the crowd was thirsty and the thirsty ones drank and this only made them more hungry. Thank god, or in this case, Brian, there was both cake and of course, poetry. When we left, we were full.

What I filled up other than cake, and other than the pleasure of sitting next to Kate's man Jason, the kind of man who puts his arm around you and says "Where you been?" like he's gonna' beat up whoever has taken you away, but in a nice way, like the most friendly ass-whupping ever, maybe like he's just gonna open a can of Maldives songs whup-ass on someone, you know, just sing or even headbang them into whuppedness, the kind of man who you hope your boyfriend will understand, who will understand your boyfriend, if you ever happen to have one, because he is the I'm-looking-out-for-you-advice-giving type if there ever was one, but where was I? Right... what I filled up on other than the pleasure of sitting next to him, was poetry.

Prose too, I guess, since Ryan Boudinot delighted me with "An Essay and A Short Story About Motley Crue". I never knew about that time Motley Crue's tour bus broke down in Conway Washington, or about the burrito thing either, though maybe I didn't need to know that. Anyway, I'm glad I know now, because I am going to get that au jus recipe from Vince Neil myself, when I finally meet him.

And you know I can't end this without a word about Brian. I love that guy, and the truth is I love listening to him even when he's telling me to stuff envelopes. In fact, sometimes I get in trouble for how much I love how he sounds. Every once in a while, he'll say something I like, and I'll find myself, without thinking about it, repeating it, kinda chewing it over, only with my mouth open, which is not so polite because it means that Brian can see that I am swallowing all the R's when I chew, just like he does. "Are you makin funna me?" he says. But of course I'm not, I just love the taste of those words.

When he reads poetry, it's even better. I heard a laugh sound come out of Kate's mouth that I swear I've never heard her make before. That whole birthday weekend, I never heard that sound. And the crowd started out all hungry and rowdy at the beginning but by the end they were buzzing and satiated. My favorite? The one called "The First Pair of Panties I Seen In a While." It was about buying a house. For real!

Hell yes I ate some cake!

No comments: