February 21st, 2000 at 01:02 AM
This is Living. I'm drinkin' red wine.
Nothing particularly out of the ordinary happened today, but it all felt great. Joshua and I went to Wal-Mart, a horrible place full of ugly people, to buy some coolant and oil for our old Ford vehicles. Wal-Mart is a big place full of inexpensive products and ugly people. We bought our things and got the hell out of there. I saw two shoppers as hairy as Coco the cat-loving gorilla. In the parking lot I showed Joshua just how easily I could break into my own car. He was impressed. So was the old lady who thought we were stealing someone's vehicle. Joshua corrected her, laughing. We left, and spent some time back home taking care of our ridiculous 8-cylinder gas suckers. I read from my Coupland book. Andrew called, and he seemed, as Josh described, "happy and upbeat".
Yesterday we went to Safeway
and stocked up on groceries Big Time.
On Saturday night we stuffed and roasted a chicken. It was yummy. It's hard to mess up a chicken, actually. All you do is stick it in a hot oven and try to keep the skin moist. And today, while Joshua surfed the web, I whipped up a salad, some ranch-style baked beans, peppers and onions in sauce, and some garlic bread. We popped open a couple of Coronas. I cooked the steaks on Joshua's George Foreman grilling machine--a thoroughly useful kitchen appliance. The thing works, and it's great. The meal turned out well, if I do say so myself.
I really enjoy cooking, and I'm moderately good at it. I'm not sure how this happened, exactly. Watching my mom, perhaps. Tasting delicious food, the aromas of five o'clock kitchens, wanting to please the taste buds of someone I care about, the delayed gratification of making sure a dish is just right before munching that satisfying munch of food you prepared yourself. Cooking is not abstract. It doesn't exist "in theory". It's therapeutic for my head: the preparation and consumption of a meal is tangible and physical and real, and I can feel it and eat it and love it and feel satisfied afterward. It's a great way to ground abstract headwanderings after a long day of imagining and thought and Movement. Cooking is creative, challenging, task oriented, and produces something the body needs.
we ate, and drank our beer.
joshua enjoyed it and i was glad.
And observations like these become fuel for conversation. We have had so many conversations while sitting while walking while lying awake, our eyes wide, our minds racing in parallel. I have little tolerance for half-assed friendships. no one should. i want to be inside your head, i dont want to chit chat about what you did today. i want to feel you, i want you to show me you limitations.
i set those standards of friendship because of joshua. we've known each other since we were very little, but really it started almost 8 years ago, on March 14th, 1992. that was a long
time ago. we have a giant
database of vocabulary, of models, of memories, of prior talk, of
theories, of friends, of experience, of private jokes, of listening to
albums, of priceless moments, of pain, of silly episodes. songs of intense
sadness. invented philosophy. wrapping arms around tears we are
I move. I like moving and
learning and taking and discovering and moving on.
but this is real, and i did it, and
i'm doing it. its not going to waste, either.