ramblings of an insane person.

tate is gone for the weekend and i drank too many damn martinis last night (three, if i remember correctly). somehow i was smart enough to walk my bike home from the "party" instead of attempting to ride it -- but never fear, i still wore my helmet. i had a phone date scheduled with my friend rebecca this morning, but i could not handle life so i sent her a text that read: "too many martinis. can't form words. must sleep. need raincheck. love you." my phone soon buzzed a response "yeah. just got up and now have to go to work. so no worries. love you too!" note that it was 1:15pm in her time zone. we might be soulmates.

so today i wandered around in a daze. i couldn't focus on anything for very long. i set off to get my brother a birthday present and instead wandered into a nearly empty office depot and bought lightbulbs and crazy glue. incidentally i could spend several hours in any office supply store if it weren't for the bored, slightly desperate seeming employees and their insistence on asking me if i need help every five godamn seconds.

i haven't been alone for an entire day in a really long time. the last time i remember in detail was the summer of 2005, during my last few weeks of living in vermont. my roommate's family had a camp in the Adirondacks so she would head out there for most weekends, and most of my other grad school friends had already wandered off into the next phase of their lives. rich and i had broken up pretty recently and i was sort of in mourning about that whole thing. that was also the summer i discovered Six Feet Under. most nights were spent on the shitty futon in my moldy smelling house, lights off with the adventures of Nate, David, Claire, Ruth, and Brenda unfolding on the tv. my drink of choice at that time was carlo rossi sangria, from a large jug, poured over ice in a pint glass. occasionally i would go an entire day without talking to a single person, just kind of zoned out and confused. burlington made me miserable. but the larger point is that i'm not one of those people who craves "alone time." alone time makes me fucking insane.

i don't know what it is with me and denver. we have a volatile relationship. my boss once described the city as "like the inside of a meth trailer" and that's at least true of colfax avenue, the main street i watch when i'm sitting at my kitchen table. most of the time i appreciate that grittiness, but today it made me depressed. possibly because the only people i've interacted with are homeless dudes asking me for change and the lady at the dry cleaners. it doesn't really feel like home and i don't know that it ever will, but it's where i met tate and where i bought my first car, where i have my first studio apartment and where i spent my first thanksgiving away from my parents. it's sort of where i grew up. so i'm fond of denver... if only it didn't smell so bad, suck all the moisture from my body, and sit a gazillion miles away from anything fun or interesting, i'd probably give it a glowing review.