I woke up at around 11:00, summoned by the promise of Thai brunch, and stumbled into a pair of pants to depart for the East Bay. Peaches was driving, and we listened to Mickey Avalon and drank ginger ale along the way. It was a fuzzy sort of day, with everyone around me hung over and exhausted, and I felt out of sorts myself, thanks to going to sleep after the sun rose, lying in a torpor on my bed as the morning got steadily warmer.
At Thai brunch, the crush of people almost overwhelmed me, and I hunched over my sticky rice and mango feeling pensive and threatened by the crowd. Flocks of Thai ladies were running around with plates of food, and tragically cool hipsters perched artfully in chairs, nibbling daintily at their plates. My sensibilities felt delicate and brittle in the sunshine, which was surprisingly warm and bright, perhaps simply a change after the days of murky rain.
Water pooled in the streets of Berkeley, a shoe soaking reminder of the weather, and we foolishly decided to go to the Berkeley Bowl to pick up a few things. Berkeley Bowl on a Sunday afternoon is not good for people with hangovers, sleep deprivation, or panic disorders. Between the two of us, we felt a bit frazzled after the experience, although we did have a torrid affair with a couple of girls from Mills while we waited in line…and coincidentally had parked illegally right next to each other, as well.
“It’s meant to be,” I said. “This is love.”
“Farewell,” they said, pulling away in their cute little car as we climbed into the Jellybean for deployment.
Stuck in traffic on the bridge, we blasted “My Dick” and sang along, the Golden Gate bridge clearly visible for once, without a hint of haze, and then swinging out of side as we rounded onto Yerba Buena. The Bay was glittering and perfect, dotted with sailboats drifting idyllically in the breeze, and I went out for a walk along the sea wall to think and drink in the sunlight, returning warm and thoughtful to eat cookies and play Clue in the gathering dusk with friends.
We went over the The Boys’ and sat in the living room quietly doing homework and arguing good naturedly about politics together. Cap’n Raspberry and I worked on a biology lab about the heart while I muttered obscenities about Hillary Clinton and forced the Scarab to read me selections from Barack Obama’s campaign platform.
Puff and I walked briskly back through the gathering cold to have a dance party upstairs, and then the evening slowly wound down, the sounds of V for Vendetta drifting up from downstairs while I splashed in the tub with my rubber duck.
I am so happy to be living among friends that sometimes I think my heart will burst.