I was both lost and found this weekend. Drunk and sober. More drunk. I was in West Islip, Bay Shore, Lindenhurst, on the Upper East Side, in Greenwich Village, in Williamsburg, back on the Upper East Side, in Northport and home. I drank sangria, heineken, corona, patron, and a cosmo? Smoked one hookah. Hung around with boys. Danced. Got soaked in the rain. Crashed a party. Dropped my phone...twice. Spent over $50 in cabs. Polished my toenails. Missed someone terribly. As I write this it comes back to me. I made plans to go to Barcelona in January. Steven is buying me the Rosetta Stone software. Steven. Goddamn I'm lucky that he took excellent care of me all day...Until he allowed me in that cab to Williamsburg. Ugh. But I'm pretty determined. I go where the wind blows me. Even if that wind is accompanied by torrential rains. I spent the better part of yesterday going over my decisions. It was a lonely day of contemplation. No regrets though. Never. But no excuses either. Ok, some excuses. You get 3 excuses like wishes. My first is alcohol, and it's ability to cloud my judgement. The second is love. Love in every single sense of the word you could ever imagine. The good and the bad of it. Love. The love that makes everything feel wonderful and everything feel painful, all at the same time. My third excuse is that I'm onehellofan emotional sonofabitch.
xo