radio cures

Oh Em Eff Gee. Seriously. And not in the ways I've OMFG'd before, I mean, this was a real doozy. Did I just say doozy? Holy tired Batman.

So I pick Kieran up tonight at Sea-Tac, to give him a ride back from his trip to Bend (Oregon) to see some friends, do work stuff, whatever he was doing. I call Kristin on my way to do this, suddenly realizing that I live in Seattle, and that I'm picking someone up from the airport. She tells me soon I'll be giving tours and talking about the building in Queen Anne from the top of the Space Needle. And so I find him on the sidewalk, carry-ons and cigarettes, and we're all driving and I hate him a little bit for seeing a sick Wilco show, which he followed up by hearing Beck across some water someplace because the show was outside. It's a blast to catch up. I've got directions but we just take the highways by signs, battered and wooden, knowing we've got to get to the West Seattle bridge, so that's where we wind up. Fauntleroy? Vashon? I almost couldn't see because I was practically crying from laughing so hard. Everything is funny these days.

So we're cutting through, and West Seattle in the nighttime doesn't look as glorious as it does in the day - I mean, it was pretty regular, main streets with side streets in-between, and eventually we turned off to get back to his friend's place. What I didn't realize is that the bulk of the streets all dead-ended a few blocks down, because the backs of them stuck out of a hill that overlooked Puget Sound. It's the same set of roads that Kristin follows that I see from the back of the scooter. All aghast and lavender nighttime sky, wondering how awesome it is to live there, happy I don't have to pay for it.

Right. That's where I was last night. Not kidding.

Here's me, beat up car that I still haven't washed since driving it out here (well, not the inside anyway), blasting KEXP, in love with my fort-to-be, all pulling half into the driveway up to the front of the new CR-V, something else, and a Beamer. Like, a big one. A Beamer SUV. All shiny and damp from the drizzle, all brick walkway going up to the door, a hose hanger on the corner of the house, and I whisper to Kieran something about oh - these people like, landscape and stuff.

Cue front door, big and glass and heavy, with Hot Older Guy holding it open. We're all whispering, you know, because The Baby Is Sleeping and My Wife Will Be Irritated I Have Friends Over. I've been the one getting yelled at, and I've been the Irritated one, and I immediately smell the scent of relationship diress. I only know this because it's so familiar. We walk in. Kieran takes off his shoes. I go, "Hi. I'm Victoria. Your house is fucking baller." In baby-whisper voice. The whole thing is pretty funny. I tell Rob my feet probably smell, and that I should leave my shoes outside. He laughs at me.

We walk in and I'm all aghast. The house is all clean and perfect and full of All The Right Things. Hardwood, granite, a whole wall of windows, houses out the window below, water, Seattle, the shadows of mountains, little glittery lights. They immediately lead me past said spouse (who I am polite to) to the windows so I can See The View. I ask which lake it is. I am informed that it's Puget Sound. Which is how I knew to write that earlier. We go downstairs shortly after that to where Kieran is staying, to the Man-Den that should have taken over the entire first floor of the house. But, as the host said, something to the effect of She Would Kill Me, or I Don't Think My Wife Would Let Me Do That. Those moments, just this guy living his life, it all gave power point presentation of everything awesome you can do with a bunch of money, and a bunch of stuff that I don't want. In every way imaginable.

So, yeah. The Man-Den, where there's even a view from the basement doors. Only they're not your mom's basement doors, they're all real doors with blinds and there's a good paint job and nice shit down here too. And by this time we're cracking jokes and I'm not worried about my feet anymore, and we flop on the couch, and Rob starts talking about some kind of Super CDs. Super something and something CDs. Like HD for your ears, only better, like Blue Ray, or Blu Ray, or whatever it is. CDs are, apparently, 44 measuring units of something, I don't think it's megahertz-es, or maybe it is, and these things are like, millions. So it's like every nuance, every everything, plucking strings and drawing breath, multiplied, like everyone in the house has on the greatest headphones ever made. It's retarded. And so you can get these crazy cds, and you can get the crazy cd player (that plays regular cds too), and if you're lucky, you can be an audiophile with an unlimited budget like this guy.

He starts talking about all this shit and I'm say something to the effect of, what the fuck do you do for your job? And he laughs and says that he sells medical equipment. Kieran tells me later that it's lasers, for like, dermatology or something. So he leaves to go upstairs and do something, and because I'm completely classless, I ask Kieran to put a price tag on the stereo system. He tells me. I choke. I then text Kristin that I am in a baller-ass house in West Seattle, listening to Wilco on a $50,000.00 stereo and digging the view. I send the text with the same gravity as, "I am flying over Tupelo with America's hottest band, and we are all about to die" kind of tone. And that it's fucking nuts.

I then go to myself, and say out loud, that I love my fort. I love my fort. I love not being married to my stuff. People with all kinds of stuff always romanticize about not having stuff. I embody (sp?) that. I love my fort. I love that my whole life fits in my car pretty much. I'm alright with my no-stuff, but it's fun to play with other people's fancy stuff, kind of like how kids are fun for five minutes when you don't have to take care of them full-time. That's what it all felt like.

So the house is stupid, the stereo is retarded, and to top it all off, this guy, Rob, the friend of Kieran's, has crazy mojo. Like, some kind of energy or something, I don't know, but he's charming and awesome and has all this fun shit to play with. But I'm drawn to him, he totally fascinates me, and I say things out loud when he rejects my choice of sushi with Kieran for lunch tomorrow like, "Dude. Give me a break. I make sixteen dollars an hour. Where else am I going to go for lunch?" without flinching. It's funny. The whole night is funny. The stereo is kicking my ass. I firmly believe I could have turned it all the way up, laid down on the floor, and died from the spectacularness of it all without being sad for a second. As I've stated recently, I think we can all put our hands on the speaker and get saved. And this guy had basically built the church for the kids that know the New Math.

The crazy part of it all is, and part of why I am fascinated with him and the science project I observe my mind / body to be in peculiar situations, is that he (Rob) only has one arm. And that's not even worth mentioning, because it doesn't have anything to do with talking to him, but the crazy part is that I didn't notice it for like, practially the first twenty minutes of being there. That's how much... something that this guy has. And I can't quite put my finger on it. But it was a blast to experience, even though I'll probably never see him again unless Kieran comes back out and we're all in the same place together or something. I am perpetually fascinated by my sub/unconscious.

So, he (Crazy Awesome Mojo Rob) likes Death Cab. I ask him if he has any older albums on Super CD-whatever. Sadly, he doesn't, but he's got some old Beck, and then we listen to Pink Floyd. And then the baby's up, and he has to go, and Kieran and I hang for a little bit until I remember that I have a job to go to and a drive home still. But before that, I decide I never want to leave. But then I had to go. And the drive home - well, it was my first lost-lost, and thanks to Kristin, I knew to head toward the three radio tower antenna things in Queen Anne. It got me through a little piece of not-so-nice town, I think, until the streets said E again and I cut up Madison from 23rd to Broadway. Phew. It got sketchy there for a hot second, but then it was fine.

So, yeah. That was my Monday night. And the potluck dinner at my Monday night meeting was great - I made plans with a girl to hook up for Wednesday for some big meeting, and then I'll hit Friday someplace too - and my numbers keep improving.

I just had to type improving ten times to spell it right. I've got to get some sleep.

I LOVE MY LIFE. Every single shattered beautiful fort-ready piece of it.

Kisses,
V.