Meet Viriginia!!! Touring Seattle & Mystery of an Image

http://www.last.fm/music/Train/_/Meet+Virginia

First song I wanted to hear today BUT I did hear this great Sax rendition of "skylark" in the car on the way back to my house today.

So, you have to check out this video on the link and see this woman featured: virginia. What cracked me up was...I don't know, several parts had me laughing out loud. The first part I laughed at was when he first says "she's beautiful", and this photo of her in sweats all sloppy comes up. Totally cracked me up. By the end of the video, you can tell this IS a beautiful woman, inside and out, but the comedy of it cannot be escaped. It's like the white trash hell hole backdrop. I LOVE it! I like the part where he first says, "Meet virginia" and she has this crazy look in her eyes with her glasses on. I liked the smokes a pack a day--wait, that's me, and this crazy guy whose photo comes up. Her little positions with the "crowns" behind her head like a halo cracked me up too. And then I love the part where the cat is kneading her back while she's on the bed. I don't know. Just dry to me. Funny.

So maybe I was thinking of this song when I got the computer because when I got into the car of my friend, I saw this card face up and it was a Queen. And, well, you know, my train of thought is off the chain! So one thing leads to another and I wanted to hear this song.

So I stayed the night at this friend's house, but no, nothing happened. No kissing or anything. We were just having fun in general. Went out and I had mussels and a martini and then we drove around Seattle. I guess Magnolia is supposed to be highly desirable, and it's at the top of the hill overlooking the bay. Pretty, but too tranquil for me I think! Isn't that funny? But I was looking at the calm, and wondering why the ocean didn't have more of a storm to it and then he said it's because it's Puget Sound. The houses are multi-million dollar houses. But I don't think that's where I would choose to live, if I could choose anything. I like the view of the water but I think it would lull me to daydreaming absentmindedly. You know what I need?

Water and some stars. Stars as in lights. I like the lights of a city. I want a little bit of water during the day, and then a view with city lights at night.

I think there was this part of Ravena that I liked. We were driving through Ravena and I liked something about it. Saw a really cute English cottage with a red door and then around the corner, I caught a glimpse of the view I preferred. It was on a hill and next to the water, but then there were other houses across on a another hill. Sort of a grecian thing with houses climbing but next to water, and then I imagine the lights are really pretty at night.

I'd take the right kind of high rise too. :)

So this guy I went out with is hilarious, analytical, and fun. After we drove around with the top down, which was fun, he asked if I wanted to watch some Woody Allen movies. Yes! I was actually in a movie mood and how could I refuse Woody Allen? So I did tell him we had some other options, to meet up with people at Nectar or to go to my workplace where I had planned to show up and then didn't because I had gone along with this other friend and it was his decision too. So then we watched "Vickie, Christina, and Barcelona" and he showed me where he lived. What part of Spain. This new friend is from Spain.

He told me I should be a therapist and thought I'd be a good one--said that I was a good listener and people needed that. How nice! i thought! I try to listen as much as I talk, but I don't always know if I'm doing a good job or not. I do focus on the person though, and really "listen" when they're speaking, usually.

He asked which woman I was, between Vickie, Christina, and the crazy ex-wife. I looked at the crazy ex-wife rolling paint with a paintroller, in abandon, and thought, hmmm. Well, I have that passion (unfortunately, not that talent). But I'm not like her. I'm not really Christina either because I'm not THAT free spirited, but I am like her in that I'm tolerant and not jealous of other women, typically, and try to go with the flow and I work on my intellectual endeavors in a non-traditional way. And then I do have some of the reserve of Vickie but i know I'd get out of "boring status quo" before I were trapped forever...in that kind of a dull and very boring marriage where everyone is talking about the cost of persian rugs. I'd rather talk about the Persian revolutions or poetry or art. Not the cost of a rug and redecorating with Mr. sort of creative but knows when to "back off".

Then we started to watch "Match Point". I really, really, liked it but I was falling asleep after so many glasses of Spanish champagne. This one guy reminded me of someone. The English guy with the blue eyes. Really reminded me. He said it's a story about choosing between 2 men or actually, between 2 different women. One who is proper and one who is not socially "correct" or is different in some way.

I started wondering what the theme was. He also asked me if I'd seen Sophie's Choice. I had, a long time ago. I couldn't remember what it was about and he said it was about this woman who has to choose between a normal man she loves, and this schitzophrenic man she loves but with whom she knows the future is very short. I asked which she chooses and he said she chooses the schitzo.

Hmmm. Choices, choices, choices.

And we talked about crazy people. Crazy in truth and crazy in spirit. And what is crazy? and what is borderline genius and then madness and where is the line? and do we want to medicate it?

So we get there to his place, and I'm seeing all these things everywhere where it's like a den of my images. ladybugs, pressed flowers, knives, watches and clocks, books, including the odyssey and then niezche and kerouc and ducks. And a bunch of things. even colonges of former boyfriends. ballet posters. car stuff. it was sort of a novelty shop. Comfortable, with lots of books and movies. And, I noticed, this chair which I called the "psych" chair. I said that was the chair I'd use if I were a therapist, and then that couch would be where my patients lie down or sit.

I wonder if anyone has ever gone to therapy and instead of talking, just curled up and announced, "I'm going to take a nap." like some upper class privileged kid whose controlling parents have demanded he go to therapy so he goes and defies every rule anyway. And in my movie, he says, just before closing his eyes, "Oh don't worry, I talk in my sleep." And then he maybe tells the shrink to pay very, very, close attention because the psyche is freed at night. And then he asks the shrink if he wants to listen to some music and hands over his ipod for Kid Cudi: "the lonely stoner seems to free his mind at night..."

Anyway, this Spanish guy had four cars. He drove the Ferrari first and it didn't totally seem to be his car but I guess it was. I don't know though. He seemed to not totally know his car. Then he had three others, one BMW, one Mercedes (both under wraps) and then a kick-around car. He said the next day we'd drive a different car home. He took the kick around car with the Queen car. I wondered if the other cars had different cards face up on the deck. Like, one has a Joker and one has a Spades, or one has a King. Just being imaginative.

So we were sitting there and he asked me about God and he said he didn't believe in God and I said I did. Then he asked if I wanted to wear something more comfortable, a different sweater. My own sweater was fine but I'm like okay...cashmere...fine. So I put on this cashmere sweater and then said to him, looking down, "I look like a nun" right after telling him I could have been a nun some years back. I said I could have done the poverty vow no problemo and even chastity as a sacrifice, but the whole "obedience" bit? FUCK YOU! He laughed and said he'd been recruited for Opus Dei to no avail. He said some are very, very, religious. So he was asking me if I could be a nun and I said, I could have been and then looked at what I was wearing and said, "I look like a nun" and said, "All I need is a crucifix" and he said wait a minute, because he had something for me and he goes to this cupboard and I see a Tiffany's box from the corner and he's going through boxes and then comes out and shows me it's from Tiffany and it's a cross. So he put it around my neck. Then I looked at it and I thought it had belonged to someone else because it had a slight cut in it and was a little bit tarnished, I think, like silver needs to be polished, but I'm not sure, and he said no, he just had things lying around.

Okay, so here is where I am on my whole "privacy" and respecting others' business stuff...

I am staying with this woman who is a writer and who has tons of personal diaries lined up in her bookshelf. I've not looked through even one of them. Not once. It could be interesting, but as of now, I feel it's none of my business and I don't care to know. On the other hand, I was wondering why this guy just happened to have jewelry lying around so when he was in the shower....

heheheh.

So I made sure he was in the shower and it wasn't just idle water running. You have to hear the splash of water on skin because otherwise, you know, he could pop out at any minute. So he was splish-splashin' and I opened the cubby and there was a little mountain of boxes. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something true. Looked at stuff really fast, and put all of it back in its proper place and that was it.

What can I say? I'm not a thief. But i AM very curious! So I was just wondering. But looking at something like that is not as personal as reading someone's diaries and just plowing through their things. Don't you think?

I'm going to finish this in a minute...

Yeah, so anyway, he lives in Queen Anne, which is a good area. I'm in a good part of Ballad, close to Fremont with all the shops and harbors and docks.

I'll write about this elsewhere, but i told him about my eggs in white wine idea and he said his grandfather drinks this! Or used to drink this all the time. I'm not convinced my egg in white wine had to do with his grandfather. I think someone in this time and era had that drink that same morning, somewhere in the world, or that I was connecting to someone who is really special to me that I've known longer, more than a few days, whose family had this as a tradition or habit. Or an old, old, ancestor, by close or distant relation. I think it's about someone else though, and their family.

When we were driving around, my new friend kept saying wow, my break-up was "new" or recent and everything and I said, "Yeah, but I haven't cried about it or anything." He said, "Well you would be a GREAT spy then". earlier, he'd asked me if I knew who Mata Hari was.

Mata Hari.

Whaddya think boys? Am I a Mata Hari? ;) I will shoot you with my sexy leg-- Annie's got her gun.

I told him, no, I think I'm more of a Forrest Gump. Someone just wandering along, getting into weird trouble and meeting great people and not even realizing the significance of who they're meeting and what the hell they're doing!

He kept or "stole" from the cafe, something about the Italian prime minister and I kept or "stole" an article about the Russian journalist who was featured on the New York Times today. I sympathize! But this guy had a little more foresight than me and he knew how to protect himself and had a little money to do it with, by carrying cameras around with him everywhere. He writes about police corruption and bad mob interconnectedness with police and anything that might be or IS a harm to the public interest. And I mean,when the police aren't doing their job at protecting people, but are serving their own interests.

Maybe journalists like me a little bit and we understand eachother, because we know the dangers of being punished for what we write about. There are consequences. I think it's more dangerous to be a journalist, an investigative one or one willing to take on the most powerful and monied or at the top, than it is to be a secret "spy". Journalists are all out there with what they write and spies have to be very careful, but they are kind of protected, sometimes their entire lives and other times, only for a short time if they get caught, by their silence and secrecy. Journalists cannot be "secretive" if they're doing their job, at least not as a final product of their work.

My new friend said he was impressed with my literacy and knowledge of different things and asked how I knew all this "stuff". I told him, "I read" and he said there is something to "curiousity" too. But it's true. College is for inspiring student and directing them to read good works. If you're science or in a hands-on field, you need tutorials. But other professionals or liberal arts especially, just involve reading things and looking at art and exposing yourself to art. So you can do it on your own if you want to.

My back was really, really, hurting STILL, after working on Friday. I love the work but I know I need to get something like a painkiller that will help for when I have to be on my feet. My new friend recommended I apply for disability for my back but I WANT to work. I MAY have to apply for a partial disability, for short term, but I really NEED to make money and want my son living with me FT. So I'm doing what I can to get there, against the odds. I tried the advil (4 of them) and it didn't help my back so I think I need to get a prescription for just occasional use when I work, or for "after work".

I had been off of all narcotics for about 2 weeks or so and I thought the back stuff was better, until I was on my feet for 3 hours. And I WANT to do the waitressing/bartending and being around people. I need to get a prescription to cover when the herniated discs are acting up or I won't be able to do my job. And I don't need to be on something 24/7. I just need the temporary, patch-me-through pill now and then.

I tried the advil and tylenol and it doesn't cut the mustard.

Oh, I forgot, I told my friend, after he gave me the cross pendant, that I needed some really thick old solid black sneakers to complete my nun look. He laughed. Then we were talking about fashion and I was telling him how I thought this one skirt I had was sort of hookerish but more Dolce Gabbana, and then we talked fashionn and then I said how much I like PRADA. I like all their ads, they're brilliant, and I love the clothing. I like Italian style. So he said I couldn't be a nun if I liked Prada.

We were later talking about something else, and plastic surgery and I told him how Exxon had asked me what I would have done, if I were to have plastic surgery. He said, "If you could choose to have ONE thing done, what would it be?" and I said, instantly, "My fingerprints!" and put my ten fingertips on the dash and made a ssssssssssssssss burning/sizzling sound. Like I was having my fingerprints erased by pressing them on a hot burner. He cracked up laughing.

So my friend says, "Um. Hmm...So, what did your fiance DO?" and I said, "Oh, construction." I told him construction and maybe mafia or Colombian embassy and maybe U.S. stuff too. He asked if he was a drug dealer. How many people ask me that?!!! I say, "How would I know?!"

Like a mafia don is going to TELL his fiance that's what he is. Come ON people. But no, he said he wasn't into it and I never saw him doing anything and he didn't even use drugs, to my knowledge. None of the people I was with did. They were all "clean" types. As far as I knew. And OFFENDED when people tried to discriminate or assume they were big criminals or dealers or cocaine users bc they were from Colombia. Most Colombians don't even use cocaine or approve of it. They sell it to Mexico, as supplier and growers, and then Mexico is the distributor and then U.S. people are the joint distributors and CONSUMERS.

So that's all I know!