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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Wah wah

I’ve really got to stop going on these 4-day cross-country jaunts. Sure they can be fun but they are fucking with my circadian rhythms. I spent just enough time in California for my body to think it was back home, then I turned around and flew in the opposite direction. I feel like the sound of a wah wah pedal.

The desynchronosis extends to many other things in my life. Like being in SF when she was not (may her diary RIP,) enjoying snowboarding when I no longer had access to free gear and lift tickets, moving to France at 19 and ruining an adorable crush. The good news is that as out-of-synch as I often feel, there’s a lot that happens with perfect timing. I always have to remember the opposite, equal reactions.

That adorable crush? He met someone else while I was in Nice, had a kid, moved to LA, became a dj. I wouldn’t want that to be my life, not now, not 10 years ago.

So… the trip.

We got in late Friday, and everyone was exhausted: my younger sister, G de P, us. Instead of drinks, we decided to have breakfast at an old haunt, The Pork Store.

At 9:30, I was re-u-nited with Gentry, and it feels so good! She was a Pierre Hermé macaron of adorableness and tinyness, all wrapped up in her stylish asspants and pink trench. And the shoes! My god, the shoes! Little wedgie espadrilles with little Carmen Miranda fruity flowery details at the toe. Cuuute!

To think I hadn’t seen her in 3 years. It was as if no time had passed at all. We had breakfast, drank coffee, shopped on Haight Street, took pictures at Wasteland (which I hope will come out) then headed over to Mr Bingo’s.

Mr Bingo lives in Gentry’s old building, in an apartment that is nearly identical to the one she used to live in. So it was flashbacks for everyone. A window-shopping and shop-shopping trip to Hayes Valley later, we repaired to the Orbit Room for drinks. We had pints and sat by the big windows and watched the Market Street parade. The weather was fantastic.

San Francisco doesn’t change. Maybe architecturally, there are some new things, and perhaps hipsters’ uniforms change every few years, but the general vibe of the city is exactly the same as it’s always been. The same! It made us all wonder what would have happened to us if we’d stayed.

After dropping Gentry off at her friend’s house (who was a stone fox,) and being very sad about saying goodbye, we took naps and readied for the wedding (which was fine, but peopled by many, many Irish folk and yes, they are friendly and nice, BUT incomprehensible after a few pints. I love them but I can’t understand a goddamned thing they’re saying. We won’t be moving to Dublin anytime soon.)

Here’s something that drives me crazy about weddings: I don’t get preparing for one for more than a year, and then only spending 5 minutes on the ceremony. If it’s such an important declaration of love and devotion, shouldn’t it last longer? Like, shouldn’t you make your friends and family sit through at least half an hour of poems, solemn readings, musical interludes and romantic mumbo jumbo? If it’s all about the party, why not just elope then throw a party?

Makes me sad how much money people spend. That cash could be put to better use on real estate, international travel, or college funds. My tante Pauline once told me not to have a wedding. “Take that money and travel the world. People only remember the food at weddings.” She was probably 80 when she said that.

The rest of weekend went something like this (and I’ll elaborate later):

- Sunday slept late, friends came over, went to Amoeba, bought 20 cds, ate a burrito, got a coffee, walked around the Inner Sunset, said goodbye to friends, went to parents’ house, ate a huge Thai feast, laughed until my stomach ached when Terence’s tooth fell out again

- Monday got up early, had some tea, bought 4 lbs of Peet’s coffee, dropped my younger sister off a work, returned rental car, got on plane, watched that terrible boxing movie with Meg Ryan and her new surgery, arrived in CT at 9:15pm.

11:44 a.m. - 2004-05-05



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