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This weekend was good. Splendid even.

Its been awhile since I could say that. Well, say it and have it mean my weekend entailed more than sitting on the couch with the kitteh watching Battlestar Galactica. Which isn’t to say that those weekends were/are bad, just … well. I like more than that. I love to lounge with the best of them, but after awhile? I get fidgety, I get bored, I get antsy. Weekend tv marathons are a must for me while I hermit/hibernate and recover myself. But now? Game on.

Friday night involved RedFairy, alcohol, some potentially illegal substances and DiveBar burgers, which. The DiveBar burgers? BEST IN THE CITY. Hands down.
I discovered DiveBar through the expedient way of working across the street from it when I first moved to town. We’d order lunch from there, or swing by and grab a beer after work. It had a bar poker night Tues/Thurs that I started going to on a lark.  DiveBar taught me how to play Texas Hold ‘Em. I got pretty good at it too. My skills were all gleaned from the older players, who took the time to let me watch, perched behind them. I would see how they played their cards, sometimes asking why quietly and they’d lean back and tell me. Or they’d stand behind me when their game was over and watch as I played, sometimes with advice, moreoften with none. I learned slowly, but I learned. I even ‘won’ two of the games, which means I got a special chip. The chip could have bought me entrance into the Grand Ol’ Game downtown. I never went.

I’ve thought about going back and slipping back into the game. I’m sure some of the guys are still there, though more won’t be. But it’d be nice to be back in that rhythm. Another way to meet more people – to learn more about this city I’ve lived in for what feels too long.

This bar was the first place that felt like home to me. Weekend nights I’d start off at the college dance bars that were just a few miles down the road, but without fail, I’d end up at DiveBar. Entirely too far to walk, tho I imagine I may have once. More likely I just made friends and got myself there. In hindsight beyond stupid, but when you’re 22 and drunk and pretty… you disregard lessons learned when you were 5.

So Friday was bonding time with RedFairy. As much as I’ve been going through – she has been going through it tenfold. Her man and here were living together, in a house they bought together, when she realized they wanted different things. I was forunate enough to realize that about my relationship before it got to that point. Scary thing, I could have easily seen it going to that point. When you want something to work so badly…. But it didn’t get there, it didn’t work. It resulted in me, in a better living situation than I have been in years and the opportunity to go home again. Even if it was just to grab burgers.


I shouldn’t talk about staying injury free and not hurting myself, because then? Then I do.
Went out to a show last night with one of my girls, BlueFairy. Great show, entirely too many drinks (red bull / vodka / splash of grenadine), entirely too much dancing and walking around without a coat…

All was great – her bf was our DD. I do so love having a free taxi driver. Especially one that detours to Wendys. Ahhh drunk food. Got back to her place, ate, helped em move a mattress, sobered up, and went to drive home. It has been snowing a lot lately, and the streets/sidewalks are not really clear and in this area, not really even either. Down I went.  Made it to the car, defrosted it and the rest of myself and headed home.

It was a great night, exactly what my newly single self needed after two dinner party evenings. A night out on the town with booze, greasy food, and good peoples. I, of course, managed to make at least 4 new friends over the course of the evening. I also bought cigarettes (I don’t smoke… much) and was passing them out at the bar. Because why not!

And then I fell. And as I drove and I started wondering if I’d really hurt myself again and if I’d need crutches and if I did, if I would borrow NiceGuy’s again. It hit.
I missed him. I missed crawling into mussed sleepy sheets with him. Coming in from outside and how he’d wrap over and around and under me until I got warm. Waking up, slightly hungover to bad jokes and awful breath and the way he’d look at me that would break my heart. I wanted to call him. 2 in the morning on a weeknight. He wouldn’t answer. I know that sober, but then, at two in the morning…. I wanted to believe. Believe that he’d hear the phone and see my name and he would answer. That this time things would be different, he’d realize what he was letting go and he’d refuse to do it. But he never refused anything.
Except me.
I”m a fickle bitch. I know that even if he had answered and we’d had that moment… eventually I would have resented him. Resented that I had to be the one to weaken first, to bend first, to make that call. That while he missed me and we were doing this again, I was the one who had to admit that I wanted him more, first.

So I called Carrots. And I called RedFairy. And finally I called BlueFairy, the friend I’d just left, knowing she would still be awake. She talked me through the drive, up the stairs, into my safety.  I showered and fell into bed.

No regrets this morning, except a twinge in my foot and one in my heart. Because even in the stark light of day… I still want to believe that if I’d called…. he would have answered.

Am not feeling like typing anything I said I was going to. So. Moving on.


I went this year, first year. And it was totally worth it. Having now been to Rothbury / Bonnaroo / Lollapalooza, I have to say Bonn is at the bottom. They will have to have an AMAZING line up for me to go next year – I’d rather toss my money to the hippie fest at Roth and then go rock out at Lolla.

Even with the weather starting as cold / rainy / uninspiring – I saw some fabulous shows and made some awesome new friends. Though I will say that I often felt like the odd one out. Which is impressive given that I was staying with Carrots (as in she is Carrots and I’m Peas – we go together!). It was a mini reunion of sorts for her friends she studied with in London. All 3 of them live in Chicago or NY, and then there is me – semi-big city in MidWest. Not famous by any means, but not horrible either. Its cheap to live here, I can afford to go out drinking and have a car and indulge my shoe fetish when I wish. But I definitely felt… which one of these is not like the other.

So I did what I do, which is to say – I made friends whenever I could. Talked with strangers in line, on the L, on the bus, at the festival. And I shared what I could – sunscreen, water, shade. Its what you do. And that is part of what makes me who I am. Even though I definitely felt… well not looked down on, but they thought it was “cute” that I did that. Whatever, I find comfort in talking with strangers, identifying, even if just for a moment that you shared an experience with them. Be it a smashedclose L ride or an amazing concert.

So Fri/Sat/Sun all became a blur – a fantastic blur filled with some of the  people I love best in the world and some seriously great new music that I was so excited to see live and so close.

Shows I saw (so I can remember):

Friday: Bon Iver / Ben Folds / Fleet Foxes (!) / The Decemberists / Kings of Leon

Saturday: Gomez / Arctic Monkeys / Santigold / TV on the Radio / Ben Harper / Yeah Yeah Yeahs / Bassnectar

Sunday: Back Door Slam / Bat for Lashes / Portugal. The Man / Kaiser Chiefs / Vampire Weekend / Passion Pit / Cold War Kids / Snoop Dogg / Silversun Pickups / The Killers

It was exhausting and exhilarating and every time I sit down to write about these type of weekends, words fail me. Rothbury was probably one of the most profound instances I’ve ever had – just the combination of the company and the music and general fantasticness was great.

Lolla wasn’t quite there – but the music (and the ability to take showers every night and sleep in a real bed) was beyond amazing.

I took the bus home on Monday, sun-dazed and music-soaked. And back to the real world. I will say that these festivals reminded me of passion and creating and oh how I needed that wake up call.

Its okay to believe in Prince Charming, but you have to believe in midnight too.

disarming (adj): tending to allay suspicion or hostility; winning favor or confidence siren (noun): a seductive or tempting woman, esp. dangerous or harmful