The Light

Farf expressed some I don't what to call it admiration jealousy comment about my writing last night. Not my skill at it, but that I do it, that I record everything that it is my way of processing and absorbing life. It led to a conversation about what it is for me. Sometimes my actual life when I am living it feels like a whirlwhind. Sometimes I experience the experience more in the recording of it than in the actual experience. Sometimes my recording helps me distill moments to their essence, to figure out how I feel about something. And sometimes I want to get every detail down so I don't ever forget a second. Last night was one of those nights.

In life, there is a lot going on at once that all have the potential to affect a moment; smells, sounds, your thoughts, scenery, weather. Sometimes these elements add to the moment and sometimes they are all you remember about the moment. Sometimes they dilute the moment. Sometimes there is one thing that sticks with you out of an experience. The traffic was so bad that day and you were dying to get to where you were going and the anxiety of getting there eviscerates what happened once you arrived. You had to pee so badly during the first conversation with a guy you like and don't want to leave him to go to the bathroom but you are missing the whole conversation because all you can focus on is how badly you need to pee and you really want to remember everything he is saying but you don't. The unexpected intense barbeque smell on this guy you have been curious about for years who you finally get to sleep with which makes barbeque taste a little better forever but you want to kill yourself for not remembering every minute of the sex because you know it was damn good.

Last night was the sort of night where I want to remember every detail and I want to distill the night it to its essence. I want RC's hug where he picked me up and wouldn't let me go until he had spun me around and around so many times. I never wanted him to let me down. I want C remarking to me that she has never met V at the exact moment that V makes her grand entrance by falling down the stairs. I want my sister's toast and my brother having heated sports conversations with PF2 and Farf. I want to make Katri laugh her gut-splitting guffaw full bodied laugh when I tell her that my clapper was one of my all time favorite birthday gifts. I love making her laugh. I want to laugh hysterically when I see my ballooons for the first time that say, "Happy 3rd Birthday" floating everywhere. I want to open my huge-ass but really tiny present from D and BBAV that A wrapped in 30 boxes so I was unwrapping forever.

I want to walk around the table blowing bubbles on everyone adding to the fantasy element of the night. I want to see the favors on everyone's chair when I walk in in bags BE so lovingly designed with me as a super-hero (Fearless B) with the big fat-ass that I have always wanted.

I want to be intrigued when I see that one of the favors in the bag is bubbles. There are many reasons for the bubbles but when I saw them I couldn't think of one. My angels remember everything and communicated with each other and created this amazing fantasy. A. says she remembers me loving bubbles as a kid. Then one drunken night a few years ago, us Roosevelt Islanders talked about making baseball T-shirts with Roosevelt Island on the front and a word that starts with the first letter of our name on the back. BE was 'belligerent.' ML was 'man.' Farf was 'fresh' A was 'aphrodite.' They wanted me to be bubbles, supposedly not in a derogatory way but as bubbles are airy and light and fun; but I still didn't like it. I wanted to be bodacious. BE being belligerent, put her foot down. As it turned out, we never made the shirts. Since I know my sister had a hand in everything, she would have voted on the bubbles being part of the goodie bag because she thinks I live in my own personal bubble of non-reality and look out on the world through a pretty shiny floating bubble (despite my blogs of late, old perceptions of people you have known your whole life die hard). Needless to say, I spent dinner floating around the table blowing bubbles adding an aura of fantasy and my own special fairy dust to what was already a fantasy and something better than any dream I could ever have.

But see I can't take credit for the magic that the bubbles added because I had the help of angels who put the bubbles in the bag and empowered me to have magical powers for a night and to be and feel like a fairy princess. The bubbles covered the table in the beautiful stable with the warm lighting making all of my loved ones look even more beautiful than they already are making my heart want to burst with love and warmth and safety. I didn't want to eat the food; I wanted to eat all of them hug all of them love all of them kiss all of them and never leave that room.

A lot of us must have been affected by the fairy bubble dust because we couldn't leave each other after our open bar 4-hour dinner in the stable and we went to the bar next door where we stayed until last call. The after party is a whole other story. Loftus even paid us a visit.