About the bed slut and North Myrtle

McCain’s playing dirty. Obama would have loved to meet with the troops. Money can’t buy that type of PR, and any American would love to meet injured troops. Anti war doesn’t mean anti troop But as he took himself off the ballot in Michigan because it was against the rules, he didn’t meet with the troops.

I love Southerners. They bang at my door, almost invite themselves in, tell me their life stories and then tell me how gracious I am. Once is strange; but twice in three days is a pattern. There are townhouses in the complex for sale, and the lock box doesn’t have the keys. There are a lot of people home but I’m the only one who feels compelled to answer a door knock.

I’m not going to talk about my New York apartment until after the closing which should happen sometime in the decade so I won’t jinx anything and because I do feel so blessed to have an apartment that I can actually make a profit from.

After I close I hope to buy a patio house. They’re adorable houses with very little land and decks off many rooms and sometimes an inner courtyard, but not in the Mexican or South Western way.

I lived in a house in Oaxaca off the Pan American Highway that looked like nothing until you went into the courtyard. It was filled with sculptures, comfortable chairs, tables, plants and birds.

No these houses aren’t on that scale but I love them. Lucia’s used to going from the house to the beach to Wal Mart. I introduced her to the different hoods. She could never stand looking at the patio. We walked from the patio to an enchanted world filled with beautiful houses, community pools, and truly nice people.

I took her to Cherry Grove and she fell in love. I live in Crescent Beach/Ocean Drive. I spent months looking for Ocean Drive until I realized it’s a hood that personifies shag dancing. I have no idea what Ingram Beach is as I have only seen it on maps.

Sadly or not I learned that Lucia is a bed slut. When we were young we would share beds at times and she would hog the covers. Sometimes we would come to one or the other’s homes after a wild night with prey uh men and I have no idea if she hogged the covers or not. We don’t have that type of friendship. Once she and her sister C were staying at my studio on East 63rd Street. C lived in Atlanta and they didn’t have sex stations on cable yet. Lucia and I shared my bed, C took the couch.

She stayed up in awe watching the channels (have to editorialize and say I found them totally boring, but I guess if you’ve never seen people undressed on TV…) I would wake up every hour or so as Lucia would hog the covers or kick me;C was still talking. I think we had a six hour conversation that I didn’t remember at all. Apparently I’m very good at talking in my sleep or almost in it. That began C and my friendship–and now I’m her tenant.

This is a beach house so it has many beds and adorable roll up Urban Outfitter’s Chinese mattresses and other things like that. I offered Lucia every bed in the house including mine or rather C’s. Lucia was here for five nights and slept in four different beds or bedrolls. Always said she was a slut. And did tell her that if I had any same sex inclinations she would be the one.

I don’t remember what Lucia and I laughed about. Neither does she. We have an ability to look at each other and laugh.

When I first met her I was dating a guy at work who had a thing for the guy Lucia was dating. Lucia and I weren’t friends yet and were totally clueless as to their sexual adventuring, I guess is the phrase. It was the 70’s and people did things like that. Especially guys.

I remember one day Vinny had us follow them to the subway. I found that very strange. They were arguing and I finally realized what Vinny wanted as he almost jumped over the tracks to Ed’s side.

I was dating other guys. It was the one time in my life I could keep more than one guy at a time–I want to say straight but that doesn’t seem right.

Vinny was strange. We went to a party in a loft on the Bowery in his white Caddy–very embarrassing to begin with–but he kept running to the windows to see if it was still there or if the snow had covered it. I can’t believe I dated him for two New Years Eve’s which was a very big deal then.

Lucia and I became friends the following fall, after having never spoken to each other for a year. I don’t think there’s a person in the world who would have guessed we would have become each others true life partners in every sense but one and yes that is a big one.

To all the people who thought Lucia and my friendship was a flash in the pan, and we were very well known at our job which kept half the unemployed actors, artists and writers in New York in work, I say “I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Even if she is a bed slut.” It was weird but people delighted in talking about us.

This is number two in an occasional series on sluts.

And Cooper–who is anything but a slut and gave me a great award–I will be giving them out on Wednesday.

Can I still call myself a woman and a blogger if I didn’t go to blogher? It reads so institutionalized and “we who go are more committed and better bloggers than you who didn’t take the time.” My life’s been more than a bit unsettled and I wasn’t going to make reservations or commit to something I didn’t know if I could go to. San Francisco’s not exactly around the corner.
I read there was a panel for baby boomers. At one time I was the “highest ranked” baby boom blogger. It didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy; didn’t give me anything but a lot of unpaid work. I’m not into talking about menopause. I don’t have kids or grandkids. My career trajectory has taken me down unique roads
I haven’t been giving my all to blogging these past eighteen months or so and part of that is because I love my blogging friends but have no desire to reach out anymore. I’m tired. I’m disillusioned. Once I thought blogging held so much promise. Now I see every MSM magazine or paper have bloggers–paid bloggers. It lost that feeling of “I’m doing something well that not every person can do.” That was a great feeling and made up for the lack of pay. When Writer’s Digest for a quick example has newish bloggers who tell bloggers who have been blogging for years what they like in a blog, it’s time to be even more rad.
I’m not a prod placement blogger, a tech blogger. I write about politics but I would never consider myself a political blogger.
I’m a personal blogger who is a hopeless optimist and still believes that I can make something more out of my blogging.
I don’t know; I just find the mainstreaming of blogging to be sad. At this point in my life I have to ask not what I can do for the larger blogging community but what I can do for me. Somehow I think going to blogher would have helped cement certain things, but my life’s unsettled and more than anything last weekend was the one weekend all year I want to be all about me. One spent not trying to sell myself or my blog but in comfort with an old friend laughing over nothing