09.11.04

I went to a birthday party last evening. The invitation read "Dress swanky," so I did.

I'm in a downswing of hope right now. Even though I know it'll look up eventually, it's hard to drag my ass out the door and be social. As part of my anti-Pitiful Pearl strategy though, I had to go.

I felt my mood changing as I showered and primped. *Girly-ness program /start* I wore my black satin, gold chrysanthemum-brocaded, skin-tight, Squirrel brand (?!), cheong-sam; long, black stockings; my favourite black suede, vintage, spike-heeled, circa 1950s, pumps; and a lovely little mohair cardigan (it gets chilly at night in the Rose City). My hair was uncharacteristically well-behaved. Eye makeup--cat-like, and I had on my Defcon-5, watch out world, Xat's got attitude and to spare, Sex Star, red lipstick. Mmm-mm!*Girly-ness program /end*

Of course, you can't go to a party empty-handed. I stopped at a local discount foods warehouse-type store for a bottle of wine. I felt like an orchid in a field of daisies. It was kinda weird, truth be known.

As I looked at the wines, a man came up to me and said (in a marked German accent), "I've just recently moved to America and I don't know American wines. I'm looking for about a $10 red wine. Could you recommend anything?"

"I don't really know American wines either," I said, "I know more about Italian wines." He laughed and said that he did too. He wandered further down the wine aisle, in search of something to drink. After a minute, as I looked for my favourite inexpensive red, I noticed my stand-by red wine. "Hey, would an American cabernet fit the bill?" He nodded. I pointed one out to him, saying that it wasn't the greatest, but that it was consistent, and fairly full-bodied. He grabbed a bottle, said thank you. I wished him luck. He got back into line with his wife.

Lah. Look at me, amateur sommelier fille. *laugh*

After finding my really cheap bottle o' red, I wriggled out to ToraTorakku. (Really. That dress is SO tight!) Then off to Northeast Stumptown in the rain.

Y'know, it must be fated for me to move back south.

I talked to one of my dispreputable poet friends (we'll call him W.) for a while. He's got a friend who's starting up a company in LA and is dialed into a lot of people in the City of Angels. W. said that he'd e-mail introduce us so I can start networking for a job down there. Yay!

I talked to another guy, T., who has a small record label, and is an LA native. It started when I said something in Valley-speak, and he complimented my accent. He asked if I was from the Valley, and I said no. I'm from DC, but lived in LA for a couple of years. He and I talked about how we both loved and loathed the place. We agreed that the natives were the only real people there, and he gave me some hints on where to find them.

Boy, it really feels as though fate is shoving me southward. *grin*

I discovered another birthday brother, circa 1972. Treyluv, Binkie, and BB showed up late. Another girlfriend, LB, hung out with me for a while. That was nice. EmCeeCeeCee (the birthday boy) tried to give me a shinai (a bamboo sword used in kendo) as I left, but I demurred.

All in all, I'm glad that I got off my ass, shoved my woe-is-I attitude to a dark, disused corner, and went to the party.

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