about molly | art | writings | contact | home
the avra valley dispatch:
August 02 2005 - Rainy Night Introspection -- Ignore this one if this kinda thing makes you noivous
Two years now I've lived on my little piece of dogpatch in the middle of the Sonoran desert among the meth addicts and rattlesnakes and sheet lightning and psychedelic sunsets and just-add-rain-and-they-appear froggies, hop hop hopping. Bay Area? Did I ever live there?
I'm still surprised at how easy of a transition it's been from hyper-urban, condensed, conspicuously wealthy Palo Alto to dusty and high lonesome Avra Valley. Are girls supposed to be hermits? How often do attractive, intelligent, urbane girls turn into hermits? I wonder.
So, more difficult than moving to the middle of nowhere has been embracing my hermitty-ness. When my (old) boyfriend lived here, we were pretty much joined at the hip and I liked that. It was great to come home to someone every evening and just hang out and ignore the rest of the world. Partners in crime, against the world, to the exclusion of all else. So, he's gone, and there's no one to hang out alone with every evening, and certainly that's sad, but I actually don't mind it now that I've been doing it for a little while.
In fact, I've noticed that long forgotten habits have resurfaced and taken hold again and I'm amused by the re-realization of them. I don't think of myself as a particularly malleable or doormatty, so I'm not sure why I would have kept them in check all these years. I've been told I keep my cards too close to my chest and that I can be very reserved, so maybe that's it -- I have trust issues or whatever they're called these days. But! No more of that, I say. Here we go:
Habits I've Established / Re-established Since I Am a Single Girl Again
rocking out, music on all the time
dancing in the living room and kitchen
cooking up a storm
singing out loud
eating leftovers over the sink
going to the Y (and the subsequent daily application of Derman athlete's
foot cream)
drinking bourbon
Cheap Trick: Live at Budokan
Tom Petty ("you know he speaks to you"*)
eating ice cream for dinner
driving nowhere in particular in the desert at night with the top down
walking around the house with the top down
not eating dinner
hookah smoking (vanilla, mmmmm)
sleeping wherever: on the porch, in the living room, in the playroom,
on the bed in the bedroom but facing the other way, in the Terry Trailer
guest house
eating meat -- I love and appreciate and respect piggies so much more
now than when I was a vegetarian
eating cheese: Stilton and apricot, smoked Wensleydale, Irish cheddar
are particular favourites
eating dark chocolate everyday
champagne or cava whenever
salad for breakfast
So ready yourself, future partner in crime person: this is what you're getting.
*referencing my own work, goodness...