GOT TO MOVE ON / FOTSCHI TONG

Tonight marks the first instance of Mavis coming to lay with me. Our relationship has developed nicely: slowly, with trust steadily increasing each time I knock the "Garland Gang" away from her. With humans around, it's an awful, jealous battle between the three of them but methinks they get along quite well when alone. An early impression of Mavis is one I often recall: crossing the grass to the door of Erin's apartment, my babe stood on the porch, Mavis butting up against her bare legs just below the edge of her skirt. Mavis' tail flicked around one of ENB's calves and she ran inside. It's really the impression of both that's stuck with me.

Speaking of Erin, few things have given me the same satisfaction as the tricking out of her 1974 Schwinn Speedster. It started with a rear shelf, moved onto a few reflectors, and then original yellow grips and a front and rear tail light. It's so swank, it's fucking ridiculous. And it's the best ride in the world -- nothing I've ridden has matched it. It makes me want to set my bike on fire and ghostride it down a hill and into a ravine.

On Friday, Erin and I went for dinner at Zola. The Sazeracs were amazing and made me wonder why I sit around drinking Cognac straight when I could get some rye and blood orange bitters and enjoy myself that much more. We had the antipasto, which was fucking excellent as usual, and a whole fish (unfortunately, the name escapes me but it's a whole fucking fish cooked in parchment with Asian spices -- top notch!). We talked and talked and talked about stories, ideas, and revelations; never have I shared such a rapport with a partner.

It didn't hit me until we were sitting at Zola for a bit that I felt more in my element than I have at home lately. It was a strange but welcome feeling, with some disappointment. For the most part, it has to do with the stagnation of living in Michigan for so long. How I went from considering it one of the finest and most unique states in the Union to a big, fat fucking burden isn't so clear. I find myself craving not just a new locale but a perfect world: twilight, spirits, excellent food, bike rides, close friends, colorful but low-lit rooms, continuous music, and lots of conversation in between healthy & rigorous creative productivity. Oof. Haha -- is it asking too much?

That specific idea of a perfect world was something I was scratching at a bit with Thomas' birthday party. There weren't all of the elements I was hoping for (per the description detailed above) but it was close to the [sur]reality as I've come. It's not such a stretch that he came to mind as we lay into the antipasto and cocktails since we met there once or twice a week during his last few months in town for excellent conversation, laughs, and exchanges. Later, Travis came to mind. Our friendship took many, many turns during his stay in Michigan, some to my chagrin. That we didn't meet at more regular intervals during his later months is a disappointment but I think our interests and tastes have diverged and worked themselves out that it makes sense and is reconcilable. Still, his last night in town was one of the best of our friendship. For one of the first times (or perhaps the very first time) that Travis, Brian, and I got together, there was none of the tension that underscored the majority of our "hang sessions".

Anyway, out to dinner with ENB, I began feeling refreshed and elated in a way clearer than I'd felt in a few months. It was a true pleasure.