white linen nights

perhaps i should move. this city can sometimes be claustrophobic. not sure if i like it or if it is suffocating. i think i like it, but i may sound peevish for the sake of this blog. if you're not in the mood for a self-indulgent recount of last night's happenings, stop here.
so last night: white linen night in the heights. whatever that means. in my case, it meant buying a little white and red linen number i would have never bought had there not been a dress code directive.

so M has a birthday today. we started our celebrations late afternoon...at the b-day party of a recent acquaintance of hers. i did not know said acquaintance, nor anyone mentioned when M is relating her chance meeting. so, i figure i won't know anyone...until i walk in and see a friend of an ex-boyfriend that i haven't seen in about 8 years. 1st random encounter.

we proceed to a series of galleries in the area. at the 3rd stop, run into miss N and gang, shoulder in sling and all...still looking astoundingly beautiful. (how does she do that?) didn't know miss N was going to be around, but not surprised, as i know N through the art set. as always, thrilled to see her. and meet her mom. (spoke with a fantastic collaborative artist...friend of M's. want one of his prints.) M and i part ways with miss N, and when waiting for the shuttle proves futile, M runs into two random friends of hers, and we catch a ride to 19th street with them. (we'll call these two gorgeous 1 and gorgeous 2. as is expected when meeting two dapperly dressed, GQ-inspired-if-it-weren't-so-cliched-not-to-mention-passe guys, they were a couple.) gorgeous 1 met M through a party i think. gorgeous 2 works for magazine. said magazine did feature last oct or nov on my theatre and partners. gorgeous 2 happened to work on that article. he also worked on recent article in same publication featuring M. random 2.

19th street. after 2 minutes, i see friend with whom i went to the music school. with wife. (fondest memory of music school friend was, after his systematically sitting next to me every day in theory and unmistakably hitting on me, finding out he had been dating a girl forever. coincidentally, his present wife. go figure.) that being said, s'all water under the bridge, but i nonetheless wasn't up to niceties, so M and i duck into a shop. where she runs into another acquaintance. exchange pleasantries with acquaintance and his side-kick in electric blue (apparently, he didn't get the white memo) and agree to meet for a drink next door at shade.

once next door at shade, we see not acquaintance and electric blue, but another friend of ours, S. didn't know S was going to be around. S is at the bar waiting for his entourage...i say this not due to S's pretense, but because S retains the sort of style that makes you wonder if he invented the white linen shirt. (although his was off-white... beige, if you will.) and furthermore, he also seems like a person who should have an entourage...mostly because of how the word sounds when said with his name. (i like to give S a hard time. he likes it.) since S is more or less stuck, we bid him farewell and continue our journey.

shortly thereafter, we run into acquaintance and blue-boy again. the crowds are getting thicker. it's becoming more and more difficult to navigate the aisles of the stores and innards of the galleries. M and i somehow run into the b-day posse again at M2. while there, i run into another unrelated person, kitty L. very happy to see miss kitty. (going to see her this eve.) we speak of perhaps onion creek later.

M and i depart M2 and make our way back the other direction, parting ways with all of the above. hear from D (i'll refer to him as brainiac) who i texted earlier that day. he's on his way to join. M and i are over 19th street at this point. crowded. like mardi gras, but significantly less colorful...

while waiting for shuttle, run into S again. and run into H, another friend of ours, who was also with her mother. (H is one of the coolest cats i know, but we are on our way out...so we bid her adieu.) brainiac swoops in and we make our way to onion creek...but not before stopping at the rockin party at coldwell banker. (seriously. who knew.) i, in a sudden fervor for exercise, suggest we walk to onion creek. (about 12 blocks, though i don't immediately realize this.) M suggests i make no more suggestions.

at onion creek, M runs into even more people she knows. i am more focused on my pizza. mister N finally arrives for the evening. (he promised to interrupt his med school apps for one drink with us.) mr. N and brainiac hit it off. of course. (why do all my guy friends have man-crushes on brainiac? really. it's an unexplained phenomenon.)

anyways...brainiac eventually ducks out and darling mister N brings M and i back to my car. we decide to cap the night off with a birthday drink. we end up at the social (the grand reopening). we see miss N there...by design this time, not chance. despite the good company, i remember why i so intensely disliked the social in the first place. (give me a good dive any day.) after being chatted up by one too many indistinguishable, jeans-and-button-down-clad guys, we lose track of miss N. M and i decide to make our escape while we can-we'll call miss N later. funny enough, miss N had the same idea-we reconvene in the parking lot and part ways for the evening.

M and i still haven't had our birthday libation. we stop by cobain. we leave cobain. like, 2 minutes later. it's like a cleaner social, but with no more character. equally difficult for us to digest. so, the journey continues. to poison girl...an old standard.

M and i sit on the back patio. we overhear a conversation about etymology. over beers. (etymology? seriously? ...at poison girl?) i can't help myself, so i lean over and ask what this heated etymology debate was about. as it was....about the word 'clue.' apparently, the origin of the word had something to do with yarn or disease or i-don't-know-what. in any case, this exceptionally nerdy guy (i normally find nerdy guys kind of attractive, but since he was one of those self-righteous, let-me-thrill-you-with-my-vast-knowledge-of-everything-including-but-not-limited-to-world-of-warcraft kinda guys, this 'nerdy' is not meant as a compliment) passionately rattled on to the point M's eyes started glazing over. i invited it. my bad.
i finally figure that asking this guy to get his crew to sing happy birthday to M might be an effective way to shut him up, so i do. to which he replies, 'i don't know.' (what?! are you kidding me?!) he and his emo-er-than-thou were too busy lamenting the folly of the uninitiated for a little good-natured birthday wish? lame. finally, we rally a birthday cry from the patio. good enough, i suppose.

at that point, this guy in what appears to be a velvet jacket shuffles by. (let me insert here that i have deep respect and admiration for anyone who will wear a velvet jacket outdoors in houston in august...a true sacrifice for fashion.) he walks inside..almost...but turns around to tell me he likes my dress. M and i think this is sweet. velvet-jacket-guy looks vaguely familiar. M and i finally decide to leave, but not after the obligatory nod at the etymology-police for their half-assed birthday song. as i am walking by velvet-jacket-guy, i realize i know where i knew him. myspace. (isn't it strange how you can know everything about someone without ever having met them? this periodically freaks me out, but it's a small price to pay in order to exercise some exhibitionist tendencies of mine. i mean, c'mon....let's be honest with ourselves.*) in any case, this guy had a particularly unusual facial expression in his profile picture and was, thus, memorable. as i pass him, i thank him for the compliment and he introduces himself. i think it might be fun to freak him out, so i pull the whole i-know-who-you-are routine. alas, he doesn't seem freaked out. i'm slightly disappointed. M and i leave, and i take her home.

(* i need to write a separate blog about my marvel at people refusing to post info on myspace or other blogs/websites etc. with the false notion that a good stalker won't find other ways to divine crucial information about you. particularly people thrust into the public eye for whatever reason. i mean, who are we kidding here?)

at this point, i don't feel like going home. i call J, lovely bartendress extraordinaire. a good friend of hers is there at the bar. i join them and chat with said friend, R. never met her. very fun and charming. R, as it turns out, has just passed the bar, moved to houston from austin, and is starting work as a lawyer. i joke that 90% of my childhood friends are lawyers...which is actually true. she tells me she's sorry. i tell her that it's actually a wonderful thing- i will be well-represented no matter who i murder or who sues me. (actually, now that i think about it, why is that? why ARE all my childhood friends lawyers? why am i such a loser?) anyways, i mention that my friend works for fulbright. well.......guess who else will be working for fulbright. "who is your friend? oh? really?! she was my recruiter. i know her really well. you've known her since you were 10? wow." we proceed to go through the laundry list of people we know in common. and so it goes.

R asks me what i do. i tell her where i work. random friendly guy at bar with girlfriend (who must be a cool cat if he's still there at 3 AM) overhears. "you work there? oh, i work at the alley." random. then, we proceed to go through the laundry list of people he and i know in common. and so it goes...and i start to think i'm living in the twilight zone.
and i like it most days. and nights. like last.
that's all.