Adventures in Los Angeles 4.2 – Dogs

December 13, 2008

So my laptop is acting like a complete asshole, and it isn't recharging like it should.  I've had this problem with it before, and it annoys me that I spent like 100 bucks to get the thing fixed about five months ago, and it's happening all over again.

I have a surly old Korean man to throttle.

Oh, and by the way… I'm absurdly jetlagged and drunk.  Endure what is sure to be crappy writing.

Hello all – I'm alive and well in LA.

I'm going to make this quick because it's late and I have to be up early tomorrow.  Just a few things:

Yesterday I didn't sleep – I stayed awake through the night to ensure that I'd sleep on the plane… which I did (hooray).  Sitting in the terminal, though, I was wide awake… and I got to peer at all of the other schmos who were on their way to this absurd city.  Here's the weird thing, five of them had small dogs with them… and, even weirder, they all looked like their dogs.  There was a ridiculous woman with a puffy helmet of permed hair – she had a caramel-colored poodle on her lap who she referred to as, "Snickers."  There was a snub-nosed woman with a shietzu (whatever, I'm too tired to look it up), and a lady with salt and pepper hair and a sharp little face, holding a black and silver spitz.  Strangest collection of people ever.

Tonight I heard Mark Doty (yeah, Mark fucking Doty) read a series of poems (which were fucking beautiful), and an essay about his dog.

I cried at the end of the essay.  I just sat there in the dark, quietly weeping into my hands like a damn fool.  My friend Hazel spied me in my blubbery mess and reached over to grab my knee.  She was crying, too.

You know – and I realize that everyone's probably tired of hearing me talk about my breakup (even I am, and believe it or not, I'm nowhere near as conflicted about it as I seem… this is just my outlet for my anxieties and frustrations relating to it is all) – I'm finding so many things to miss about Erin the more time goes by.  And the strange thing is that the more I miss her, the more I'm sure that I made the right decision.  It's just becoming more andm ore clear how not right it all was… even though I really wanted it to be.  I miss her – and I like that and hate it at the same time.  I miss her family, and the relationships I developed with them all – as remote as those relationships really were.  I miss them, and I love that and hate that too.

But I also miss her dog.  Lainey.  And there's no good about that.  I just miss her awful.  I miss her groans and her orangeness and her languid adorability.  Sure I loved the girl… but fuck did I love that dog.

If I had more energy and sobriety, I'd find a way to tie all of this together – turn the ladies into a metaphor… be a bit more descriptive about this or that… but I've ingested about a quart of whiskey and two microwavable burritos, and am regretting the latter with each gurgle of my gut.

So I'm going to just go to bed.

Hopefully I'll be able to post again.

So that's it.

Goodnight.

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