Meet the new addition to my family.


A sweet little classical guitar that joins my other...


The divorce settlement (a steel string amped acoustic)... the only thing I asked from the ex when we split up.


I got the husband-of-christmases-past to come along to test drive any suitable guitars, and I finally settled on this one. Now all I need to do is learn to play well enough to do it even the remotest bit of justice. I bought him lunch afterwards, and we nattered and talked music and just generally talked. And as I sat there with him, I realised how lucky we are that we still have this. That we have managed to salvage the little bit about each other that we've always liked, and not let all the ugly history spoil that. So we can have a friendship that is sporadic, no strings, no expectations, enjoy each other when we see each other, but have no desire to make it anything more than what it is. I am really grateful for that.

Of course, now I'm broke again, but hey. I'd rather be broke with a nice guitar, than have money in the bank and nothing to play.

I'm not a gig-pig. Honest I'm not.

... But tonight we saw Regurgitator! and it was fun!! FUN!! I danced like an unco middle aged woman with bad ankles and too much energy, I bounced annoying people who encroached on my body cylinder back into their own space (ahhhh thank you basketball coaches of teams past), with a smile and an inferred promise that I was not moving an iota so they'd better find someone else to stand in front of.

The night was just what I needed after an exhausting and slightly soul sapping week at work.

My feet hurt, and my back might never forgive me, but damn I feel a bit more like Hooch again.

It's a Saturday morning and I should be running around trying to clear up at least one layer of crap before my mother visits this afternoon, but I'm not. I'm reading blogs. Well, you can't say I'm not consistent when it comes to procrastination.

My week was a tad stressful. Keeping a written record like this is interesting because it really does bring to the fore the cycles that you repeat. Like going insanely broke waiting for cheques that do not arrive. I have my mailman's schedule memorised. He passes the house across the street from me between 1.45 and 2.00. I know this because I waited for him on Tuesday, with anticipation and hope, on Wednesday with hope and a slightly unsettled feeling in my tummy, on Thursday, with growing despair as I saw my looming eviction from my home and wondered how was I going to get internet access when I was living out of a trolley, and on Friday, when he was running an hour late, and the cheque finally turned up. YAY. Now I just have to wait for it to clear (Wednesday) and then I can pay all the people who have been patiently waiting for their bills to be paid. Double YAY.

And I can buy the nylon string guitar that my teacher thinks would be a good idea as I seem to be heading towards more classical pieces, and it will be much easier for me with one (and of course I hate the idea of another guitar... of course I don't!! Gadget girl, that is me).

Ummmm what else has been happening. Work has been sporadic. Lots of last minute cancellations. I think next week could turn into a hell week, as all those postponements are going to have to happen soon. Not much play, due to broke-ed-ness.

Oh, my sister and I are taking my mother out tonight for a surprise (which is why I SHOULD be cleaning, why she is visiting). We are taking her to see Nine Inch Nails. That is going to be fun!

Alright, enough putting off the inevitable. Must....clean...before...going...to...lesson. Muuuuuuust...cleeeeeeeeean.

Bleh.

More news soon.

Is there something about death that makes you suddenly want to lecherously touch everyone around you? Seize the day? Seize the attractive man next to you. Is it wrong to be perving at a funeral?

I have all of a sudden been dreaming about kissing. What has sparked this? At least the dreams are realistic enough to not be romantic. The manchild kisses me as a dare, as a way to make me uncomfortable. But it is I who turns the tables when he is shocked and overwhelmed by my enthusiastic response. Should I be embarressed to dream about the manchild in such a way? He has done nothing to provoke it. To encourage it. We do not even speak. If I open my mouth, I say backhanded things. I can't help myself.

Female Friend: When are we going to come to another of your soccer games?
Manchild: Well, I'm not playing for two weeks. [red card tch tch]
Hooch: You assume you were the drawcard?
Manchild: Oh.

Yeah, good one Hooch. You dick.

I have this ability to say incredibly biting, rude, nasty comments whenever I am nervous around people. Especially if I'm attracted to them. Great, huh.

So life goes on. I went into a coffee shop yesterday and the last time I was in there I bumped into my friend, laughing and joking. It was one of those take a deep breath and smile at the memory moments. But at least I'm realistic enough to know that life doesn't change overly. My work is still sporadic. My bills are still unpaid. My house is still a mess. And I feel like at some point in the last 6 months, I've lost my laugh. I dream about running and snogging. Maybe I can dream about laughing again too. That'd be so nice.

Fitting Farewells

Monday morning I woke up feeling strong, like I could brave anything. I spent the morning talking via email with a friend who was delivering a eulogy, helping him refine his speech. And then I prepared myself and met up with people I used to work with to go in to the crematorium together. Amy and I greeted each other with a kiss and squeeze of the hand, although we didn’t speak at all.

The service was beautiful; funny and slightly irreverent, just like my friend. We cried and laughed at the same time as stories were recounted. I didn’t try to be brave during the service. I just let the tears course my cheeks. Once the service was over, the chapel doors opened and we left to the distinctive tune of Sid Viscious singing "My Way"… a fitting tribute if ever there was one.

Afterwards, we all met at a lovely little pub and drank and remembered our friend and met her extended friends and family. I think I got home around 1am; our friend would have been proud.

I miss her, but I really feel like I was able to be a part of something that helped us all. Her family is taking her back to the UK, where they will give her ashes to the breeze atop the highest peak. She was always a free spirit.

Our friend was the lynchpin for our group of friends. Without her, I think we will drift apart, slowly. I know none of us will ever forget her, though.