I write to you from my bed, drunk and swoony. Yes, I can write drunk. Fuck you. Today was a pretty good day, and I would like to commemorate it here.
I woke at about 11:30am, sweaty and sad. The previous night, I had stayed up till 3am reading in bed with the window open so I could smell the sea air. I didn't want to stop and go to sleep, because every time I paused my reading, the mental pain and heartache would come rising back up to drown me. And eventually, mercifully, I was tricked into sleep by my book. So I woke late this morning, not in a great mood. I was brimming with nervous energy and I knew I should go for a run, I had planned to go for a run, but I was scared of the Outside, of the far from home and bed, and of the people and the tired. But I came to realise I would be miserable all day if I did not do this scary thing, so I pulled together a slapdash exercise outfit - old St Caths race shorts, old runners whose laces had been stolen by a mystery person, which I replaced with multiple sets of school shoelaces, my dad's race singlet. And I ran. I haven't run in a while, so I wasn't as I usually am, but that's okay. I'm learning to not be so obsessive.
While I was cooling down outside my house after my run, I saw a couple insta stories that, perhaps unjustly, made my heart break. As recently as yesterday I had decided that from now on, my life and everything I do will be directed solely towards either protecting myself, or self-improvement. And so, instead of letting myself mope, I took off to the city(ish) and got my favourite smoothie and caught up on my (3-day-old) insta feed while listening to podcasts. This adequately distracted me, and moreover, afterwards, I checked my emails to find that I had been awarded a New Colombo scholarship by DFAT!! Considering I hadn't applied for any such thing, my self-esteem was happy. I returned home to find that I had to quickly shower before I was to go to a film with mum and dad at Palace Verona. One-armed, this is not easy, but I did it, and wore my new underwear. Underwear really sets a tone, and not in a sexual way. But yes, we saw Loro, the new Paolo Sorrentino film about Berlusconi. I shan't spoil anything, but it's 2-and-a-half hours long and I liked it and so did mum but dad hated it with a passion, and that should be indication enough of what kind of movie it is. What I will say, though, is I love that's it's called Loro and not Lui. They named the film They, after the hoarde of naked girls Berlusconi entertained himself with, instead of Him, referencing, well, him. Reminds me of how I named that collections of poems Abel, after me, instead of Cain... but I should shut up.
Just before the movie I had gotten a text from Fede asking if I was in Sydney, for he's here with his brother and leaving tomorrow. I knew this meant that if I wanted to see him, it would have to be tonight. Being as I am me, I really didn't want to; I'm scared. But I thought about how David Dobrik would have done it "for the vlogs", and how this translates for me in my own way, and I thought about @f1ossy, who made the effort yesterday to ask her friend to hang out, and I knew I had to be social. And so, as I sat in Love Supreme after the movie with mum and dad eating dinner, I arranged to go for drinks with him an hour later. (Side note: at Love Supreme, I was looking around to see if I could figure out which waiter was the one that [redacted] had fucked. I concluded that it was the one who looked like a person I had briefly dated, whom [redacted] had also fucked.) I was very anxious to leave the whole time, but I made a point to not leave before my parents, even though my dad had said I could. I'm not a prat, nor am I desperate and anxious. (I'm all of these things.)
Eventually we got home, I put some hoop earrings on (
), taped up my cast a bit more so I looked less homeless, and went to Vasco in Surry Hills. After a few minutes of awkwardly waiting outside, I realised Fede and bro were already inside - I realised this when he came and found me. As I had worried, it was a lil awkward at first, mostly because of his brother, whom I didn't know and whom I was worried would find me obnOxious if I acted the way I usually do around Fede. Luca also can't speak English, so there was a bit of perfunctory conversation in my schoolgirl Italian. But I drank a cocktail and warmed up and it was fun, and, when I went to the bar to buy another drink, a random drunk man pointed to me and said to his friend, "she's laughing at us." I hadn't even noticed them before then, but his friend just said he was really drunk and they could only take him out once a month because he gets like that. So it was all fine and good, and when the drunk man offered his such friend a shot and he refused, he passed it to me. I shotted it, and for some reason they were impressed, and said "I hadn't expected that!" That confuses me. What else are you supposed to do with a shot?
We drank somemore, and my face got warm, and as I was in the bathroom, just before midnight, they announced last rounds. I had forgotten about Sydney's lock-out laws, but I was kind of thankful, because it provided a concrete end-of-hangout time. My first time staying out till lights on! Except it was like, 12:30 and not 5am as in Canberra lol. We walked the streets drunkenly for a bit, and then I tried to get an uber but my phone very conveniently died at that point, so Fede did it on his phone for me, which is very nice. The uber driver was interesting. I usually hate uber drivers who talk, because I'm shy, but with 3 drinks in me, I found it less anxiety-inducing. He played sad lovelorn Arabic music for me and we dorve past Fede and Luca walking back to their hostel swinging on a lampost waiting for a green light and we waved at each other, it was all very cute. And then, about 5 minutes away from my house, the uber driver said, "Do you have a boyfriend, sweetie?".
And my chest tightened a little like oh no, he's creepy. I giggled and said no, and he said I should, and I said GOD DAMN I'M WORKING ON IT OKAY. No, I didn't say that, but he started talking about how it's good to have a partner, and then started talking about how he misses his wife. I asked, oh, where is she? And he said, Iraq. He hadn't seen her in eight years. She can't come to Australia because she can't get a visa, and he's an asylum seeker. Oh. He has three kids. The youngest was three when he left, and now she's eleven and sassy. Oh.
We got to my house. I said goodbye, have a good night, and he waited for me to unlock the door and get in before he drove off.
I woke at about 11:30am, sweaty and sad. The previous night, I had stayed up till 3am reading in bed with the window open so I could smell the sea air. I didn't want to stop and go to sleep, because every time I paused my reading, the mental pain and heartache would come rising back up to drown me. And eventually, mercifully, I was tricked into sleep by my book. So I woke late this morning, not in a great mood. I was brimming with nervous energy and I knew I should go for a run, I had planned to go for a run, but I was scared of the Outside, of the far from home and bed, and of the people and the tired. But I came to realise I would be miserable all day if I did not do this scary thing, so I pulled together a slapdash exercise outfit - old St Caths race shorts, old runners whose laces had been stolen by a mystery person, which I replaced with multiple sets of school shoelaces, my dad's race singlet. And I ran. I haven't run in a while, so I wasn't as I usually am, but that's okay. I'm learning to not be so obsessive.
While I was cooling down outside my house after my run, I saw a couple insta stories that, perhaps unjustly, made my heart break. As recently as yesterday I had decided that from now on, my life and everything I do will be directed solely towards either protecting myself, or self-improvement. And so, instead of letting myself mope, I took off to the city(ish) and got my favourite smoothie and caught up on my (3-day-old) insta feed while listening to podcasts. This adequately distracted me, and moreover, afterwards, I checked my emails to find that I had been awarded a New Colombo scholarship by DFAT!! Considering I hadn't applied for any such thing, my self-esteem was happy. I returned home to find that I had to quickly shower before I was to go to a film with mum and dad at Palace Verona. One-armed, this is not easy, but I did it, and wore my new underwear. Underwear really sets a tone, and not in a sexual way. But yes, we saw Loro, the new Paolo Sorrentino film about Berlusconi. I shan't spoil anything, but it's 2-and-a-half hours long and I liked it and so did mum but dad hated it with a passion, and that should be indication enough of what kind of movie it is. What I will say, though, is I love that's it's called Loro and not Lui. They named the film They, after the hoarde of naked girls Berlusconi entertained himself with, instead of Him, referencing, well, him. Reminds me of how I named that collections of poems Abel, after me, instead of Cain... but I should shut up.
Just before the movie I had gotten a text from Fede asking if I was in Sydney, for he's here with his brother and leaving tomorrow. I knew this meant that if I wanted to see him, it would have to be tonight. Being as I am me, I really didn't want to; I'm scared. But I thought about how David Dobrik would have done it "for the vlogs", and how this translates for me in my own way, and I thought about @f1ossy, who made the effort yesterday to ask her friend to hang out, and I knew I had to be social. And so, as I sat in Love Supreme after the movie with mum and dad eating dinner, I arranged to go for drinks with him an hour later. (Side note: at Love Supreme, I was looking around to see if I could figure out which waiter was the one that [redacted] had fucked. I concluded that it was the one who looked like a person I had briefly dated, whom [redacted] had also fucked.) I was very anxious to leave the whole time, but I made a point to not leave before my parents, even though my dad had said I could. I'm not a prat, nor am I desperate and anxious. (I'm all of these things.)
Eventually we got home, I put some hoop earrings on (
), taped up my cast a bit more so I looked less homeless, and went to Vasco in Surry Hills. After a few minutes of awkwardly waiting outside, I realised Fede and bro were already inside - I realised this when he came and found me. As I had worried, it was a lil awkward at first, mostly because of his brother, whom I didn't know and whom I was worried would find me obnOxious if I acted the way I usually do around Fede. Luca also can't speak English, so there was a bit of perfunctory conversation in my schoolgirl Italian. But I drank a cocktail and warmed up and it was fun, and, when I went to the bar to buy another drink, a random drunk man pointed to me and said to his friend, "she's laughing at us." I hadn't even noticed them before then, but his friend just said he was really drunk and they could only take him out once a month because he gets like that. So it was all fine and good, and when the drunk man offered his such friend a shot and he refused, he passed it to me. I shotted it, and for some reason they were impressed, and said "I hadn't expected that!" That confuses me. What else are you supposed to do with a shot?
We drank somemore, and my face got warm, and as I was in the bathroom, just before midnight, they announced last rounds. I had forgotten about Sydney's lock-out laws, but I was kind of thankful, because it provided a concrete end-of-hangout time. My first time staying out till lights on! Except it was like, 12:30 and not 5am as in Canberra lol. We walked the streets drunkenly for a bit, and then I tried to get an uber but my phone very conveniently died at that point, so Fede did it on his phone for me, which is very nice. The uber driver was interesting. I usually hate uber drivers who talk, because I'm shy, but with 3 drinks in me, I found it less anxiety-inducing. He played sad lovelorn Arabic music for me and we dorve past Fede and Luca walking back to their hostel swinging on a lampost waiting for a green light and we waved at each other, it was all very cute. And then, about 5 minutes away from my house, the uber driver said, "Do you have a boyfriend, sweetie?".
And my chest tightened a little like oh no, he's creepy. I giggled and said no, and he said I should, and I said GOD DAMN I'M WORKING ON IT OKAY. No, I didn't say that, but he started talking about how it's good to have a partner, and then started talking about how he misses his wife. I asked, oh, where is she? And he said, Iraq. He hadn't seen her in eight years. She can't come to Australia because she can't get a visa, and he's an asylum seeker. Oh. He has three kids. The youngest was three when he left, and now she's eleven and sassy. Oh.
We got to my house. I said goodbye, have a good night, and he waited for me to unlock the door and get in before he drove off.
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