(The Breaking of) Time Capsules

Tonight we sat at a local, filthy queer bar that I've been reclaiming piece by piece.  We sat next to each other and for the first time caught up past our needed conversations. We filled each other in on the people who have mattered in our lives over the last three years.  I got to tell you about one of my favorites and you said, "Wait. Isn't that your brother's name?" and I laughed and said "Yes, and that's the reason she wouldn't let me introduce her with that name when she met him." It felt good to tell you about her. It felt as if she hadn't fully existed until I was able to tell you about her. That's how it is with family. That strange inclination to hold our most dear and important loves/pains until we can lay it in front of the people who matter most.  A cat bringing in some kind of mangled bird in desperation- a term of endearment and trust.

There's so much love and so much emotion, still, just under the surface after these three years. It will take time for us to feel and figure out next steps. That is just part of repair. It feels good. New. Old. Unfamiliar. Familial. It's strange to think that almost every night for three years we slept under the same roof and, a few times, in the same bed.

It feels good to have people in my life who believe, love, and look out for me. Sometimes it can be hard to accept. It brings up sadness. I am glad that some of these people are completely balls out with how unflinchingly they will confront what is wrong, and how steadily they will stand in what is right.

I have to remind myself that deserve that.

So do you.

Oppressive crap isn't going to stop in the face of politeness.  I am okay with being hated.  I have been for a long time. I am both proud and relieved that I surround myself with people who are equally unmoved by coolness or by peer pressure. This interweaving of our love and protection and integrity and justified anger.

Such a beautiful and strong enmeshing we have created.

Such a beautiful and strong wicker we have become.


be well; be loved,

k.

(image: Florian Pessenteiner via nervedamage tumblr)

In Love and Ode to the Top Shelf Billers

Currently:

1) Excited about my resume re-vamp and where it is going.

2) Very excited and chomping at the bit to go on an excursion I have been planning for tomorrow. The weather is perfect for it.  Ferries, water, a packed picnic (I can't take credit for this one) and a map of all sorts of stuff to check out.

3) About to slip into the exact night I have been craving for a very, very long time.

(pause)

I had the best conversation with a long time friend and ex of mine today who is one of many genius hearts I am blessed to have in my life.  He somehow has these genius gems that he comes out with all of the time.

This time, it had to do with the concept of "Top Shelf Billers".

To break it down: We all know that top shelf alcohol is the most expensive kind. So, if you were to order a few drinks and have them automatically made with the top shelf shit, you know it's going to be super expensive.

Anyway, he was talking about the concept of *people* who are Top Shelf Billers.  Meaning people who, when they are upset, go straight for the top shelf. No middle shelves; no well alcohol.  So what happens with them is that, any time their feelings are hurt, you get billed to the maximum. Every single time. No matter if they were hurt that you showed up later than you said you would or if you straight up sold all of their shit while they were away from their apartment: It is all viewed through the same lens, and it is all going to be billed Top Shelf.

I found this to be both hilarious and entirely accurate.  With Top Shelf Billers, what you learn is that - without some kind of intervention- you can't keep going to their bar.  It's just too expensive.  Sure, you may love the shit out of the bar and  might want to go in there but, if you do, you have to do so knowing that you are going to walk out with a huge ass bill that you will probably never be able to pay.

That sounds about right.

I've dated a Top Shelf Biller. And, while I know she meant well and that there are plenty of painful/understandable/heartbreaking reasons for her top shelf billing, it's just not sustainable if left unchecked.

Anyway. The conversation was needed and hilarious.

My absolutely favorite combo:

Loving, laughable, and completely fucking on point.



Now that is something I will always toast to.



Be well; be loved,

K.

(image: via jerry's eyes tumblr Striated Inna B-G)
(song lyric that influenced this would be me saying "I realize I'm just too much for you" from Beyoncé's  Don't Hurt Yourself )