Sunday, January 4, 2009

The Ought-Nine Blowout (Jefe Style)

New Years Eve, right. So I thought that I was supposed to do something monumental. It's a problem that I have. Thirtieth birthday I couldn't decide where I wanted to be. It almost ended a long-term relationship. "Do you want to have a party in Chico or Portland! Just tell me! Fuck!"
"Um...uh..."
The 40th was an equally lame day, except no one was around for most of the day, so I paced through my house for about four hours before going to the corner to get the same iced Americano that I get every day (weather permitting).
You get the picture. I end up acting like a retarded chicken with my head cut off. (Can anybody spot the humor in that sentence which is also the thing at the top of my blog? Never mind.) And so it would be on the New Year's Eve of 2009. I apologize if I didn't come to your party or show or whatever gala event you planned and were thoughtful enough to invite me to. It just didn't sound interesting.
Pat and Jennifer should be the least offended. I actually started riding to their house at about 10:45. The back roads of the Sunnyside District were more than pleasant until it was time to cross Hawthorne at about 50th. I swerved around a chubby girl who was lumbering toward a frat boy, her eyes wide with adoration but the two orbs stared at each other like the skull that they resided in had been crowned with a two-by-four. He had on a tropical party attire of some kind, possibly a lei. I moved quickly and discreetly as the girl and boy staggered toward each other. The woman was totally smitten with this Joey. However, her body language and pale, sweaty skin suggested that, if all went well, she would be vomiting all over the back seat of the young man's car very soon.
I deftly continued, in my own ninja-like way, through the mob of drunken douche bags as they wallowed and howled on the street corners and out into the street, slobbering loud and sentimental gibberish under the Sewickly's sign, like a pack of confused elephant seals on Valium.
I made it back into neighborhoods and down to the serenity of SE Lincoln and headed east, confident that I would not be bothered until Division. The cool rain felt refreshing as I rode past a smattering of people out on their front porches or walking up the street. But the odd car that drove by had a bit of a swerve to it, or an aggressiveness that comes from thinking that no one can see you. I realized then that all of the clowns that I'd evaded on Hawthorne were, at this very moment, in their cars and hitting the back roads, in search of the first house party of the night. Then I thought, how much do I really care about any of these fuckers?
Then I went home.
Happy New Year.

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