Apr 30, 2002
Making Friends and Splashes and Headaches
I think that Barefoot is a nice place to go at happy hour. And it's true -- they do make an excellent dirty martini. I was pleased. And sort of beginning to lose faith in the dirty martini. I've had so many undrinkable attempts lately, I began to wonder if they've always been disgusting but I was somehow unaware. Not so. I'm relieved.
A pretty girl named Ivy got my attention and asked if I had been eating at Sabor last week, and I said that I had. She loves that restaurant and goes there often, and apparently she recognized me because of my hair. I was tickled and flattered and shook her hand and introduced myself and introduced her to Sarah, who was sitting next to me. The last time I was at Barefoot, I remember thinking I was quite content with how I looked. I didn't feel exactly the same way last night, but I wasn't as far from it as I had been earlier in the day.
We ended up at the Foundation Room, flashing our extra-special membership privileges around and being treated very well. I drank too much last night. That much is clear. I awoke this morning in the 5 A.M. hour and was still drunk. And not as happy about it as I had been when it all began. The bartenders befriended us and filled our drinks with cherries. Billy Bragg was playing downstairs, and we met some amusing British fellows who were drinking sea breezes. And I'm sure I made an ass of myself in some respect. Perhaps when I was asking the guy at the door if he had two dogs. That's a long story.
I had many many dreams last night. Running from the law. Being chased by a vicious bear. Not having correct plane reservations. All sorts of nonsense. With characters from my life who are more often in my dreams than in my living room. And I woke up at one point and realized that I was crying. And the candle had burned down very low and the covers were all askew. And I wanted a drink of water.
I'm feeling terribly sentimental today. How much of it is precipitated by dreams and discussions and discoveries, I can't say. But I am feeling removed from reality and pitched into semblances of it. And I am sorry for having shed so many of my tears in private.
posted by Mary Forrest at 11:20 AM | Back to Monoblog