shot in the head - but it just grazed me.

I went to Landrys last night after work. We both had intentions of organizational grandeur... specifically moving things out of her studio so AD could move in there this weekend. Landry made snacky pasta sauce, we got sucked into watching someone ELSES sucking chest wounds (although that was the least of her problems post cougarbobcatmountainlion attack since her husband was fainting in the ER and everyone started taking care of Mr. Helpful while her face continued to fall off (and don't get EITHER of us started on the ugly conjoined twins....). Anyway... we moved SOME stuff.

What was my point... oh yeah. Landry and I are in a lazy, humid, dusty, hot, and angry at shitty TV and fainting people who DONT have sucking chest wounds mood... and all of a sudden noises came from the street that made all three of us jump (Breakfast was helping us by getting in the way of moving)... and jump not in a startled "ooo, what was that odd noise" but body crouching "Gormley - get away from the window" jumping. There was this funny odd moment soon after of Breakfast sitting next to Landry (instantly reassured by her hand/calm as I usually am) and I was standing there with them as car alarms started going off all over St. Johns... For the first second or two we were sure they were 'normal' noises... then I thought uhhh... gunshots?... then we started seeing the lights flashing - reflected and bounced back and forth across the windows on either side of the street until they found their way into her living room. Fucking fireworks... but I don't think either of us could possibly explain how fucking LOUD the echoes were. Blood-pounding loud.

Then I had this moment as Landry leaned out the window to try and see them and invited me closer where I realized I had been blindsided, and shot, by fireworks this year when I have been dreading July 4th. I was stunned and backed away from the window without her needing to tell me to this time. I saw a reflection of one in the glass and it was enough to strike me dumb. numb. fight or flight.

July 4th of last year found me on a beach in Point Pleasant where I have spent countless July 4ths curled up under a blanket in the cool damp air with my sister, or family, or friends watching fireworks over the ocean. And this year as it approaches I am filled with dread. Dread that something I once loved could be the last straw that pushes me to have that tasty nervous breakdown we've all been helping me avoid.

A year ago was the last time everything was fine.

FINE. Happy girl, perfect life, curled up with my sister and parents watching fireworks looking forward to traveling back to Boston to curl up with my husband... and not 5 seconds after I walked through the door in Boston a few days later everything unraveled. Really fucking quickly.

So fireworks have become my milestone... a milestone I am terrified of. And a milestone I am angry about. My favorite, comforting, most beautiful memories ruined for now until I reclaim it. Just not this year. This year I want to crawl into a hole. I had a funny dream about watching the fireworks here in NYC with Landry along the river. Packed with people, and I fucking LOST it. And then Landry was there, with AD and C which seemed an odd group all together... but I suppose it makes sense from the pieces everyone is fitting together... and the three of them were hugging each other over me. Keeping people and sound out... keeping me from being pulled apart by flashes of light over nasty, disgusting, and unswimmable water.

i am on a rampage today
a screaming, tugging, internal rampage
i am looking for kerosene
i want to crawl out of my skin
or have the biggest, brattiest tantrum i have ever had

...throw rocks at them.

ahhh, and it was only a matter of days before New Gormley realized it was a really shitty idea to dry out this week.

Actually, according to "Landry's Theory of Quantum Detox"I have only been dry one day since you could lick me and taste sangria when I woke up Monday morning. Charming.

There are dumb people in the world. There. I said it. You know you've been secretly thinking it. People who can't see past the decisions in front of them. People who start falling down a hill before realizing its a really fucking huge hill sometimes. I have, to be fair to all the dumb people, been guilty of such things.

I have been dumb myself. There. I said it.

However, I can count on one hand (since both are cocktail-glass-free for the forseeable future) the amount of times I have done impossible damage and kicked someone down the hill ahead of me. Hmmm, twice? I have a friendship breaking apart and don't know how much tape and glue I've got left. And? I fucking didn't label the boxes so who the fuck knows where it is anyway...

I take pride in the fact that I have a fistful of friends who always have my back. No questions, no doubt. We get wrapped up in each others lives. We get wrapped up in our own selfish lives too... but there on call any hour. Success, failure, love, hate...LOYALTY.... simple TRUST for fucks sake... ...all on the table, all the time. Do we hesitate sometimes before putting our cards on that table? Totally. But they get there, and we open ourselves to the support and criticism. We know when to push each other and when to back the fuck off.

My mother is a perfect example of this. The last year has been hard. Really fucking hard. With one word from me she can sense the slightest waver to know if I need to be supported and told that "everything will sort itself out", or "get the fuck up and fight."

and they anger easily...

I was fixing my profile and had to look it up.

"People born in the Year of the Ox are patient, speak little, and inspire confidence in others. They tend, however, to be eccentric, and bigoted, and they anger easily. They have fierce tempers and although they speak little, when they do they are quite eloquent. Ox people are mentally and physically alert. Generally easy-going, they can be remarkably stubborn, and they hate to fail or be opposed. They are most compatible with Snake, Rooster, and Rat people."

Landry, you're my fucking rooster.

a work in progress...

Landry and I have had some version of this chart circling around for years. I think the first one Landry drew on a napkin in five seconds flat when we were discussing the interconnectedness of all our friendships.... so and so dated so and so, married and divorced so and so, lived with and loved so and so... this one is all based on friendship, sex, drama... less about the overlap and all about the lines.

Landry, I tried to add in the last one without you, but need to be sitting at Lil Frankies with our scraps of paper to sort out the position/relation.

...so a work in progress:

the roots of hate.

Gormley and I have known each other for 14 years
she hasn't always been so spiteful/cranky/hateful or drunk.
as a matter of fact, she was a bastion of all that was good and German organized

She would make fun of my 'piles'
and my lack of visual organization
("It is more important to apppear organized than it is to actually be organized")

now i get graphic files from her that are crooked and have lines strewn about like pick-up sticks

she has lived in her new apartment for nearly 4 months and still does not have a proper garbage can in her kitchen.

so while she is less efficient at napkin ironing these days, she did in fact speak the following words to me not 4 days ago in response to yet another hangover:

"if i had only had JUST the two 40's....."

the rest of that statement is unimportant because she weighs 95 lbs and is all of 4'10".
the fact that that string of words in that particular order were uttered tells you what kind of year this has been for Ms. G.

We made a chart.
you may or may not be on it.

she has a lot of reason to hate.
i'm right behind her.

but if I had a piece of furniture that I didn't want anymore and she wanted it

i'd definitely give it to her.

...in which our hero Gormley battles her evil nemesis Gormley for control of the empire...

An epic battle has been quietly occuring on 4th street. 'Old Gormley' rallies the troops for a final showdown with 'New Gormley'. A few key differences in their strategy/personalities:

(and Landry feel free to edit as I have been a little hazy during some of New Gormley's escapades...)

Old Gormley:
1. Is unpacked within moments of moving into a new space. Perfectly chosen colors, textures, comfort.
2. Is an outstanding cook who loves nothing more than perfectly ironed napkins.
3. Always remembers to send birthday cards.
4. Is in bed by 10:59.
5. Loves order.
6. Labels things.
7. Straightens obsessively.
8. Plans ahead.

New Gormley:
1. Ran out of shampoo, didn't have the wherewithall to get to the store and didn't wash her hair for three days until Landry made her.
2. Has the most disorganized bag.... I find straw wrappers in it all the fucking time.
3. Has not washed the skirt she has on in about 2 weeks.
4. Prompted Landry to say "Are you reorganizing your bathroom cabinet?" and then replied "Bitch, that's how I get ready in the morning..."
5. Could be called angry.
6. Is ridiculously productive at work (but JUST at work).
7. Appreciates the grace that comes with chaos.
8. Can drink people double her size under the table (however often requires an escort home - thanks AD and Landry for last night).
9. Selectively controls only certain areas of her life, leaving the rest to fend for themselves.
10. Often finds herself awake at 3am chatting or recovering.
11. Has not had a couch to sit on since December.

There is a chance that some sort of truce will be reached. The conflicting Gormleys will split the empire... share an uneasy alliance. A balance will be reached and each will inform the others core. There is a better chance that only one will survive. Secretly? I'm rooting for the bitchy one.

reupholstering...

hmmm, slightly recovered. You'll see by this post time that it is too late to be awake cursing sangria, and too early to be writing - but along with trying to count how many red-wine soaked bits of fruit were involved in last night, this was rolling around as well...

The first post of this joint venture was intended to be about furniture. Well, more accurately about sharing furniture as a metaphor which I'm now realizing is so riddled with options for imagery and application to my current state of affairs as to become actually ridiculous. Effing comical. Nearly therapy-worthy.

Landry and I were lounging on Js couch Saturday (Hey, I need my keys to your apartment back since G probably didn't even use them what with his couch escapades of the evening. Lord.), between I don't remember what happened in the morning and vague plans that evening - Landry had just made margaritas which I was avoiding - and we were discussing a charming and clever friend of hers with possible overlap in my life down the road and my hesitation at the fact that it sounded like drama. Lots and lots of drama (given recent events I now hate drama). She was trying to explain otherwise. That it was a fine and obvious idea (possibly), that she is more self aware than most (quite true), and that in spite of a bit of time YEARS ago it made perfect sense (hmmmm)...

...and so Landry - on one of two couches with differing personalities at Js apartment in Brooklyn - levels her gaze, settles her glass, and delivers the following with snarky wisdom...

"if i had a piece of furniture that I didn't want anymore and you wanted it, i would definitely give it to you."

Slight roaring ensued, along with dreams of shared blogs (this), furniture (hmmm) and a desire to stay on the couch and not go out (we went out amid the rainy damp lesbians).

...and so now, at 4:04 am, I am realizing that the possibility of an actual piece of furniture with no presupposed restrictions on it or definite boundaries is scaring the hell out of me. I thought I wasn't bothered by the last year... or of course knew I was bothered, but didn't know I was BROKEN, you know? Because I've been spending the last year getting back to feeling in control of everything and now the possibility (which I am avoiding taking) of aforementioned furniture - shared or otherwise - is leaving me spinning, and I don't know how to fix that part. Reupholstering everything but the actual thing that got so fucked up anyway during the last year which is my trust in others and my own judgement. The own judgement thing is the killer....

So THERE is why I haven't bought a fucking couch. We were looking for reasons as to why the 'old Gormley' is being shoved out by the 'new Gormley' - the Gormley who DEFINITELY needs to dry out this week/month, and think about buying a garbage can and ironing napkins. The Gormley who MAYBE should not use her floor as a closet anymore. At least Landry has furniture to borrow if I need to. Her delivery of this story would be funnier. I'll try and be snarkier next time. Back to bed.

drunk again.....

i had to rescue Gormley from herself
a 4th carafe of sangria
and AD
I fed her seltzer and advil
and left her sleeping face down on her bed.
luckily i have keys and locked her door.

3 hours later she is up and iming me gorgeous jems like:

• sad to ne drunkie at 930 on a sunday

• i cant ypt
type

• hmmm veryt druynk

• im trying ti entice him nie he said hes staying homer until thiursday

• ]eff this other drama' he was aLL
im giving you spzce
for the adan thing
i wa slkle
eff thaT

• hmmm and my typing skills are almost back

• hmmm 'not so good with the typing yet
giove me a serc

• im very drunl

• what the eff you' ll fill in
the wrong syllables
consionanerts
etc
right

• im just abt sober five more nminutes