A REPOST FROM 2008!
I awaken at 8:30 am to find myself curled up on an unfamiliar chair and the sound of an earth-shattering snoring a few feet away. I sit up and there is Ken, passed out on the couch across the room on his side with his shirt pulled up with a Beauty Queen Sash with Asian writing on it and his chubby, pasty stomach spilling over his pants as he's shaking the apartment with his snoring.
Empty beer cans are scattered throughout the apartment. I then realize that I hear the sound of water running, and his Japanese exchange student roommate peeks out from the kitchen, looks at me, and waves his yellow-rubber-cleaning-gloved hand. "Hello", I say. I gather up my purse and belongings, and go out the door not bothering to wake up my friend.
I stumble into my room to find my roommate fast asleep. As soon as my head hits the pillow I am unconscious until 12:30 pm.
*****
Tall Older Art Major calls me around 1 to ask if I want to go to the beach.
I figure he's trying to extend himself as a friend (since we're not fucking anymore).
I decide against it until he calls again at 3 to pick me up.
I put on my polka-dotted red and black swimsuit and jean shorts to cover the bottoms. I decide that I'm getting fat and I need to lose weight, these shorts used to be loose on me and now I can barely fit the button closed.
The weather at the beach is beautiful. The air is so warm and calm that you can't tell where your skin ends and the air begins.
I lay on my back on the towel and listen to a group of high school girls squawking. Not that I am consciously listening, they are just so loud that one cannot help but hear them without an ounce of effort.
The loudest girl of all, with dark skin (looked either Mexican or Filipino) was screeching about an "ugly dog." I turned to see a couple walking in their direction with a chihuahua on a leash. "That is such an ugly dog. What an ugly dog. Ew."
Then comes the gossip. I swear, you can't make this stuff up.
"Everyone knows she's a fucking whore. She got herpes. She need it stamped across her forehead. Like the Jewish Star, ya know?"
"I always wanted a fish. I wann'ed a fuckin fish! Then as soon as she moves out, SHE gets a fish. An' I don' get a fish cuz I'M the BAD DAUGHTER, right??"
I try to let the ocean drown out the sounds of her squawking and instead am distracted by a shirtless older man on a balcony of a multi-million dollar house on the cliff above me, screaming and gesticulating wildly to an unseen person, with a glass of wine in one hand and a baseball cap on his head.
"I will fuckin' crucify that motherfuckin' cocksucker who stole my...." (His voice drowned out)
Sounds of random yelling and phrases peppered with the words "Fuck", "Cocksucker", and "Motherfucker" follow for the next hour. I giggle now and then every time I hear one of his belligerent tirades, as entertaining as they are.
I feel myself taking in the Vitamin D from the sun, I turn to look at Older Art Major now and then and see him basking with his eyes closed.
I think back to a week ago, when I lay on his bed and we read e.e. cummings to each other and discuss the dadaist art movement while becoming increasingly inebriated on Bordeaux and melt into each other....His legs are so awkwardly long and he has a thin chest. I imagine what it must have looked like from a third person's perspective while I was on top of him while we used to have sex.
No matter, though.
My mind drifts to a certain British man I know, who is waiting for me in London. I wonder what he would be like if we made love. I wonder if he would talk dirty to me or make soft British moaning sounds....Right then, my phone rings. It's the British man. He calls me from London and we have a brief chat.
I enjoy the rest of my sunbathing and the wonderful beach, hearing the waves crash against the shore. Serotonin replenished!
We walk back up to the wooden staircase to the top of the hill. I say goodbye to the beach and decide that I need to do this more often.
As we drive through Laguna again, we notice sirens and police lights. We figure there's been a collision until we see an overturned car with a woman laying down on the ground with police and people around her.
She seems to be okay. But how the heck did she get her car to turn over sideways on the side of the road? There's no way she could have gone fast enough to flip it on the side.
Chipotle follows. A nice treat considering that I have no Chipotle access down here, I am more than happy to spend some more time to get my Chipotle fix.
Inside a group of young hispanic teenagers are standing in front of us. As I'm talking to Older Art Major, a loud *thunk* makes us both turn. One of the teenage boys has fallen on the ground. He's breathing, but the girls with him are trying to call an ambulance.
Luckily the boy was able to stand up and walk with the help of his friends/family, apparently he fainted as a result of an inner-ear imbalance, or at least thats what it looked like the girl said.
5 minutes later, a firetruck and ambulance arrive to find the fainted boy and his friends calmly at a table enjoying their burritos.
We've seen two people on the ground within 2 hours.
It was a good day. He drives me home and I notice my skin gained a little colour while at the beach.
I sit updating my journal here online, and receive a text message from Older Art Major:
"Lust awakens and I want to be inside you...sorry I know this is a weird message but...im odd"
Very odd indeed. A very strange, interesting, satisfying day in a 21-year-old's new life in Southern California.
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