An atheist and a priest go to dinner...

My new favorite thing lately has been roasting and candying nuts.  They say to roast them until the smell of roasting nuts fills your kitchen.  Well, my kitchen isn't that big but I can only smell them if I'm near the oven.  Maybe my sinuses are screwy.  Maybe it's because I only roast one pound at time and they're done in about 12 minutes.  But god damn it smells heavenly right around my oven

This morning I'm sitting on my bed with my coffee in hand and bundled up.  It's warmer in here than it was yesterday but still not warm enough for my comfort.  Having the curtains opened lets in a lot of cold air thanks to cheap windows but I need the sunlight too.  I often dream of life on a tropical island and today, bag full of candied walnuts in hand, is no different. 

Its so quiet around here these days.  The building is empty except for me.  Yesterday I could hear my landlord singing loudly as he cleaned and fixed up the vacant units in the building.  Yes Tomas, I am happy they are all gone too.  Let's hope the newbies are kinder and more respectful. 

I've been here a long time..... three years now.  In this 4 unit building I've seen 2 units move out peacefully and 4 get evicted.  My hopes for the rehabilitation of the building are not too high but I'd like to be able to  have a friend visit again.  I've had a small handful of guests over the years but none for over a year and a half. 

August 29th ish....20...11 perhaps.  Yes, I think that's correct, or as close to correct as you're going to get.   I remember what shoes I was wearing... my cute cork wedge pink leather sandals I got on super duper sale at the outlets in Sanatoga.  I also remember having to stop in the 7-11 at 2nd and Market that day to pick up a box of band-aids to protect my chafing feet from the brand new leather.  We walked down 2nd St. trying to figure out where to stop first.  It was early afternoon I suppose and there weren't many people out and about yet.  It was also a day or two after Hurricane Irene hit the east coast.... perhaps some places were closed due to flooding and power issues. 

It turns out I remember some details better than others. 

Eulogy was closed.  I sat down on their stoop and band-aided up my feet and then we went in to Triumph Brewery.  I certainly remember very few significant details.  I suppose it was the fact that I had been drinking for.... oh, I dunno, at least 5 days solid at that point.  Though I do remember having some wonderful conversations with my company. 

So, I remember my shoes, a band-aid situation, Triumph Brewery and delicious beers, great conversation and dinner.  It was the most spectacular dinner!  Cuba Libre.  I don't remember what I ate or drank... probably sangria knowing me.  Dessert was some kind of dulce de leche or something that I had never had before but he was super excited about.  Delish!  I was pretty tanked at this point but obviously holding it together enough considering I remember what was, hopefully at least, the most important part of that night's conversation.

It is beautiful inside that place.  Being late summer, the giant windows that make up the entire facade of the restaurant were all open.  The ceiling was two stories up and we were surrounded by massive tropical plants, trees, palms... completely engulfed in the atmosphere.  Those cute and somewhat tacky ceiling fans with bamboo blades shaped like paddles.... peaceful, relaxing and totally made me forget I was in Philly.   I'm sure the sangria helped it all too.

The company I kept that weekend was very taken with me.... had been since we first met in NYC years before.  I don't remember our exact meeting but know we met through a mutual friend.  It was most likely at the Slaughtered Lamb in the West Village.  It was most likely over Guinness and a few car bombs and ridiculous conversation and with one or more of the boys getting bent over the table and whipped by the waitress. 

I do certainly remember one of our times out and about in the city, standing on the subway platform each waiting for different trains to head home.... his pulled up quickly when we got to the bottom of the stairs and he grabbed me, stole a kiss and started towards the train.  He never let go of my hand though and once our arms were completely outstretched he pulled me towards him and stole another before hopping on the train and the doors closing. 

It always seems to be trains.  They're always there.  They always close their doors at just the right time.  Once happily inside them there is no passage of time, only passage of space.  Life is just the way it should be on trains.  I understand that my love affairs are as much with trains as they are with men.

But trains are cold.  And lonely.  Merely ways for people to go back to real life, homes and families in the suburbs or back to the life of the cities where there is no responsibility other than getting to a bed safe as the sun begins to brighten the sky.  I miss those pre-sunrises I spent drunk and underground though I definitely don't miss having to be creative to find a bathroom at 4 am when the bladder that's full of booze decides it has to be emptied immediately! 

And there we sat six years later in Cuba Libre.... drunk and happy, sharing dessert and looking at a string of tomorrows with millions of possible outcomes.  It was all so perfect for a girl like me because the only thing I'm certain of is that I want to be surrounded by beautiful, wonderful people forever.