It seems as if every single one of these things starts off with my balcony. Well, it’s where I am when i write usually, and it’s where i drink my bourbon.

So this is what I’m going to do. I will quit writing about how I love my balcony in the beginning of every post created on it, and instead, call it BOB. Bourbon On the Balcony – unless something that actually involves the balcony is part of the story, such as tonight…

I sit on my beautiful balcony, an occasional breeze blows by. i made the mistake of being a good neighbor and saying “Hi, Nathan.” after a few minutes of him walking out on our shared space. Drunk Obnoxious Boy proceeds to come over and annoy for a good 15 minutes – or 30 minutes – or days, i’m not sure which, and then I shoo him away – a feat in itself, and took three attempts before he finally got the hint that his company is not – and I believe will never be, wanted. Goddamn fool.

So, I sit here, as close to the railing as I can get, but I am supposed to be at Camerons’ house, getting to know her, as she seems – feels – like someone I want to know. Why aren’t I there? Why am I on my balcony? Well, I pulled my bile out of where I keep it, locked it to a pole as I went to the store – and come back to find two other bikes on each side of it, with their chain going through my frame.

Fucking Idiots. A bit of anger, and I start walking towards uptown. A little bit past Canal and a warning from Cameron that I will go through an unsafe neighborhood, I reconsider. Walking there is fine – it’s a hike, but at least I will get there – but then, I think about walking home, perhaps a wee bit intoxicated, and the distance and “unsafe neighborhood” made me reconsider – much more of the distance than the unsafe. We’ll meet again upon my return from Los Angeles, and I’ll have many beautiful stories to tell her.

She’s one of the very few people i am actually drawn to – like Cole, Like Kevin, like Stardust – a couple others – Whitney – the people I have a certain feeling of kindred spirits, people I could honestly call a friend. I have very few, but the ones I have are sacred to me, and I i don’t give this level of friendship to many – Hell – there aren’t many people who can deal with me and the way i live my life. It takes an amazing amount of strengh if you’re silly enough to care that much… But still, i will do anything – anything, for the people I call my true friends.

But that has nothing to do with my bike being locked up by some idiots. In the writing of this, said idiots cam and got their bikes, unlocking mine. I yelled down from the balcony, berrating them for their lack of intelligence and not being necessarily friendly, but at the same time not being a *complete* asshole – after all, they did look like a nice couple, it was certainly an accident, and who knows – there may have been a reason behind it as far as The Universe is concerned. (Confounded Universe!)They were nice, apollogetic, I understood that it was a simple mistake. They seemed happy, and the last thing I want to do is take that away from anyone. In the end, as they were riding down Chartres under the abonve mentioned balcony, I couldn’t help but wish them a good night.

The wish was returned.
I can be an incredible asshole when necessary, but really – I seldom find it necesary – except with Drunk Obnoxious Neighbor Boy. Then, it is a delight, and done with a lovely flare. Little boy needs to learn about personal space.

At this time, the day after tomorrow, I will be approaching Los Angeles, and Stardust, Pixies’ photo shoot, Cirque du Soleil, dinner with my parents, Native american flutes in Topanga Canyon, living in a dollhouse for a brief time, a champagne sunday brunch that I am thrilled to be able to take Stardust to, and more incredible adventures.
When I return, I will contact Cameron and get to know her better – perhaps working together to create something magickal, giving something back to this city, helping it breathe and grow again. Working my ass off, hopefully being able to save this apartment and my balcony with the money I make at the festivals soming up – even on slow weekends like this pas one, I hve done well, but it has been beautifully painfull. This money goes to L.A. – everything else when I return goes to rent and catching up on it. i can do it without question – I hope it won’t be too late…


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