I Don't Want to Wait For Our Lives to Be Over

I've spent the last three days rushing through wind storms of sweating brown snow, pushing needles under the skin of the buried past and unearthing the potential to claw my way to the other side of Neverland.

It was Thursday night when it happened. A prophecy was fufilled, a prophecy whispered to me in the state before sleep by three spirits who visited my dreams two weeks ago. They told me a story of a pair of prophets who bring the good word to the ears of the wicked. Sure enough, these prophets showed up as foreseen but it turns out that we are all the wicked and the prophets weren't looking to bring me word of eternal salvation. They just wanted to party.

I tackled Loo and Pan (or rather, tried, but was tackled myself) when they emerged from her new car in the darkness of Idaho Street. The baseball field was vacant and unlit at that hour and the street lamps on Polk Avenue would alternately dim and brighten as Pork Chop and I helped shoulder a weekend's worth of luggage into our apartment.

Two phone calls were made, resulting in two more guests. Lion showed up right around the same time Spaz did.

We all drank a little wine and the others smoked cigarettes on the balcony. Lion and I, both in an good-but-odd mood, stood in the incredibly hot kitchen, talking a mile a minute, feverish, sweating. We talked about the times when we used to be in love, the memories that came out of not only the years we spent every day together, but also out of the aftermath that followed. We talked about the people we love now, and the extent to which we still love each other. We were so far from sad or jealous or angry--we were excited, happy, manic. We enjoyed each other's company on a level that hadn't existed for two years.

Spaz left. Everyone eventually fell asleep except the two of us. We took a walk in the two a.m. mist (he promised to protect me from the cockroaches) and reveled in liking each other again and the new things it suggested for the upcoming San Diego months.

In the morning, I woke up in my bed feeling amazing as Pan and Loo crawled in with me. Six hours of sleep, facing a drive to Miramar, was not an optimistic concept, but I ignored it. Lion had gone home hours before and was due to come back over soon. Still in bed, Pork Chop brought me coffee in my enormous Jack Skellington mug and we sat in my room for a while.

I got up and put on a sarong. We made eggs and started watching The Princess Bride, halfway through which Lion came back and finished it with us. Pork Chop and Loo left to buy groceries, Pan left to meet up with a friend to get a tattoo, which left Lion and me to our devices. I got dressed and ready to embark on my journey, only to discover that my car doesn't have even enough gas to turn the engine over. I immediately put my sarong back on and simply sent my boss in Miramar an email.

Lion and I watched Real Genius and did a crossword puzzle. Loo and Pork Chop came home with an insane amount of groceries. The two of them made risotto with tons of broccoli and lemon crusted chicken. We sliced up a baguette and ate it with butter. We cracked open some wine.

We began to watch Human Traffic, an endeavor which fell apart soon after Pan came back sporting a large fleur de lis on his right calf. Pork Chop took Pan to pick up Brother and we prepared for another night like the last.

My former co-worker (still Pork Chop's current co-worker), Rider, showed up in bike gear as usual, having known that this weekend was dedicated to my last days of living in this apartment with Pork Chop. I had known he would be stopping by the next night, Saturday, but then, on Friday night, his presence was a pleasant surprise. He only stayed about an hour and after he left, the party went on.

Around one a.m., Loo put on Wonder Boys and everyone fell asleep over the course of it except me. When five rolled around and the movie ended, I finally went to bed.

Three and a half hours later, I woke up to the early morning and dressed myself to head out to a car wash fundraiser in El Cajon. I woke Lion up to drive me, as my car still wasn't starting. By nine thirty, I was at the car wash and Lion was on his way home to shower. He came back at two to pick me up and I came home with a splitting head ache due to sun, not having eaten at all, and being dehydrated. I also had a nice sunburn on my face and the backs of my knees and sore feet from walking around on blacktop without shoes. I devoured a half-sandwich, took two Excedrine, and collapsed face down on the living room floor.

I was just barely able to watch Braveheart with Loo, Pork Chop, Lion, and Pan and by the first battle scene, my headache was gone. We finished the movie, I took a shower, and as I was in the process of getting dressed, Pork Chop opened my door and told me not to come out for half an hour.

When they came to get me, the living room was decked out with Christmas lights, purple streamers hanging from everywhere, and food was ready. It was eight o'clock and we started to drink (with the exception of Loo, who had been drinking since the beginning of Braveheart while she made banana bread in our oven). I was drinking wine out of a plastic red goblet from Medieval Times. Spaz and Brother had come back over, and we had pastry bites and artichoke spinach dip and more and more and more wine.

We took themed pictures in the kitchen while a DVD of David Bowie videos played. Pan asked for a tube of lipstick and began to tattoo everyone. Lion got six-pack abs, a smiley face over one nipple, a heart over the other, and two connecting male symbols on his back. Loo had the word VAGINA written on her shoulder. Pork Chop simply had it smeared all over his face. I wrote TITZ across Pan's chest and VIVA LA AUBRÉ was written across the front of my legs. Spaz ended up with all of the above printed backward on his white T-Shirt due to many hugs.

Rider came back over about midnight. He sat with Lion and I before Lion fell asleep on the floor while Rider and I talked at length. For a hot second, a group of my friends who make up some faction or another of a fabulous band came to say hello. By the time Rider and the other children left, Pan and Loo were asleep on one couch; Brother, the first to pass out, was asleep on the other and Pork Chop was on my computer in the other room.

Lion and sat up for a while, and it was once again almost five before I fell asleep.

We woke up later today than the other two mornings. Pork Chop, Loo, Lion, Pan, and Me. The air had more of a resigned contentment quality to it as compared to the electric anticipation of the last few days. We were tired and happy and not quite ready to move on, back to reality and the outside world. Pork Chop went to work about one and the rest of us walked to the end of the street and got coffee. We loaded up the Hundai and sent Loo and Pan back to L.A.

An epic weekend to celebrate the end of one of the best eras that currently make up my life. I'll miss Pork Chop and this apartment more than I'm willing to admit, and packing is going to get emotional.

C'est la vie. And viva la Aubré!