jazzfish: artist painting a bird, looking at an egg for reference (Clairvoyance)
Erin's staying with me for the week, which is lovely. She got in on Friday afternoon, and we've spent the extended-weekend snuggling and cooking and talking and running errands. It's been well over a decade since I've had a partner come to stay with me for longer than an afternoon, excepting Emily for the couple of years we were in DC and not living together. (And this past Xmas, I guess, though that was its own kettle of awkwardfish.) It's worked out rather well.

We went and got most of the Cargo furniture on Saturday, and it fits into the space pretty well though not quite as easily as I'd hoped. Gonna take a bit more rearranging to get it the way I want. Also, I'd like to get some art hung up sooner than later, in the hope that that'll help it feel more ... more real, more mine, something. I'm really good at getting my space about 80% of the way there, and then just not bothering with that last 20%.

Trips to the old condo are now most definitely Difficult, emotionally. Emily's solidly settled in and she's made the space her own. It's good to see her doing well. It's also rough to surround myself with... with how effectively I've been removed from something that used to be shared. There are still a couple more things that I need to do there: sorting artwork, for one. Maybe if I know / admit in advance that it's gonna be rough it'll be easier. Maybe.



I said "extended weekend" and I meant it. I took yesterday off work to get my second tattoo.

I've gone into extended detail about my first. This one took much less dithering and deliberating. A couple of weeks ago I went in and spoke with Rachel Lige, an artist that Erin recommended, and tried to describe the idea I'd had in my head. She made approving noises and asked a few questions and used words like "negative space" that I hadn't had the vocabulary to put into my description and quickly sketched something that looked like it might conceivably approximate what I was thinking of. I put down a deposit and made a tentative appointment for, well, yesterday, and emailed her some reference material that afternoon (a few silhouettes, plus the Le Guin and the Richard Siken poems), and tried to think no more about it.

Until last week when she sent me a preliminary design, and it was just about perfect. As an added bonus, seeing it, rather than trying to visualise, gave me the ability to describe it. "On my left pec, a silhouette of a hawk in flight, dark purple and filled with stars, over a dark grey sketched-in landscape." I wrote back to her with a couple of minor suggestions and confirmed Tuesday.

The whole experience was markedly more pleasant than the previous one. Some of that's having Erin there for much of the time (she ducked out for an hour or so to run a few errands), some of it's feeling more comfortable with Rachel than with Gilda, some of it's just having been here before and knowing a bit better what to expect. It took, mm, somewhere between three and four hours. Much of it was painful but not so bad: bits directly over ribs or sternum pinched unpleasantly, and the area down towards my armpit was just plain more sensitive. Then the last half-hour to forty-five minutes, in a combination of 'going over parts that have already been poked raw two or three times' and 'body is just Done', were sheer unpleasant agony. So we got most of it done, and I'll be back in a month or so for touchup and to finish some of the outside bits.

It looks lovely, though right now it's more red than I'd like. One expects that that will improve as it heals. The landscape's more detailed than I'd expected, and maybe darker, but I'm happy with it. I'm particularly pleased with how the stars in the hawk came out.

I was distinctly lightheaded when I sat up: not just a standard low-blood-pressure thing, but a very specific floatiness and absence of conscious thought. It's neat. I'm glad Erin was there: she fed me half a litre of chocolate milk and guided me to the Ethiopian place on the Drive where we ate raw cow and spicy lentils, and then took me home and generally kept track of me. So that was lovely, too.

I've already got vague ideas for next/additional pieces. The first tattoo I ever considered, back when I was still in engineering, was an electrical ground symbol on my Achilles tendon, and I still (or maybe again?) think that's relevant. I've recently kicked around the idea of a tiny orange, though that might be a passing fancy. And I've a mental image of a larger, brighter, piece on my right shoulder and upper arm. No sense of what it is, just that it... ought to be there, somehow.

In the meantime, I can focus on healing up from this one.

endings

Jul. 2nd, 2017 08:02 pm
jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
PSA: [personal profile] uilos and I have split up.

We still love each other a lot, and it's gonna be pretty rough for both of us for awhile. That said, if you feel like you need to choose between Team Tucker and Team Emily, I suspect Team Emily will need the support.

Doubt I'll be replying to comments, but we'll see.
jazzfish: Two guys with signs: THE END IS NIGH. . . time for tea. (time for tea)
Friday evening I'd intended to meet Emily for dinner at the only source of gator in Vancouver and then catch a music performance. On the way to the restaurant we passed a theatre advertising that this was the last weekend they were showing Angels in America Part 1, and figured we'd go to that instead.

Only, I'd started feeling a little chilled after I left work, and noticed myself drinking a lot of water at dinner and generally feeling kind of ... not really lightheaded, not really spacey, not really achey, but ... feverish. So instead we went home, and Emily finished her sign for the Vancouver Science March ("Be part of the SOLUTION not part of the PRECIPITATE") and I took an hour and a half hot bath.



I woke up the next morning feeling pretty much okay, and saw Emily off into the damp while I waited for Erin. We'd been kicking around the idea of going down to the States this weekend with some other folks, but I think we'd settled on just having a calm couple of days at home.

On the way there I got to experience my first moving vehicle accident. Not very fast moving, but still. Erin had just pulled out to turn left when someone who'd looked like they were turning right didn't.

I've been in several other accidents, from the time when I managed to come to a stop but the person three cars behind me didn't to the time when a concrete pillar at a gas station scooted into the passenger-side of my rental car at five in the morning. There's something different-- more visceral-- about being fully in motion at the time, and also about not being the one driving. Couple days later I'm still occasionally flashing back to the moment of impact, because I happened to be looking in that direction. It's not horrific or frightening, it's more "i can't believe this is actually about to happen."

Erin's car was rendered undriveable: body crunched up, tyre shredded, likely a snapped axle, possibly some engine damage. Probably totaled, since those things will cost more than two grand to fix.

We retreated to the safety of my place, and eventually made our way to Erin's, and the day turned from "quiet relaxing" to "recovery" and then "buying a car." Erin's out of pocket all this week for a school thing, and had been planning on driving her car, with a bunch of her stuff, up north the middle of next week. Which meant that she needed a car, pronto.

So Saturday was spent looking for cars, and on Sunday I rented a car (I'd been planning to anyhow) and we drove up to Squamish to test-drive one, and she ended up buying it. But that still took up much of the day, and much of the rest involved her frantically packing for a week away on a school trip, and then heading out past Maple Ridge for that. Not precisely the restful weekend I'd been hoping for.



Enterprise put me in a Hyundai compact that reminded me a lot of Straylight, my last car. Straylight was a low-riding Saturn coupe that I bought after my previous car caught fire on I-81. It was no hi-performance sports car but it was still fun to drive, and I enjoyed the existence of the trick third door as well. For city-driving or traffic-driving I would have preferred a somewhat more maneuverable Smart; for highways or just point-to-point, Straylight was wonderful.

(When I moved north to the land of carlessness, I sold Straylight to my friend Stephen. I believe it had an unfortunate encounter with a tractor trailer in the Affle House parking lot a few years ago. Sic transit gloria transita.)

By the time I left DC I hated driving, partly because I had to drive to get anywhere but mostly because driving in DC means traffic. Looks like five years was about enough time for that to fade. I genuinely enjoyed driving up and down the Sea-to-Sky. Even the backroads of the camp I left Erin at were kinda fun, though also stressful, due to rain and hunger and uncertainty as to exactly where I was going.

I miss road trips. I miss the freedom of getting anywhere without concern for transit schedules and flaky buses. I miss Straylight. I never thought I'd say that.



At least there was yoga this morning. I feel much better for that.

There's something bubbling under the surface about yoga and about things that make me feel more like me, and how that's changed, but it's not ready yet.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
This year we're not really celebrating Canucksgiving. We had a quietish weekend at home, since [personal profile] uilos did *not* fly out to the southern tip of the Outer Banks in a hurricane. I am, however, drinking an Orange Julius in YVR and waiting to board a plane to SFO, and thence to DC for a little over twenty-four hours and then to Martha's Vineyard for the VP reunion.

It's a bit sad to miss out on an opportunity to gorge on good foods in good company, though. [personal profile] uilos is already talking about cooking a turkey for Yanksgiving next month. I am not objecting to this plan in the slightest.

The lack of a big celebratory feast makes the holiday feel smaller, more compact, more personal. I'm okay with that. The couple of things I'm most thankful for are pretty personal too.

There's [personal profile] uilos, obviously. I can say "Graydon has spoiled you for epic fantasy, hasn't he?" and she nods sorrowfully and then we spend the next five minutes talking about whether The March North ought to be labeled Book 0 Of The Commonweal. Such people are to be treasured, and you can't have this one because I found her first. (I mean, unless she decides she wants to.) Also, it is now and not seven years ago, and Now Is Not Then (something that perhaps she realised before I did), and while I wasn't looking we seem to have built ourselves a solid foundation for the next while.
"Only another fifty years,"
I say, "and then I promise
to let you go."
--Elise Matthessen, "Response ..."
And if Thanksgiving came in mid-September instead of mid-October, there it would have stayed, with probably some added grumbling about things that aren't as bad as I complain about them to be. Instead I get green-haired Erin, and what seems so far to be exactly the right relationship at exactly the right time. Erin, who patiently wormed her way past my defences, who thrives on touch as much as I do, who has become a Significant Presence in my life far faster than I would have ever expected. I am deeply curious to see the shape that this takes as it continues to develop; meanwhile, I'm thankful that someone who meshes so well with my quirks has dropped out of the north and into my life.

(I am not nearly prepared to quote poetry about Erin. I am barely ready to quote poetry to her.)

Happy Thanksgiving, all.
jazzfish: Pig from "Pearls Before Swine" standing next to a Ball O'Splendid Isolation (Ball O'Splendid Isolation)
E will need to retake the Canadian medtech certification exam in October.

Plans for a better future have been put on hold for one Friedman unit (for non-political-blog-junkies, that's six months).

The weekend has been rough. (Understatement.) Normal service will resume one of these days.
jazzfish: A cartoon guy with his hands in the air saying "Woot." (Woot.)
As previously mentioned, [personal profile] rbandrews and [livejournal.com profile] diadelphous came out from Texas for the weekend. On Friday they braved the flurrying snow and went into the District to wander through the Smithsonian, accompanied by [personal profile] uilos. I joined them all for dinner at Afterwords and we browsed the bookstore and got cupcakes from Hello Cupcake. (While waiting for them I had time to read It's A Book, which was very cute and also had a monkey.)

HC was out of the day's gluten-free cupcakes, which was a disappointment since half the point of going to Dupont was to pick some up so we'd have them the next day. Oh well. The cupcakes they had were delicious and totally worth the trip.

But why, you may ask, did we need gluten-free cupcakes? )

Sunday we got up and saw our Texan visitors off, and stopped by my parents' place for my father's birthday lunch. Then we came home and collapsed for several hours.



People keep asking me if I feel any different. The only answer I've been able to come up with is "Now I have less cake."

thx

Nov. 25th, 2010 06:25 pm
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
Meh. I'm thankful for friends, more than anything. For [livejournal.com profile] darkfyre_muse and [livejournal.com profile] elf and [livejournal.com profile] babushek and everyone else who's asked me "how are you doing?", or offered *hug*s, or listened when I needed to talk and had good and wise and comforting things to say. For an old acquaintance who I've seen maybe a half-dozen times in the last fifteen years, who looked me in the eye and said "Take care of yourself, okay?" and meant it, because she was concerned about me; for a new friend who has twice told me something I needed to hear at exactly the right time. For [personal profile] uilos, for whom words are inadequate.

I'm thankful for my job, both that I have one that doesn't suck and that it's enabling me to flee to Vancouver where (I hope) I belong. I'm thankful that I'm self-sufficient and debt-free and could drop two grand on a new laptop a month ago.

I'm thankful for writing, though it doesn't really seem that way right now. (But I am a writer, and I will finish the shit that I started.) I'm thankful for all the stories that have been a part of my life.

I'm thankful for the chance to Get My Shit Together, because the only way out is through.

I'm thankful for the cat who was sitting on my arm half an hour ago, and the cat who's curled up next to me right now, and all the other cats who have ever stopped by to say hello to me.

Mostly, though, I'm thankful for [personal profile] uilos.
jazzfish: d6s stacked in an Escheresque triangle (Head-hurty dice)
My calendar tells me that Friday was National Boss Day. Mine celebrated by getting sick and going home midway through the day. I don't remember where Friday evening went; we must have stayed home.

Satyrday I slept lateish, and made pancakes because I was wanting pancakes instead of an omelette. Eventually I got on the road to head out to D&D, a little later than I might have liked, and stopped at Safeway to pick up crack chips. Was running not nearly so late as I'd thought, so I figured I'd swing by Trader Joe's to pick up a couple things of Vintage Cola (which, incidentally, tastes like the Platonic ideal of Coke).

Cut for traffic bitchery. )Thankfully, after all that I got to hit a bunch of things with a hammer, so it was all okay. (In retrospect a Big Freaking Axe might have been a better choice than the Big Red Hammer. The difference between d10+2 ("d12 brutal 2") and 2d5+2 ("2d6 brutal 1") damage is mostly a matter of taste and whether one prefers a bell curve; the slight deficiency in average damage in the former is compensated for by its "high crit" quality, which means that if roll a 20 on my to-hit roll I get to add an extra die of damage. And most of the time I'm rolling two d20s to hit and picking the highest one, so my chance of a crit is effectively doubled.) (Here endeth the D&D neepery for the day.)

Satyrday evening [livejournal.com profile] daghain was in a play, and it would have been good to have seen that, but I was sufficiently beat that I just wanted to stay home. So I did.

Sunday started off with the sink flooding the kitchen during laundry again, which was about as much fun as it sounds. Eventually I got that cleaned up and finished and headed out for a ramble through Riverbend Park (on the Potomac, just north of Great Falls). Too warm, too many small children, and it turns out that what I was wanting was a ramble in company, but a decent walk anyway. Came home, had a fight with [livejournal.com profile] nixve, had dinner, tried to clear the sink with Drano, vacuumed, wrote email.

Was unfortunately still online at just after one in the morning, which led to an unexpected continuation of said fight, which led unrelatedly yet inexorably to getting sort of half-assedly dumped around two. There followed an hourish phone call during which, after some prompting, the dumping was performed with a whole ass, and then the ritual Changing of the Facebook Relationship Status, and then [personal profile] uilos being a Heroine of the Revolution. I remember hearing the clock chime four, and later hearing it chime 6:15, so I guess I slept for two hours in there. Emailed work to say "not today, sorry" and probably got another 2-3 hours of sleep. [personal profile] uilos also called in sick, so I had someone to fall apart on at random times throughout the day.

The apartment maintenance guys came by to fix the sink pretty quickly, which was nice. Later, I confirmed with [livejournal.com profile] nixve that it was neither a bad dream nor one of those things one says when exhausted but regrets the next morning, and talked with [livejournal.com profile] ancientsong, which helped an awful lot as well. Then home, and crashing.

Today I've listened to Inches and Miles and Trees Still Bend (which made me sniffly the first time I heard it, a little more than a year ago, and now just feels right and true). And now I'm at work, where I have an annoying blurry ache in my eyes and no keyboard tray.

Tonight is sushi with someone cool, and Wednesday is probably pumpkin acquisition, and Thursday is likely to be hanging out with [livejournal.com profile] elf, and Friday is Belly Horror, and Satyrday is Ren Faire and then ABG if we feel up to it, and Sunday is [livejournal.com profile] rislyn's followed by Tribal Cafe. I'm keeping busy, and sociable, and both of these are probably good things.
jazzfish: a whole bunch of the aliens from Toy Story (Aliens)
[livejournal.com profile] uilos: And that's why I make you cook lima beans. Because you are capable of putting them on to cook and leaving them there.
Me: Well, yes. That's what the directions say to do.
[livejournal.com profile] uilos: But how do you know they're cooking if you don't poke at them and stir them?
Me: Because the directions SAY they're cooking.
[livejournal.com profile] uilos: You don't know that! You have to DO THINGS to make them cook!
Me: No, the DIRECTIONS SAY... how did we end up with duelling OCDs[1]?
[livejournal.com profile] uilos: I don't know about you but I don't have OCD.
Me: ... I am totally telling LJ about this.



[1] "Neuroses" would have been a better (more accurate, less potentially hurtful) term to have used, here.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
My favorite highway interchange: "There's even a train station in there somewhere."

Brown Out: the true story of Van Halen's "no brown M&Ms" clause. Absolutely bloody brilliant.

Via [livejournal.com profile] rislyn, Depression's Evolutionary Roots. I need to read this again before I can have anything coherent to say on it, I think. It's. . . thought-provoking.

"'The primary difference between these two subspecies of Formicidae is that the one on the left has longer legs and therefore a greater height from the ground,' Tom Swift said tolerantly." --[livejournal.com profile] xiphias



I had a really good time last weekend, for [livejournal.com profile] uilos-definitions of "weekend." Wednesday night I took her out to dinner at Kazan, where by sheerest coincidence we were joined by a dozen other cool people. Then we went back to the apartment for cake and games and "please take some of these books away now."

Thursday and Friday were slow, though I did get a decent bit of writing done. Satyrday we went out to Reston for some gaming, and also to retrieve an 8x8 pan that we'd left somewhere last October. (I know it was October because we also got a jar of roasted pumpkin seeds we'd forgotten we left, which she pronounced "stale, but edible.") Played a dogsled-racing game twice, which is good: the first time I thought it was great, the second I could see ways in which it irritated me, so now I won't need to pick up my own copy. And other good stuff as well, of course.

(Unfortunately I think that the intense climate changes between rooms in the house in Reston caused me to come down with a summer cold. The space under my eyes is filled with sand and I've been a little drifty the past couple days.)

Sunday continued the weekend's tradition of being pretty darn cool. We slept very late and lazed around a lot, and eventually made it out to Adams Morgan to meet [livejournal.com profile] tamnonlinear at DC Tribal Cafe. I'm a little surprised by how much I enjoy watching the dancers. Something about the flow of movement, and the energy, and the beat of the music. It's entrancing, and sexy in a way that's more "oh, nice" than "WANT," and it pulls me out of myself in a way that not much else does.

Also stopped in the used bookstore next door, which has some of the oddest stuff. I found an archy and mehitabel collection, and a volume of Piet Hein's Grooks, which always make me happy.

Last night we buried Keishi out in the woods. I haven't anything else to say about that, really, but it feels wrong to let it pass without notice.

Tomorrow I get on a plane to go spend a wonderful week with [livejournal.com profile] nixve, and then the weekend after I get back I'll be camping at Assateague. The back half of September, however, is suspiciously empty. For now.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
As mentioned, Sunday was really really good, mostly because I spent it with [livejournal.com profile] uilos. We slept in, went out for breakfast at a place called the Good Egg (where I had the second-best crab eggs benedict I've ever had), came back, bummed around for awhile, applied a bit of sunscreen, and hit the beach.

The water was chill but not cold, and one barely noticed it after a few minutes. Some good splashing about and bobbing in waves ensued. (It turns out that in the ocean I can float on my back. Who knew?) We retrieved a couple of balloons that had drifted out from a party, and watched the pelicans lazily drifting up and down the beach.

And also the ghost crabs. The beach was alive with them. You could sit a little ways back from the high-tide line and watch the water, and after a minute your eye would be drawn to a bit of motion, and then you'd see little sand-colored discs with eye stalks, scuttling everywhere. All sizes, from smaller than your pinky nail to larger than a paperback. The big ones had a more yellowish tinge to their shells, making them slightly easier to see when they sat still. And they'd poke a little ways out of their hole, and wait a few seconds, and then scurry all the way out and around, dodging the beachwalkers, and into another hole. Or sometimes you'd see one duck in and then back out again and scatter a clawful of sand (in clumps, because of the rain). They're amazing to watch.

(At the edge of my vision I saw a dog bark, and then a beach twit start pounding on the sand with his shoe. [livejournal.com profile] uilos said he was attacking a crab. I hate people sometimes.)

After an hour or so we came back in, showered, and bummed around for a bit longer, and then decided to walk down to Island Books. The Device said it was about a two-mile walk, which seemed reasonable. So we loaded up the daypack with a water bottle and headed out. (Something fairly important is missing from our preparations. This will become relevant shortly.)

It was a good day for a walk: not too hot, breezy, bright. We gently mocked the oversized houses, attempted to stop in at the new wildlife learning center (CLOSED SUNDAYS DUE TO BUDGET RESTRICTIONS), and eventually found our way to the bookstore. I snagged a now-in-paperback copy of The Dragons of Babel, the sequel to Michael Swanwick's The Iron Dragon's Daughter. [livejournal.com profile] uilos refrained from buying anything, having splurged when we were there last month.

We then walked over to an ice cream place, where she got a lime slushee and I got two ginormous scoops of ice cream in a waffle cone. Seriously, this was like a meal and a half. It was so much ice cream that they stuck the whole thing in a bowl so it wouldn't fall over. Then we walked back along the beach, and laughed at the large brown birds (thrashers maybe?) that were pretending to be sandpipers and doing a poor job of it, and admired the speckled gravel left behind after the waves rolled back, and then admired it even more when it wriggled and dug back under the sand. I have never seen so many tiny bivalves in my life.

On our return I was informed several times that my face had taken on a distinctly rubeous hue. Applying aloe made me wince but was probably worth it in the interest of decreasing the severity of the burn. Even today, my scalp is still crunchy.

Moderately painful sunburn aside, that's about what I'd like vacations to be like. The kind where I'm actually trying to relax and not Travel and See People and such, anyway.

vancouver!

Mar. 29th, 2009 01:55 pm
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
I've been sort of resisting writing up my week and a half of travel, because there was just so much going on (both physically and mentally/emotionally) that putting it into words will miss a good three-quarters of it. I had an amazing time despite the near-constant rain (and snow, once), and am in deeply besotted with Vancouver.

The easy facts: [livejournal.com profile] uilos and I flew into Vancouver on Thursday night the 12th, and flew back again on Monday night the 16th. I went to work somewhat jet-lagged on Tuesday and Wednesday, and flew back to Vancouver on Wednesday (the 18th) to meet up with [livejournal.com profile] nixve. We hung out in the city for a day and then headed into the Cascades for a couple of days before I flew out again Sunday night, to return to work for a very jet-lagged week. It's everything in between that's difficult.

Vancouver, to and in )

Vancouver, from )

And really, that explains absolutely nothing. Vancouver felt freeing, in a way that I've not felt in years. The people are friendly and helpful, the bus system is pricey but it gets you where you need to go and runs pretty often, and the city's just. . . really nice. They stop for pedestrians and yield to buses. The SkyTrain works on an honor system with spot-checks. And Stanley Park and the mountains behind and all the water everywhere and non-neoclassical buildings and tea everywhere and crepes and new accents and fog and the intense brightness of the sun when it shines through.

Much of it is that I didn't feel tied down to a car. Living in the DC area has seriously broken me of much desire to drive places. I want to be able to walk to where I want to go, or take transit if it's a bit further. The sprawl, the distance between people, is killing me. As is the constant sense of rushrushrush. I expect these things are connected.

I miss it.

(Trip part 2, and photos, to come later.)

Update: photos now available.
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] uilos and I started dating close to eleven years ago. Even by the shortest count (from "officially started dating, this time") it's been over a year and a half. And we seem to fit pretty well together, so we figured we'd do something official-like.

Trouble is, neither of us like diamonds, and neither of us like the overtones of the whole 'buying a bride with an engagement ring' thing. So after a lot of discussion and saying "no that just looks dumb" (heart-shaped gems are simply ridiculous), we came up with designs for a semi-matched set of rings that we were happy with. And found a jeweler in Alexandria that was willing to work with us for a reasonable price.

We weren't really expecting it to take two and a half months, but Real Life appears to have intervened on the part of the jeweler. The results are definitely worth the wait, though.

(As to when we're getting married, eh. We'll probably be engaged for less time than we were dating. Probably.)
jazzfish: A small grey Totoro, turning around. (Totoro)
Ten years ago I didn't think I'd see today. I wasn't sure I'd see next month, really. I was something of a mess. I had close-geographically friends, but none that I felt comfortable talking to about what was going on. (Mostly because I was having trouble acknowledging it myself.)

Ten years ago was a week after Technicon and two weeks after a spring break I'd spent with [livejournal.com profile] scathach and her family. Ten years ago was my fourth semester in college.

Ten years ago I followed [livejournal.com profile] uilos back to her dorm room rather than go home and lie there on my own in the dark.

It's been a bumpy ride at times but I wouldn't trade it.

Happy ten years, babe.

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Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

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