Okay. In two days I fly to L.A. for a New Year's Eve party at a friend's place, and then go to her wedding the next day.
This is how I imagine the wedding will go: The Bride will be beautiful, the Groom will be gallant, blah blah blah laughs and tears everyone's heart will be warmed etc.
At the reception: I imagine I will meet Joe Fiennes. I have no idea why he would be there, in L.A., or at my friend's wedding, but it's another country and I think anything is possible. We will find ourselves standing together, maybe in the buffet line. I'll say, "Hi, uh, I just wanted to tell you I thought you were really great in that movie, uh, god, what's the name...?" "Shakespeare in Love," he will say, humbly and with a slightly tired sigh. "No, uh, Killing Me Softly, that's the one." He will be taken aback for just a moment, and then laugh, realizing that I am not an everyday idiot, but quite a Clever Girl and you don't meet nearly enough of those. We will shyly introduce ourselves and because neither of us knows anyone else really at the event, we will pal around for the rest of the night. I will dazzle him with my witty and surprising observations on Killing Me Softly that will also highlight my own neuroses in an endearingly quirky way. We will get along like a house on fire and we will spend the next day exploring Venice Beach, which I imagine is very interesting, even though I really know nothing about it - except that there's a Crazy Dancing Guy and his Overweight Bikini Wife who will try to charge you a dollar for taking their picture. We will give Crazy Dancing Guy at least 5 dollars and laugh at ourselves for our gullibility as we trip gaily down the beach.
After that, blah blah blah, he goes back to England, misses me terribly, falls in love with my writing and with me, surprises me by showing up unexpectedly in Calgary at the Soaps and lets me show him off to all my friends and I dunno, I suppose we live happily ever after, producing shows together in New York and London and splitting our time between a lovely condo-townhouse-brownstone thing in Soho/London/Notting Hill and an apartment in New York. I will write a show for him called "Fucking Clown," or "Fuck you, Clown!" because it's funny, not because I really harbour any ill will/feelings of any kind towards the real clown any more. It will be a hit. We will vacation in Paris and St. Petersburg. Sigh.
If L.A. deviates even a little from my expectations I will be deeply disappointed.
And now that I have that out of my system, I can go without any expectations. Mazel Tov! I will cry at the wedding, though. Partly because it will be So Beautiful, but privately I suspect I will be sobbing because I believe I am essentially unlove-able and that my own Aloneness will be in stark contrast to the bond of the Happy Couple, and all the other Happy Couples around me. After all, if that weren't true, if I weren't truly unlove-able, then why hasn't anyone ever loved me THAT much before? Enough to want to share their life with me? Seems to me lots of people get married. But no one has ever proposed to me. I know - "awwww, there there, sympathetic platitude." It seems like a stupid sticking point, but it's true. Either I'm unlove-able or I deliberately get involved with men who can't possibly love me. Which is probably closer to the truth. After all - it seems I have some good qualities. Surely I'm not a Monster. Surely I'm not completely Unlove-able. Surely it must be my fault for making so many bad choices... It really isn't THEM, it's ME. Not that that makes me feel any better. NOW who's detached from reality, self-pitying and hopelessly needy, hey? At least I come by it honestly.
Ah well, tomorrow is a New Day, full of New Choices, and I will try to act in my own best interest for a change.
Perhaps the wedding will inspire me to feel good about being single - a Virgin Goddess, Artemis the Huntress, beautiful but independant, untamed and Free!
Beat. Beat. Beat.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA!
Okay seriously folks. No expectations for good or ill. Can you tell I'm nervous about traveling? I am. All this is a cover for my deep fear of leaving Canadian soil. But no expectations. Maybe it's enough to know that there must be someone in the world, wherever they are, and whether we meet or not, and whether they are Joe Fiennes or not, who is capable of loving me as much as I love them. In the meantime, I will breathe, and I will cross the border, and I will, for three glorious days, live with The Angels. Los Angeles. And let all the rest go.
Lechiam.
N.
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4 comments:
Hi!
This is a personage from your story.Well I wasn't mentioned personally but was represented by the place (St.Petersburg,I hope it's Russia) and another person was from Paris.I just wanted to say your story confirmed.Where is Joe Fiennes?
Good Gosh, St. Petersburg - I wish I knew where Joe Fiennes was! Are you IN St. Petersburg? Or FROM there? Am I talking to the Spirit of Russia? Hmmm...curiouser and curiouser. And alas, although I've always wanted to visit Paris, the only personal relationship I have with the place is the name of my cat (although in troth he was named for a minor character in Romeo & Juliet. Long story.)
Thanks for the mystery.
Well,I was already mensioned personally,later.The girl was actually not from Paris,but anyway close.You know,I really like this whole stuff,it's like living in a fairy tale or something,you never know when you are a character or just reading.And it's thick.Only I am dubious about describing me as "damp".Is it a metafor?
Hello Petersberg! I should say first off that I've been to your website and really enjoyed your art up there. Very cool. As for being "damp" - it's not so much a metaphor as the fact that we had all come in from the rain, I think. I remember thinking you looked a bit drowned, but then so did I. I'm glad you're enjoying the stories. And now you know - never trust a writer. You'll always wind up somewhere in somebody's story :-) On the other hand, maybe that's a good thought. Maybe there's a moral for living - always live like you may wind up in someone else's story. Don't do anything you wouldn't stand behind if you saw it in print... On the other hand, feh! What do I know? Hope you're doing well, Petersberg. And staying dry.
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