Monday, September 22, 2008

Jib and Jibber Jabber

Sometimes my life can feel like a movie--an absurdist indie flick, a bombastic drama, the last, crawling hour of Solaris. Last week it was all fish-in-the-city moments that don't usually belong to me. Climaxing with a night of blonde girls and distinguishing patrons, a boating captain in white shoes, crudites and bottles upon bottles.

First a private book party at Cipriani Downtown (Upstairs) where one of my friends, mentors and perennial girl-crushes flitted around in Chloe, champagne-soaked conversing to the crowd gathered to welcome her new novel home. She was the lone jewel in that first writing class, she's told me not to sell myself short and to keep reaching for that brass ring and is testament to taking ones own advice to the fullest: and here's the shameless plug to check her out.

And then, after meeting some wonderful people whose numbers were not exchanged because I am terrible at planning, I had to leave the party early, her goodie bag in my hot little hand, to meet again with a different, albeit no less shimmering blonde, who has read half my book and--gasp--likes it and has told me that when I am ready, so is she, to introduce me to a few of her favorite agents and invite them to take a look as well. She chartered a boat to sail along the West side shores, as white and red was poured and the whispered jokes turned into yells, the cityscape white lights in black puddles, the passengers all holding each other close and laughing too loudly, the captain inviting us all to the fantastic yacht in the middle of the river where "Julian" promises an unforgettable time past midnight and me bowing out, all jib and jibber jabbered out.

I had to go home and finally sleep, because there had been so much consecutive newness already and so much to think about. The stunning sushi at the newly-opened Blue Ribbon uptown, the ride home on that Japanese motorcycle, the sharing of manuscripts. The sharing of playlists. The fall-planning and next summer's Thai dreams await.

The sky gone gray and that cold honing in, it was the brightest flash of the end of summer. And the film reel has since flipped, I have a cough and a pile of work on my cluttered desk, office workers around me grumble, and sure it's Monday and we have no time and we have no more long days to warm us, but I've got my unexpected memories and the hopes to create a whole lot more to watch in the upcoming months...


chiara said...

Another short piece of wonderful writing...
Love your style!

C-47 said...

Climaxing with a night of blonde girls and distinguishing patrons, a boating captain in white shoes, crudites and bottles upon bottles. -

Its weird I dated a girl once, and that, too, was the only way she could get off.

Anonymous said...

Did I tell you what happened later that night with the captain on my roof? ;-)