Harry's birthday was last night. Lana's the night before. Needless to say I've spent much of the weekend with a drink in my hand, dancing, eating, talking shit. Still, somehow I've managed to be productive during the day. I'm going to try to remember that and to not obsess about sleep [or lack thereof] as I embark on two months of hospital shiftwork. Days to nights, nights to days. And now that I have my black-out drapes up I am ready. While I was at it, I bought the appropriate equipment to hang the drapes, and so that pretty much wraps up the last of my student-like ways [I am of course referring to the safety pins I used—albeit discreetly behind a valance—to hang them until today]. I feel like a new woman.
I was a fan of being in demand last night; the only straight girl in a group of Harry's gay male friends, dancing to [what I believe to be] undanceable rave music. The bongo accompaniment [sorry, conga’s, Harry kept correcting me], was the dance floor’s only saving grace.
"Just focus on the drums", the good-looking Columbian told me, his hands on my hips.
Earlier, on the way to Chinatown, I told Harry maybe next year all of his friends could pool our resources and buy a family a goat in Africa in his honor, through one of those creative charity organizations. I guess I assumed veganism wouldn't factor into the equation for starving people.
"They don't need a goat."
"Yes they do, they're starving."
"How is eating one goat going to help?"
"It's for the milk, not the meat."
"Well, they should grow soy for milk."
"Yeah, I'm sure growing crops and producing soy milk isn't generally a problem in sub-saharan Africa."
"Well, they're going to need to grow something. How do you suggest they feed the goat?"
"I don't know...tin cans and shoes?"
"Old tires?" I asked feigning innocence. Always a smart ass.
He looked at me, mouth open.
"What? I remember watching a program when I was little that showed billy goats eating cans and shoes."
"Yeah, if they're hungry and that's all they can find. That doesn't mean they can survive on that."
"Fine", I cut him off. "No goat for you."