La fiesta del fuego

I apologize, dear readers (all three of you), for the long delay in my posting. I usually write from home, but now that Gavagirl and I share the internet connection back and forth between our computers, it's usually more trouble than it's worth to spend much time on the internet at home. I've decided to just start blowing off work more to post.

So, yes, this weekend I finally met Jefe, of the infamous blogs Hook Echoes and Seeing in the Dark. Our meeting was nothing like I imagined; I expected him to burst through the door of my apartment with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a sheet of acid in the other, and an entourage of long-haired freaky people. Instead he walked in with a Mexican wedding shirt and a sincere smile. Apparently he's toned it down a bit from the old stories we read on Hook Echoes. Gavagirl (who was grumpy), Jefe, Oubliette and I went to some crazy-ass party in the middle of fuck-nowhere South Austin, where I further proved to those three and everyone else at the party that I am Not Cool.

I'm always slightly uncomfortable at parties, to begin with, especially those where I don't know a lot of people. I just started drinking beer and chain smoking, hoping it would loosen me up, but it mostly made me sleepy (more on that later). When we first arrived, Jefe was running around like a caffeinated six-year-old with ADD trying to set up some subversive liberal propaganda for everyone to watch, but it never ended up working out. He did, however, become the star of the party later on when he FUCKING BREATHED FIRE. There's the Jefe I imagined! He kept drinking the mysterious contents of a plastic bottle and spewing it out onto his torch, and the flames would just barely miss the trees hanging overhead. Everyone was mesmerized. People standing next to me were saying, "Wow, that looks so scary," and I'd reply, "Yeah, he's one crazy motherfucker, I've known him a long time." The show lasted a good ten minutes or so, and at some point watching Jefe bravely risking his eyebrows in his black Guayabera, ponytail, and neon-lit top hat, I realized that I wanted to make mad, sweaty, passionate love to him against a wall somewhere.

It was also at this point that I realized I was really fucking soused.

I remember sitting down with Jefe and Oubliette to discuss the finer points of fire-breathing, just before I wandered away and fell asleep in an empty room. While I was asleep, everyone was apparently looking for me, thinking that I had disappeared with a drunken neighbor who charmed me with his monacle. Yes, he had a fucking monacle, I shit you not. And no, I was still not interested. I woke up in the room with what felt like 100 people staring at me and talking to me, delighted that I had woken up. I stumbled out of the room quickly, bursting outside to see Rachel with a relieved look on her face. I didn't mean to cause so much worry, but I was exhausted. After a while, I wandered back into a different empty room and fell asleep yet again. And yet again, I was awakened by 100 people, but this time they were playing guitars and singing "Johnny B. Good," which totally rocked. Rachel came in at this point and took me home, where we sent Jefe back to Oklahoma with hugs and well-wishes.

All in all, not the most exciting night for me in particular, but we had a good time, and Rachel got over her grumpiness. We both slept until after 1 or so. Nayce.