love from vescent

Part of Hollywood

It's a "normal" night out in Hollywood with the Cacophony Society. Me and my friends are dressed in Banana Costumes - in celebration of V-Day. The Cacophony Society is a random group of free spirits in search of and creation of unusual temporary experiences. 

We start at Hooters (a place I have only attended in some costume), then make our way down Hollywood Blvd. I tried to convince Batman to become Bat Banana and come along with us, but neither of them had the balls. Marilyn, however did sing along with us to Peanut Butter Jelly Time. 

Zombie Banana, Marilyn, Sparkle Banana and Cholo Banana. 

So we're walking down the Boulevard, stopping at my favorite Hollywood drinking holes. Boardners. We meander down Cahuenga to the Burgundy Room. I love this bar for it's Mask of the Red Death lighting. I step into the bar, and a woman with wings turns to me, stands up and gives me a big hug. She says to her friends, "These are the Santacon people." I try to brush this off, but Cupid looks me straight in the eye and says, "I know who you are Heather!" BUSTED!

So I walk into the darkest bar in Hollywood, wearing a banana suit and am immediately recognized by Cupid? Yes! 

This isn't the first time I have been "recognized." But I did not expect to be recognized in a Sparkle Banana costume! When I think about this, it amuses me to no end. I believe I've finally become part of the fabric of Hollywood. I hope my thread weaves sparkles wide and deep. 

Nights like this is why I love Los Angeles, and she shows her love back to me.

My Home

It's been a day of domestic bliss. My house is clean, fresh sheets on my bed, cozily made. The lights on on my pinball machine. A vanilla candle burning. Dog snoozing on the couch. My friend typing away in a chair. Me at my dining room table with a glass of Pinot Noir.

My home has always been important to me and I've always worked hard to create a comfortable traditional, yet edgy space. Music, cushy couches and chairs, comfortable bedrooms, a welcoming office space and of course, a great kitchen. This place has been a long time coming. I enjoy every moment I spend here.

Walking Mr Dog through the old neighborhood, I strayed from our usual paths and revisited a street we used to walk on daily. The street overlooking my old place. Despite it being barely 2 blocks from my current house, I don't know that I've walked on it in more than 2 years. I stood across the street looking at the old place. The place I lived with S for 7 years. The place I called a "shithole." The place I left the Future from, to live in the present. 

Walking through the moist night, I remembered the "shithole" and said a prayer of gratitude, of thanks, for my beautiful house I live in. The only thing I miss from the old place is the Bougainvillea and Jasmine I trained on the fence for 6 years. It was lush and fragrant, vibrant psychedelic colors when I departed. I remembered the 2 year argument about the washer and dryer. And how thankful I am to have my own set in my kitchen, which I spent all day today using. Such thanks and gratitude and love for my gorgeous space.

The pleasure I get from a comfortable house is unparalleled. I'm a simple woman sometimes.

Loving the Flaw

I'm sitting at my dining room table. It's superbowl Sunday. Outside, an emergency plumber is digging 4 feet down to the top of my septic tank. It's my birthday weekend. I've been breathing, focusing on solving the problem for the past 4 hours. I could get angry, but really, there is no point to that. My anger won't change the situation. So I breathe. I make phone calls. I learn about my septic tank.

At the table are two women who have become closer to me than my family. They both witnessed my less than positive expression this morning to my 10+ guests. I hit my limit. But they've both seen me at worse points. I met A. just after my mom died. S. I've known for years, but this past year we've really spent a lot of time together. Both know just how fucked up I am. They've seen me at my worst. And yet, they are sitting here at the table with me. Part of me inside feels unworthy of their love. As awesome of a person I am, I have my flaws - I am not remotely close to perfect. And somewhere inside me, there's this belief, that if I am not perfect, no one will love me.

This is far from the truth.

A decade ago, I had an acupuncturist who loved me. He told me it was my flaws that caused him to love me. I found this really hard to believe.

But it's the truth. It's in spite of the flaws that we love someone. We see they are human. We see their vulnerable core. And we love them anyway.

Sitting there at my dining room table, with my two friends, I was overtaken by a feeling of gratitude, having them in my life. To have their friendship, their love and support - despite the imperfect person I am. 

I remember those I love. Friends. Past partners. Mr Dog. I don't love them any less because they are not perfect. Quite the opposite - I love them in spite of their flaws.