It's rainy and chilly. I'm at the Godfrey's beach house on the Cape. If I wasn't bored, due to the rain, and missing my own friends, then this would feel like an actual vacation. George, Nicholas' father, is dealing with one unhappy baby right now. He knows that he can pass him off to me and get back to his ball game, but he's sticking with it, which is pretty cool of him. I take my meal with Laura, George and their guests, so long as Nicholas allows. We eat filet mignon and lobster and drink nice wine. There is a sign over the back door that leads to the beach, it read, "Pucci, Gucci and Sunblock." I like to try to keep this type of life very foreign to me to ensure that I never want for these luxuries. I miss my backyard right now. I miss when dad makes softshell crab then grills some shrimp and veggies and we eat on the back deck, sipping wine. I feel that I'm always dabbling in worlds that are not my own.
Our African dance class on Thursday night was sensational. We went a little stoned, to try it out. I couldn't get just about all of the steps, but once you were moving and feeling the beat of the drums and the rhythm of the movement, it just felt so wonderfully energizing. We walked home afterwards over the Mass Ave bridge and stopped at Crossroads for beers and wings. I wish I could have more nights like that. It's just so simple- no bullshit.
For now the rain will not stop.
-LL-
Since my 90's entries are so depressing, sometimes I need to remind everyone that I am not a depressed 14-year-old dork anymore! I'm a grown-up, very happy dork.
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