magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

I got in late last night and had no intention of getting up this morning, despite the vague rustlings of my roommates that made it through from the other side of my earplugs. It's Dan's birthday, so he got a free pass this morning, with no shouting from me to 'Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to sleep.' Not that I ever shout those sorts of things anyway. Or hardly ever.

Eventually they quieted down. Left.

My phone rings. 'Hello?'

'Hi. It's Ellen. Did I wake you up?'

'No. I woke up of my own volition about three minutes ago. I'm not sure how exactly I managed to sleep until one in the afternoon, although I'd bet that it has something to do with the fact that I ended up smoking pot at that party last night. And it's been quite a while since I've done that.'

'That would probably do it. I was calling to ask if you had any interest in going to see Pedro Almodóvar's new film this afternoon?'

'Yeah. That sounds good. I need to take a shower and try to knock some sense into myself first.'

---

The movie was okay, but nothing spectacular. From a conceptual point of view, I enjoyed the way that the narrative unfolded on different levels (story within film within film), but it just wasn't all that engaging. Ellen, as a fan, seemed disappointed. 'I guess he's maturing as a filmmaker,' she said, 'but I don't think I'm maturing with him.'

Afterward we had a few glasses of wine at a place called Le Singe Vert. 'It's got two of the three words that are going to be in my next tattoo,' I said. 'A different animal.'

Thai food. And then we sat around and read the Sunday Times for a few hours.

---

I never actually saw Dan on his birthday. But I've gotten the impression that he's of the sort who doesn't really like birthdays at all. Plus, twenty-one just doesn't really mean much to a straight-edge kid. Not that I felt any need to drink on my twenty-first birthday either.