Jun 19 2003
One year
Tomorrow, my dear friend Catherine is taking a giant leap and flying many thousands of miles to meet a slightly dishevelled friend of her’s, whom she has never met before. We both have a rather distaste for American lifestyles, so I’m sure this shall prove as an interesting experience for her, and I look forward to the wealth of photographic evidence she shall return with.
The last few weeks have been hard on us both. I’ve been violently moody, swinging from chirpy cheerful to malevolent, and at times, so has he. Seven months ago I braved seeing Cat Power alone, and this time (tomorrow) I shall be attending with Him and Rupa at my side. I’m a little perturbed at the thought of perhaps having to hide my tears (last time I didn’t — I was in the presence of strange tattoo’d lesbians who were also sobbing) from them both, but I’m sure this shall resolve itself accordingly. I recall there being a large amount of pretty gay boys so I may be forced to oogle if the supporting act was anything like the last (Scout Niblet - die.)
I’m always reflective of what was happening a year ago when I strike certain points of the month. A year ago I was sipping red wine in secret gardens of Soho with Miss P. A year ago I was seeing Ani Difranco for the first time. I was mixing red wine and coca cola, gobbling popcorn. I was visiting gay clubs for the first time, photographing strangers and sending secret parcels. I was discovering my body, other people’s bodies. I was stumbling upon beauty. A year ago I was less than I am now.
And every time I think of where I was, one year ago, I can’t help but think of how much I’ve grown.