Portfolio Grace

I arrived in Long Beach yesterday afternoon. It was one of the most painless trips I've had in recent memory... MUNI to BART to Oakland airport to Long Beach airport and my luggage was the fourth on the carousel and then it was a short cab ride to Marcio's house. He had, in our texting, expressed an unusual interest in the exact time of my arrival, so I wasn't as surprised as he might have expected when, as I mounted the stairs to his apartment, he threw opened the door and shouted "Surpresa!" But I was still thrilled. It was so cute.

The day went mostly without event. We hung out on his balcony and looked at our "babies," his now-massive collection of succulents. We napped. We had dinner at Taco Bell (a more romantic gesture than you might think), and we got groceries at Albertson's. We shopped online for a few things he needs, and watched half an episode of The Amazing Race because it was set in Rio. We cuddled and we slept.

This morning I began falling victim to my latest addiction and had to eventually drag myself out of the house. I had help: there's construction going on downstairs at the house where Marcio rents an apartment and the noise it generates goes between claw-your-face-off annoying and actually physically painful. So I walked to a coffee shop, specifically, Portfolio, at 4th and Junipero, because it isn't terribly gay and and therefore less distracting, the iced tea is yummy and the internet is fast and indefinitely free, with the idea that I would work here. "Work" apparently translates to responding to my emails, responding to comments on this blog, more of my addiction, and now writing this post. With this work ethic, you must be shocked no one has hired me in the ten months I've been officially underemployed. The least I could do, if I'm gonna fuck around, is work on my latest short story. But no, I grace you with my presence instead. And a bonus, trippy pic I took of myself in the bathroom here at the coffee shop. Because I can.