04 March 2005 - 7:31 pm

Pisces, Pomona and Parthogenesis

So, the party in Pomona.

After a few errands (going to the bank, filling up the tank, etc.) we were off. Carol mentioned something about wanting to be there by 10, and when I originally thought we would be leaving at 7, it seemed like a no-brainer, no problem. But after delays on buses, going back to work to pick up my car, and errands, it was far closer to 9 pm than I had hoped for, and of course there was some traffic, and we arrived shortly after 10. In fact, we were following a Miata that paused right after the freeway exit to look at directions, which then turned down the same street as we needed, and after a while, we just assumed they were going to the same place as ourselves and just followed them. Sure enough, we were right on his heels walking through the front door.

Where we were greeted by Jim, the host, whom neither of us had met. And we were introduced to B, whom Carol had been corresponding and speaking to, and had been happily and hopefully expectantly waiting to meet. I met Chuck and his girlfriend, and fortunately Chuck had one time written an article on his blog about a certain telephone booth out in the middle of nowhere, complete with a travelog and pictures, that Carol had shared with me, so I actually had a topic of conversation to gush forth about how much I had enjoyed reading it and was sad the booth had now been completely erased from the face of the earth. Chuck bemoaned that apparently that was his finest and most significant contribution to the blogosphere, the number of hits he attained from that one piece were immense, and generated much physical traffic to the actual site for others to document their pilgrimages, and of course, once people got there, in the middle of no place, then the only logical thing to do was to party.

But it’s all gone now, and Chuck feels that was his highest claim to fame in his contributions to blogs. It's all been downhill since.

It was an interesting mix of people. Carol, myself, Chuck, his wife, the host, and the Curmudgeon in Training, all have blogs that the other five read. Me, I was merely a passing occasional reference in Carol’s entries until this party, and now, having met me, I have been linked to both Jim and Chuck’s blogs. How thrilling. I have been met, found adequate and can quote Jim as being found charming. High praise indeed.

After a few more people left, a number of them disappearing to a jazz club to listen to blues, and promising to come back, B. brought out the Absinthe. He only had one bottle, and had been waiting for there to be less people present so all could have some. He served us all double shots, and the traditional method as seen in FROM HELL starring Johnny Depp as an absinthe swilling, opium addict. The whole pouring through a slotted spoon over a sugar cube and then lighting it on fire….Quite a production. And the absinthe is such a lovely shade of aquamarine to begin with, adding sweetness and flame to it just makes it so much more endearing. I had tried absinthe in a bar at the foot of the Charles Bridge on New Year’s Eve when in Prague, but it had not been served like this. This I actually could drink. I still didn’t manage to finish it, and instead later gave it to the Curmudgeon to finish, but I was pleasantly inebriated at that point. I had already mixed and drunk myself a margarita, not knowing Absinthe was on the list of the evening’s highlights.

With drink in hand, I wandered outside to sit beside the burning Mexican Chiminea where other people were gathered. It was cozy. Outside, the topic of discussion ranged from discovering that four of the six of us sitting there right at that moment all had birthdays within that week, and we were all proud Pisces. “Isn’t it great to be a Pisces?” we all congratulated one another, as if we had anything to do with it. The other signs represented asked if that weren’t the youngest astrological sign, and we all hastily rushed to correct the asker by responding, “Oh, no, by far we are the ancient ones, the wise ones, the more experienced ones…” A certain smugness amongst us Pisces? Never, for we spoke the truth, astrologically speaking….

So since some of those gathered did not have blogs, and did not read them, we had a discussion about those too. What was the difference between a blog or a journal, or a diary? And someone said that a journal seemed like it would be merely a recitation of facts, an account of one’s day, a travelogue, for example, while a diary might include those facts, but also commentary on one’s thoughts or feelings. While traditionally a blog would be a series of links to other things on the internet, with occasionally a comment, but perhaps not much more. What did I write? I replied I write a diary, thus why I keep it over at Diaryland, to make it clear exactly what sort of thing you might expect to read there. And what did I write about? My life, what I do in my attempts to keep busy since I am single, my sex life….to this Josh on my left perked up. We also spoke of how everyone wants to make a contribution to the world, and didn’t it seem like the sudden spate of blogs was merely the modern attempt to leave one’s mark on the world? For all of posterity, or until the Internet no longer functions, all of our daily musings and thoughts are there to be read by any and all. Which led to the topic of Parthogenesis. Josh suggested that once the human species females developed Parthogenesis, human males would simply become obsolete, so males needed to come up with some other contribution to maintaining the human race other than mere sperm.

It had gotten cold by this point, and except for myself and the one other female, no one else wore jackets. We all moved inside. I sat in the comfy chair, and Josh again sat beside me, at the end of the couch. While another conversation raged at the far end of the living room, Josh sidled up to me to ask “So….
Has anyone you didn’t know ever read your blog and then gotten ahold of you through email?”
“Yes.”
“And then you two actually met?”
“Yes.”
“And actually hooked up as a result?”
“Yes.”

His eyes gleamed. “So what was that web site again?” He went and got pen and paper for me to write it down.

By this time, there were fewer people, and everyone was either reclining or lying on the floor. Everyone was getting down. Falling asleep.

Eventually, there were only five of us, two being the host and hostess, and B. who was visiting from out of town. I had already mentioned I was on my way to Phoenix, and everyone kept asking me when my flight left, and I looked blankly and then explained I was driving. They felt sorry for me, for my long drive ahead of me. Hey, I thought, I was half an hour closer than I was from starting directly at home.

But somehow, the absinthe just never quite wore off. I was neither so tired I knew I should sleep, nor so tipsy I knew I shouldn’t drive, I was somewhere inbetween. And that spoke to me that I probably shouldn’t leave the house until I felt more awake or less tipsy.

So B. and I talked. And talked. Eventually his head was resting on my thigh, he stretched out on the couch that I had moved onto once Josh left for the night, and B. kept asking if I needed to sleep to let him know, and he would go lie down. All I really wanted was to stretch out. I knew having my back well rested would make driving so much more pleasant, so eventually, I went and lay down on the floor. I was more than willing to let B. sleep on the couch, I was warm and comfortable, but instead he took it as his cue to leave. It was 4:30 at that point.

I woke at 9:30 and knew that with 5 ½ hours of driving left to go, there was no way I would make it to Phoenix by noon like I had said I would. But at least I got some sleep. No one else stirred, and I wondered what was the proper etiquette to leave graciously without waking hosts and yet showing appreciation? I left a note on the fridge. As soon as I got to the car where I had left my cellphone for the night, there were two messages from Michelle asking me how far I had gotten, and two from Mr. C&H telling me at 1:30 he had finally made it home and to please call him when I stopped for the night, and another call at 7 wondering why I still hadn’t called. And right about the time I was merging onto the freeway, Michelle called again, just as I was about to call her. 3:30 was the new target arrival time. “Good,” she replied, “now I can get some sleep.”