(Lo)(nel)(in)(ess)

I had what you might consider a "busy weekend." First of all, let me start out by saying that I didn't get home until at least 8.30 every night last week; Monday was a foray into the Village for thrift stores (all of which close by 6 pm Mon-Fri)- a complete bust.
Feeling: disappointed and annoyed. Fizz sprung for the bottle of wine that night.

Tuesday Fizz and I ventured to our "regular" spot- Zanza, a bar featuring Yogi, a friend of ours who spins, excellent Veggie burgers and $2 draughts. We were joined by Sav, a (shameless) promoter of independent arts; a good guy, cool, but reeks of "I'm everybody's friend."
Feeling: disappointed and amiss.

Wednesday was dinner with Whammy at the Zen Palate in Union Square. Vegetarian cuisine reasonably priced, fun company.
Feeling: still amiss.

Thursday was an off-off-Broadway play written by Leslie "Copy Bitch" Bramm. The play, Oswald's Backyard, performed at Beckett Theatre, was very well-written and acted; I enjoyed it immensely, though I'm slightly confused about the point of it. I went out with Whammy, Wamber, The Boy and Fizz, and Fizz's (and Leslie's) co-worker, Quanta Wade (the woman who 'recommended' me for employment at my temp agency). Afterwards, we drove down to the Village so The Boy could get food and the rest of us drinks. We picked The Slaughtered Lamb, a reference to "An American Werewolf in Paris." All fried food, all English beers. The topic of conversation was Bush-bashing, that is, sources uncited, preaching to the choir, Air-America Liberal bashing. I kept my mouth shut until I couldn't take it anymore; "I'm tired of your one-sided bullshit conversations!" I snapped at my friends. There is only so much one can take.
Feeling: frustrated and tired.

Friday night was the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. Fizz lent me The Boy for the night and we got all gussied up in our finest rags; he in his suit and I in my "symphony" dress (formerly my bridesmaid dress). Boy, did we feel silly and spiffy. The orchestra was beautiful, nearly moving me to tears in the first movement. The sound quality in Isaac Stern Hall was, of course, AMAZING, even in the rafters we could hear just as well as if we'd been 3 feet from the stage. The only distraction was a poorly sound-proofed exit door that, when nearby cars honked or sirens cried out, you could hear through very clearly. Boo-hiss, but whatever; I chalked it up to NYC saying "hi" and enjoyed myself anyway.
Feeling: calm and at ease, though distracted by thoughts of my job.

Saturday, even though I was asleep by 1 am, I slept to 4 pm, alone in the house and misery.

Saturday night was an evening at Kenny's Castaways on Bleeker to watch Raining Jane, an all-girl band from LA with whom Fizz acquainted herself when they played Salt Lake City last year. They're funky and fun, but in serious need of new music; I now know every single one of their 18 songs.
Feeling: even among friends I felt alone (a recurring theme of late). Riding home Saturday night in my lonely misery, I decided that an evening home alone the next night would be the best thing for me.

Sunday morning I woke up refreshed and jolly, partly due to the end of Daylight Saving's Time and partly due to Fizz's equally joyful demeanor (likely induced by morning 'relations'). We went to breakfast at an Irish restaurant up on Grand Ave; the walk 4 blocks away was divine with cool, blue skies, bright sun, and shorts-friendly temperatures. A Traditional Irish Breakfast was my choice, with 4 kinds of meat, a few eggs, grilled tomato and some home fries. Need I say more? In my joyful mood, Fizz suggested I go to the Halloween Parade with them later that night; I forgot all about my social misery and decided to go with them.

That evening started well: handing out candy to children (I feel like SUCH a grown-up!) and getting ready with Whammy in the house is always amusing. She's freaked out by kids, so I made her dole out candy to them (I'm so cruel); panicked as they ran up the porch steps, she asked, "What do I say to them?!" but handled the goblins perfectly.

When we got down to the parade, 6th Avenue was PACKED! We were standing 7 people deep to watch the parade, only able to see the stilt walkers and puppets going by. I was bored and Whammy was irritated with the crowd, so we jetted off to hook up with Yogi at Nevada Smith's (yes, named after the Steve McQueen flick), leaving The Boy and Fizz to meet up with us later.

Later that night, as we left Nevada's, I was angry and annoyed- at what, I couldn't say, but that sense of loneliness that has been plaguing me the past few weeks is the closest to how I was feeling. In the subway, waiting for train, I sat on the ground and quietly cried, the only thought in my head was, I wanna go home. Even now, sitting in my office typing this up, my eyes are welling up with tears. An irrational thought, of course, as a) I don't even know where home is anymore and b) home is not the solution to my problem. I spent the rest of the trip back to Queens avoiding eye contact with my friends and determinedly chewing my finger nails.

All I can attach to the way I feel is loneliness, a feeling I have no idea how to get a grip on or get over, other than to just avoid everyone altogether. So far, I've done a piss-poor job of that. I keep thinking being around people will lift my spirits, but spending time with them is never as fulfilling as I hope it to be. I keep going out, hoping that "this night" will be The One to pull me from my funk.

This Tuesday we're all supposed to go to Zanza to watch the Election results roll in (the idea is: why go through that alone?) and I'm thinking: another night of LOTS OF PEOPLE and POLITICS- two subjects which have been the only common denominators in all of my sad evenings lately. I'm thinking I want to sit this one out, even though it will be a momentous, contentious occasion (a moment I am not usually wont to pass-up).

When it comes right down to it, though, fond memories of time spent with good friends tend to overshadow the unhappiness that sometimes trails behind.