Christmas with Michelle
Michelle called and woke me at 10:30, because we'd made plans to have a traditional New York Jew christmas. That involves loads of movies, chinese food, more movies, and some more movies. Everything else in town is closed, and the television plays mostly movies about Christmas. It can be quite a depressing time for those of us who don't believe in Santa, much less that Jesus was the Messiah.
So I got up. Yesterdays much anticipated hangover wrapped thickly around my skull. Nothing like taking a shower while someone beats you upside the head with a sledgehammer. Nothing, of course, except my glug hangover.
So I showered, and dressed, and wore the Reflecto pants that Michelle had helped me choose the other day, and she showed up, and it was time for Dim Sum.
Hop in a cab, down to Jing Fong, in Chinatown, a gigantic, enormous, maximum seating capacity 4000 banquet hall, full of good food, friendly people, and eventually, not us. Because public advocate Mark Green was haing a party for himself, or someone was throwing him a party or some fucking thing, but after weeks of preparation, we were halted in our tracks by a smiling man on a microphone, explaining "private party upstairs. Very long wait. Come back another day."
Well, shit.
So we left, disappointed but not utterly stopped, and we to Shanghai Palace, or some other nonsensical name like that, for dumplings. The ones you read about, that were fashionable for three weeks, until people started chewing into them, splattering their business suits with the broth, and decided maybe they'd just stick with sandwiches. But we were there to part-ay, or at least to have Chinese food for breakfast. The dumplings, while good, have the consistency of scrotum. Sort of disturbing to eat them.
Conersation at the next table, an older woman (late sixties?) and her husband (no spring chicken) were talking to their granddaughter.
"So, when I went out to visit Allan in France, he served us Sweetbreads. Do you know what Sweetbreads are?" asked the grandmother, hoping, I assume, to confuse the child.
"Yes, sweetbreads are brains" said the street-tested New York sixteen year old.
"No, brains is brains" replied the grandmother, "these were something else. I just don't know what part of the animal it was." Sometimes, grownups are very strange indeed.
Michelle and I ate our meal, cabbed back to my place, and got into my bed (which ironically had been bought by me, not long after she and I broke up, with the thought that perhaps she and I would one day be in it together) and popped a DVD into my G3. We watched The Last Emperor, a four hour epic retelling the story of the life and death of China's final emperor. "A cast of thousands" movie, as Michelle put it. It's a four hour epic, worth seeing once. Tragic film, epic proportions, leave yourself an afternoon to watch it. The visuals are breathtaking.
After the movie, it was six, and the people Michelle had planned for us to meet up with had cancelled. Katz's for dinner, because Pastrami isn't quite as heavy as the Steak au Poivre I had prepared. Or something. I tend to do what Michelle asks. That's how our relationship was, that's how things still are. Eight months later, and seeing her is still like poking my finger into an open and tender wound. I still miss her now, after all that's happened, and after all this time. I don't want this to get sloppy, so I'll just say that I still miss her. ANYWAY... back to the story.
At Katz's, we shared a Pastrami on Rye, mustard on the side, a plate of fries, pickles, and a cream soda. It was sort of like old times, only not, because in the interim, we've both moved on with our lives. But the pastrami was good, and the mustard was just enough to give it a kick, but not enough to burn the sides of your mouth. Deeee-lish. It's good to live around the corner from some of the best food in the world, yes indeed.
Then, back to my place to powder our respective noses, and \a mad dash for the 12th street theater. Toy Story 2. Movie two for New York Jew Christmas. Toy Story 2 was totally kick ass, incidentally. There was a musical number, which kind of freaked me out (ummm, hi, I'm here for a good cartoon, not a musical) but overall, a good movie. Totally silly, and a lot of fun.
Drinks at Liquids, where we sat at the bar and had Absolute Mandarin and Tonics. I like liquids, sort of, but the crowd was lame. Pleasant bartenders, nice atmosphere, lame crowd. I had one too many of drinks, as I found out when we went back to my place and tried to watch the Fifth Element.
Michelle and I didn't say much over the course of the day. Some small talk, but nothing material. What is there left to say, really? We dated for a year and a half. We don't have mutual friends, and we don't have much in common these days. But we still want to hang out together. It's not the easiest thing in the world, wanting desparately to kiss the person you're sitting with and knowing that that would just not be a good idea.
Happens to me a lot. Not just with Michelle, but with others, too. I still haven't quite gotten this "when do you lean in and kiss the person you want to kiss" thing down. Trying to figure that out. Tips and advice would be appreciated.
I hope you got everything you wanted for Christmas.
Tommorow: Sleep off my hangover.
In other news
My slashdot fortune today was "the more things change, the more they'll never be the same again." Thanks, slashdot, I'm well aware of that by now.
From the time I woke up until the time I went to sleep, it was Michelle. No other news, and all ya'll were busy wit' christmas.
I really like Roland Kirk. Kickin' Jazz.
Oh, and The Antisnitz is bigger than Santa.
What did Santa Bring You?
Posted by Swerdloff at December 25, 1999 04:06 PM
