I accosted the boy I brought home the night of little remembering, and looked at him with terror-filled eyes (Did we get married in Vegas?), and he kissed me on the forehead and before I even said anything said "We didn't do anything!"

"Thank the Loooord..." He looked a little hurt. I explained that I'll gleefully sleep with anyone, but that I prefer to remember things.

"But you kept saying I was a huevno bueno."

"Oh. That means 'good egg.'"

"Yeah, I figured it out."

So, I have so far avoided (in manner of Flanders) getting hitched to a barmaid. Or a Welsh drummer. This has little to do with anything but luck.

Tomorrow I go to York, the next day I hopefully go walking.

I had a really, really nice day yesterday - I laid flagstones for a friend (who I met online before I came out here). It was in this little village in Snowdonia, and everyone knows everyone. And everyone checks in on everyone's business. And there are old fueds, and lots of gossip, but it's a very friendly place, too. It's very cozy. (Cute as a button, too. Stone cottages and slate roofs and a chapel and a church and a wide stream and schoolchildren and horses and sheep...)

It reminded me of the board. It was such a fabulous sense of community - everyone checking in on everyone else, taking care of each other, people coming to group decisions about how they're going to behave. ("There was a lot of talk last year, and things have become more friendly.") And the same problems as the board - the struggle to get along.

Do you know how sometimes you can really like some qualities about someone, and not so much some of their other qualities? But still be willing to become their friend? And depending on how they've gratified my own needs (for human company, for sex (!), for niceness), the different elements get different play when you think about the person. At least in my experience.

"Selfishness is the last to go..."

I guess I'm just not entirely sure how I should feel about the men in my lives, who have occasionally represented potential mates (often in my head only, but - granted - sometimes not). Sometimes I sprint like the wind from men who think I'm gorgeous. Or tell me so, anyway. Should I expect to like everything about them? And shouldn't we be spending time together, and building experiences? Becoming friends.

I need James.

Also, I think that bohemia is highly overrated, and often an incredibly irresponsible way to live. Someone suggested to me that I spend the entire summer in Wales, living in squalor and working under the table. Sounds bohemian and all, but it would be pretty incredibly irresponsible.

2003-03-27, selfishness is the last to go

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