So I just came back from Susie Bright’s birthday party. Sorta.
I got lost in the fucking dark of Silverlake and Echo Park and the rain. California streets are not lit well for rain because we don’t get that much of it and Los Angeles people can seriously not drive in the rain, so people kept cutting us off. I finally finally knew we were close, but we kept driving back and forth along Glendale Blvd looking for a mythical street called Earl. I finally called one of the two numbers for the hosts. They were people I don’t know because Susie doesn’t live in Los Angeles but was celebrating here.
The guy answers the phone and I tell him my name and location. I’m all chipper like I’m going to a party. The guy makes me repeat myself enough times that I assume I have the wrong number. “For the Susie thing,” I say. At which point he pissily (is that a word?) tells me that the Susie thing is over and was from 4pm to 7pm and they are in bed now. Is she five? Most people who write about sex and technology do not go to bed before midnight on a Saturday night when they are throwing a party. WTF? If someone is going to have a party at a totally bizarre time, it seems like it would make sense to answer all RSVP emails containing queries about the time. Maybe Susie gave him my email so he felt obliged to invite me, but he didn’t really want me to come. Maybe he didn’t like my story in Best American Erotica. Maybe I fucked his mom.
I was feeling a lot of social anxiety tonight too and I was proud of myself for getting out the door. And getting to go to a party for overcoming my fears.
My hair looks really fantastic tonight too. Tomorrow, maybe I will try to formulate my disappointment into a proper article. With a snapshot of my fabulous luxurious hair.