Friday, July 03, 2009

From the Skies

I’m somewhere over the prairies. My flight home from Vancouver left just over two hours ago and I have two to go. I didn’t sleep at all last night and there’s not one, not two, but three screaming babies sitting in my section of the plane. Infanticide never seemed so possible.

I’m much sadder than I thought I’d be to leave the west coast. I hate sounding like a hippie lesbian, here, but I honestly feel like a different person after spending eight days in Vancouver. I’m more myself. Maybe ‘myself’ is a huge, lazy BC pot-head, but that’s a life choice I can gladly accept. I’m moving to Vancouver, mark my word. One year. WeeOne and I shook on it and then lit a joint while watching the sunset to seal the deal. You can’t turn your back on pot vows.

My mom and I went to Granville Island for the Canada Day celebrations yesterday afternoon. It was hot and sunny and I was rocking my Beau’s Brewery tshirt. Ya, the same one I mysteriously woke up wearing after my last blackout drunk night in Universitytown. Happy Canada Day, I’m a fucking drunk and I will advertise it across my tits.

We went to an international festival, and the air was thick with curry and music. My mom spotted a palm reader and pleaded with me to get my fortune told. I don’t buy that horse shit one bit, but my mom was paying so why not placate her? I sat in the stool and let the old gypsy lady run her fingers over my hand.

“You are going to live a very long life. Very long. And no illness.”

Wrong, bitch. I’m going to die proudly of liver cirrhosis at age 50. Scatter my ashes over the 24 hour poutine diner.

“You’re not from here.”

Oh, did you notice my mother’s giant sun hat and fanny pack and assume we just got off a cruise ship? Good eye, gypsy.

“I can see that you’re very creative and emotional. You make a living creating things with your hands. Are you a writer?”

Can you feel my carpal tunnel?

“You’re going to be very, very successful with your writing. You will never have to worry about money. Don’t let anyone tell you to stop writing, no matter what. Things are going to start happening for you in 2010.”

That would be nice. Go on, gypsy.

“You’re a kind-hearted girl, and sensitive. You give a lot but don’t take much. You’ve been very disappointed by men. Very disappointed by love. A relationship is ending now, but he is not your soul-mate. He never was. You invested a lot in this relationship but it was never meant to be.”

You have piqued my interest, lady.

“I see marriage for you in three years. And three children – two boys and a girl.”

Oh fuck, god help the world. God help humanity.

“You are going to have one more relationship before you meet your husband. This relationship will be short but memorable. Your husband has blue eyes and you have so much in common. He really understands you. He really gets you like no one else has. You are going to be so happy. Your marriage will last until the end.”

Take that, mom.

“You are going to take a trip across the ocean soon. But not alone.”

Lisbion?

“Things are going to get better. 2010, it’s all going to fall into place.”

Then she patted my hand and I sauntered over to the next stall to buy some meat on a stick.

So, I guess this is how I’m going to tell you that FauxHawk and I broke up yesterday. Minutes before I went to Granville Island. My life has always been comically complicated, but now it seems the gypsies are in on it, too.

I should correct myself. FauxHawk wants to delay the breakup until I get back to CapitalCity. It will still be over the phone, but I guess it seems less harsh if I’m only two hours away by car.

So, right now – in the skies – I’m literally in limbo. When I land I’ll be single.

I’ve already done the whole devastated post-breakup depression thing with FauxHawk. I won’t do it again. When this plane lands I am going to move on with my life once and for all. 2010 isn’t all that far away, and if that gypsy is right then I have some work ahead of me. Maybe I’ll write a book. Watch for me, bitches.

I cried for a while after what we will henceforth refer to as “the dumpage.” (Heh. Dump.) But then I had a great day. My mom and I hit the sauce on a patio overlooking the ocean. Then WeeOne met up with us at my mom’s apartment and we got sloppy drunk on her balcony. I had my feet up on the table, my sunglasses on, and a gin in my hand. My mom took a walk to get more tonic and WeeOne and I smoked a joint and watched the sunset. When my mom returned we were dancing to Journey and celebrating life. We walked over to the cambie bridge to watch the fireworks. I got a little sad when the show started, but it’s hard to stay upset when you’re with the people you love, standing on a bridge in the best city in the world, and there’s gin in your water bottle. Maybe bringing a recently dumped woman to the top of a bridge in the middle of the night isn’t the wisest idea, in hindsight.

I climbed a motherfucking mountain on Tuesday. Like, an actual mountain. I made it to the top, and the first thing I did was text FauxHawk to tell him about it. I am the type of person who literally shouts my love from the mountaintops.

The plane is starting its descent.

CapitalCity is looking pretty bleak.

ThePeach UPDATE: FauxHawk and ThePeach are officially over for good. I'm single. And sad.

8 comments:

quackattack said...

"I’ve already done the whole devastated post-breakup depression thing with FauxHawk. I won’t do it again. When this plane lands I am going to move on with my life once and for all."

Amen.

I'm going to save my real consolation for our private conversations.

But, I will say one thing: I'M PROUD OF YOU ... for EVERYTHING!
xo

Anonymous said...

Faux-hawks (the haircut) are the mullets of the 2000's, anyways.

quackattack said...

PS - Where exactly might I find this fortune-teller? I could use a little insight ;)

Anonymous said...

We all still love you.

And, fyi, I have blue eyes, and we have much in common :)

Claire said...

Just think of the awesome blogportunities that will be created by a single Peach.

Other-side-of-the-world hug.

Anonymous said...

Come to the cottage next weekend! I need to feed you lots of cheese and gin, it makes everything better - always...call/email me. QueenB

Anonymous said...

Addy and I send our love

XOXOXOXO

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