I’m “moving” more boxes in to the new apartment, but at the moment, I sit here and type this at Tryst as if it were 1993 or ‘94 again. Allow me to explain: their wifi (i.e. the only reason I stopped in) is out, so I’m writing something which I will post later, much like I used to do with my email on AOHell. Back then, I received just a few hours of internet access each month, so I would type a bunch of stuff which was put aside until I got online each day for five or ten minutes…then AOL would send everything to everyone in one massive dump. There was no web back then…so the only reason I got online was to check/dl all my email, send what was waiting and then maybe browse alt.culture.kerala or the like. I remember listening to that annoying and iconic modem whine, anticipation consuming me, all the while wondering which first-gen Malayalee had flamed me on Usenet (generally someone vicious with a handle like “pichathi”) and what clichés about my American birth they had employed to do so.
Anyway, I reminisce because I haven’t felt like this since then, meaning I haven’t written something which won’t be transmitted immediately in over a decade. Wait...twelve years ago, I had four or five hours of monthly access? My goodness, now I exceed that amount several times a day.
I’m at one of the best tables in the house; I nailed one of the two squares in the window, meaning that everyone who walks by notices my glowing white baby iBook, my obnoxiously yuppy accoutrements (scarf-enhanced blue bag, giant latte cup and my unfortunate wardrobe choices: blue ballet flats, miniskirt and “Christmas” top. I’m far too festive because I changed in to the same Gumby green Polo shirt I bought a baby nephew recently before I started hauling stuff downstairs a few hours ago. I did so b/c there is no need to wreck one of my all-time favorite, classic Bengal stripe dress shirts by schlepping all manner of box, suitcase, bag and laundry basket to the brand new Element which was procured from Zipcar for the move .
Fine, perfect, good enough…except now I’m cold and if you had seen me earlier today, you might remember what sweater I had tied around my shoulders, which I greedily reached in to my purse for again once I got here and shivered. Yes. The dark red one. That means I am wearing dark red and bright green. With blue shoes. This is preppy absurdity. The biggest color scheme of 1992 just vomited all over me. I don’t give a shit though, I’d freeze sans this bloody, ruby red wool.
Tryst is still one of my favorite places in DC. And this is now my neighborhood. The thought of that makes me cock my head and gaze at the full-moon adorned sky in surprise. I used to go out of my way to metro or drive here, hanging out to write before having to go somewhere far less brutally hip. Now, I live here.
Omg. I live here.
I may not do things in the most intuitive or logical fashion, but I do all that I do for a reason, I promise. I drove straight here without unpacking my boxy Honda mule because I knew that 1) coming here would make me happy, 2) that it would make me yearn for more Trysts with destiny and that finally, I’d have the gloriously perfect epiphany that, 3) I could partake in such bliss daily now that I live ten minutes away. Suddenly, not yet having net access in the apt doesn’t destroy me…not when there’s a place like this, where they apologize because their wireless is out and tell me that I don’t need to order anything, that I can just hang out…
Maybe I won’t be so lonely here in my first “big girl” apartment which I've been so hesitant to settle in thus far, maybe my first adult home, my first experience living without roommates OR family members will be bearable after all. Maybe I will look back and note that this was the beginning of something.