Last night, after almost 2 years of watching it and wanting it, Pep bought a painting of BB King that's almost too big to even fit in his apartment. It used to hang on the wall at Bar Food, which is a great whiskey bar across the street from my apartment. Now it will hang in our future home forever, and I'll think of last night when I look at it. We went to Bar Food on one of our first dates, before we were really ready to be happy with each other. We drank too much, I taught him a new way to tie his shoes, and he asked me to slow dance to whatever non-slow-dancy song was playing in a bar where there is no dancing, ever. He asked me on a second date an hour into the first, and I thought I am the luckiest person alive, I am the luckiest person alive until it was time for him to go, because like I said, we weren't ready to be happy together yet. I remember very few things from that whiskey haze, but I remember loving Pep very early on, knowing that he felt different than everyone else, and I remember BB King.
BB was painted by a guy who goes by Rev Carl, who doesn't have a website for me to link to because he didn't want to pay for web hosting anymore. Something about his total lack of fucks to give about promoting himself was really admirable. There are so few people like that, especially in Los Angeles. He helped us walk the painting across the street to my front door, and after he left I suddenly felt like it would be so easy to paint for the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel this way after encountering people who exist artistically in a way that I can relate to, but it usually fades away just as quickly as it appears.
I haven't felt like drawing or painting anything for a long time, and while I blame part of that on my own happiness, a lot of it is the effect that Instagram had on me. I stopped drawing what was inside my head, started comparing what I did to what everyone else did, and immediately lost the sense of self that I had been able to put into art. And then I promptly stopped wanting to draw. I'm struggling to get that desire back, but yesterday helped.
A man from Indiana sat near us at the bar last night, joined our conversation with Carl, and then wished Pep & I all the happiness in the world when we left. It was a perfect evening that reminded me that people can be really, really great.
I love November in LA. This year, it was unbearably hot and awful right through October 31st, and then as soon as November appeared, temperatures dropped 10 degrees. I spent Halloween watching Anthony Bourdain eat around the world on Netflix and washing my bedding in a new detergent that makes sleep feel like a heaven-scented luxury, and I don't regret that decision one bit. I am comfortable, but not the lazy kind of comfort that prevents us from taking risks. I am just really comfortable.