I’m living at home now and sometimes I say things like “Man I wish we had some chocolate” and then a different kind of chocolate bar will appear on my night stand every day for a week. But also if I forget to lock my bedroom door, I run the risk of being walked in on naked once or twice a day. I’ve remastered that locker-room-change I had down so well in middle school. That thing where you change inside of your t-shirt, inside of your pants. Because god forbid my mom see me naked, I guess. Sometimes I wonder if she walks in on me purposely, like to say, “Hey, just remember who’s boss here. Just remember who’s paying the rent.” Or maybe she wants to make sure I haven’t tattooed anything religious on my back sometime in my last 8 years of being out of her sight.
My dad’s upset I’m moving home because he won’t have a “New York Buddy” anymore.
“Who will I hang out with when I’m in New York? I’m gonna miss you there.”
“What? Dad, you live in LA. I live here too, now. We’ll hang out all the time. Probably a lot more often.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. Who will I go to dinner with?”
“Me. Here.”
I guess he liked picturing me living in New York because he grew up there. And he hates LA. And he loves going on those “New York is the Only Place!” rants about bodegas and walking and culture. I guess there’s more culture in New York, but if you don’t go to a museum ever in 8 years, does it still make a sound? Ok ok, maybe 1-3 museums. But I still don’t get them. And mostly what I do is sit in bars. And dad, I won’t sit in as many bars here, because I have to drive here. I think I’ll be healthier, dad. I think maybe I’ll be a new me! Maybe I’ll hike, dad! In the canyons!
“Yeah but I liked picturing you there.” I give up.
So far in LA I’ve made sure to act like I grew up here, which I did, so it’s not hard. I say things loudly like, “I BET THE FREEWAY IS A MESS RIGHT NOW” and “I’M REALLY BUMMED I CAN’T ATTEND THAT MUSIC FESTIVAL.” It’s mostly just second nature. The girls I was afraid of in middle school and high school all seem to run the entertainment industry now, and are still just as intimidating. Our dynamic is the same as when we were 12. I’m in their world again, except this time I don’t care that they have boyfriends, because now I’ve had a lot of those. But I’m still just as afraid to put on a bathing suit at a pool party, and I still yell “Moo-oo-mmmm!” from upstairs and I still leave my dishes in the sink and so not a lot has changed.
the house beast, nana. just one reason the mary martin version of peter pan really fucked me up as a kid. not to mention the obvious sexual tension between the grown woman playing a little boy and a teenage girl playing a teenage girl.
