Friday August 19, 2005

Friday August 19, 2005

Drinkin' Cheap Wine Current mood: overtired There is something wonderful about sitting down by yourself and drinking some cheap white wine. I know in these days of political correctness we're not supposed to admit things like that, but I say, as I do to many things, bollocks! I love to sit around when I have no other cares in the world and drink myself some cheap wine. I recently went to California, speaking of cheap white wine, which, by the way, I thought I would hate (California, not the wine). I never pictured myself as liking a sun-drenched, so seemingly culturally wretched place like California. My best friend, who unfortunately is not as Myspace savvy as myself, moved there recently. She bugged and bugged and bugged for me to visit her. I didn't even have to land in San Diego to realise I was falling in love. She had told me, several times over the past year, "I live in Paradise". I didn't believe her. I had several other people, several of them my fellow myspacers, tell me I would fall in love. It is an unlikely place for me to fall for, but I really didn't want to come home. After living near the beach for a total of about four years (both sides of the Atlantic) I have developed a part of me which longs to be near the sea. I don't think I can ultimately settle inland. The weather also intoxicated me. How brilliant would it be to live somewhere that is 70 ish degrees all the time? I love Nashville spring and autumn, even winter, but I cannot stand the summer. I have to drink a lot (see former text on Heineken and cheap white wine) to make it bearable. I spent a week in San Diego. I'm not a good tourist. I hate to think of myself as doing touristy things. I just like to go somewhere and absorb it, do what the locals do, see what everyone who lives there sees. What's the point otherwise? I drove my friend to work everyday and snagged her car for the day and drove around. I went to various beaches, museums, cool areas of town (Hillcrest, Gaslamp, University Heights, North Park, South Park, Mission Beach, Pacific Beach, La Jolla, you name it, I drove there). I loved going on holiday and having so much time to hang out with myself, just chillin' with Orla's Jetta (Betsy). I bitchmoaned about leaving there too (as well as Ireland). The day I left, Orla took a long lunch and we dined on pasta and salad and wine in Little Italy which is right by the airport. I hated to leave her. She is by best friend and pseudo-little sister, (I cried, but in true Claire fashion, only when she couldn't see me) but I also hated to leave San Diego. It was a humbling experience for me because I shouted my mouth off about how I would never live in California (I blame some of that on the residual smoker in me-once a smoker always a smoker) but I had to keep my mouth shut, because I would consider moving there - high real estate and fuel prices and everything. You never know, I might even have to learn how to surf. By the way, if you've never heard of The Bluetones, you should. I'm sorry for America that only the worst British bands make it. I know this is close to heresy and some variety of lightning may strike me, but Coldplay, good though they are, are not the end all be all by any means. On that note, before I offend anyone. Goodnight, fair ones. Currently listening : Expecting to Fly By The Bluetones Release date: 30 July, 1996