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stripe communities II
Sunday, April 18 1999
Occasionally during the night I was awakened simply by the pain of my sunburn. My entire chest was bright red, and there were swaths of the same colour tracing their down both arms and legs to the top surfaces of my feet. On the beach yesterday, I'd used lots of sunblock, but that hadn't saved me. Instead, it had given me too much confidence. One must never underestimate the power of the San Diego sun. I'd had to start turning pink before I would accept the evidence of the damage I was doing to myself. By the way, I've never found sun tans attractive and had no special desire to get one. I'd much rather have good non-malignant skin in old age than look like a Schetevish vanity case in the little that remains of what people still take to be my youth.
Steph came over in the early afternoon and Kim wanted me to join them in another day under the blazing sun down on the beach. But I was afraid. I missed the comfort of unburnt skin. After much persuasion, I agreed to go, but not exactly in beach attire. I put on long pants and a sweatshirt and lots of sunblock on everything that wasn't covered by clothes.
Again we joined fellow members of the Cape May stripe-community: Scott and Justine and a few of their friends, Joe from our apartment complex, as well as a group of young teenage girls whom Scott and Justine often hire as babysitters for their kids. During today's beach experience, these teenage girls provided the bulk of the entertainment. One was an electric, obscenely outgoing little thirteen year old blond girl named something like "Gijy." She was involved with everyone, seemingly simultaneously. Much of her interaction with the various men present (Joe and Scott particularly) had a strongly immature-flirtateous quality. She would punch and insult them at the slightest provocation. Content as I was to sit under an umbrella shrouded in winter clothes, I kept a low-profile and was, as I like to be, more of an observer than a participant to these things. I was particularly interested in the many tales this girl had to tell about being sexually propositioned and harassed by adult men. You see, despite her street-smart attitude and sexually-positioned extrovertism, in her bathing suit she looked nearly as undeveloped as a ten year old girl.
When a group of Mexican teenagers walked by, she shouted out to them that they better come back or they would be in big trouble. They turned around to look and didn't know what to make of her. She might have been a girl, a cute girl for kids of that age, but they were so young they didn't really know yet what girls were for. They shrugged and kept walking. So she chased after them, screaming all the Spanish insults she could remember, like some sort of Sara Poiron gone coyly horny. When she caught up to them, she didn't really know what to do with them, so she dared them six dollars to go into the women's restroom. None of them would. So, to prove her superiority, she ran giggling into the men's room. When she came out, she claimed she'd seen everybody's "little penises." That wasn't strictly true; I'd been in the restroom at the time and she never actually made it back to where the urinals are. If she had, she wouldn't have made such a comment.
On the way back home, we came upon a party happening in a yard in front of house on Cape May. Steph knew the people living at the house, so we all joined the party. Kim even went back to our house to bring Sophie. (But Sophie was in a cranky mood and ended up being a jerk to the cute little dog who'd placed her on the guest list.) We ate some barbecued chicken and mostly socialized with ourselves. But eventually Kim befriended this one soft-spoken guy named Rocky with a pretty vicious scar on his head. The crowd was a pretty conventional one, all of them well-tanned and perfectly shaven, listening to mainstream post-alternative music on the radio. So Kim invited Rocky back to our place to smoke some pot with us.
In the evening, Kim and I headed over to the V!ctoria Rose to meet with her boss about a web site I'm making for her. I was feeling lethargic and vaguely ill, partly from being so sunburned, partly from drinking beer all day on the beach. When we came home, Terra, who'd been at her yoga intensive course all day, had prepared us a dinner of spicy pizza. Now I have two cute girls cooking for me. Life ain't bad.
In other news: Rory, who vanished into Mexico back in early December, has resurfaced in Texas. He wrote to Kim directly but hasn't sent me anything yet. We'd been worried about him. The way we saw it, he was either having a very good time or a very bad time.
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