Hey L.A., Plant Your Own Fucking Trees and Gimme Mine Back!!

Mr. Saucy Funnybuns and I could have been voted "least likely to be friends", after all, we are such polar opposites in so many regards; instead we were voted "most like a married couple" by those who knew us, and indeed at many times we were. After all, I packed his suitcases that were going on the plane with him today, as he flew out of New York to move to California, because I knew exactly which clothes he wore most and which could be sent with the movers. I know when he's ready to leave the party and go home without him saying a word and I know what he's trying to say when he can't find the right word. He knows when I need him to come to my rescue even if he's across the room and distracted and he knows when I need to be given a wide berth.

We also know how to push eachother's buttons and pinprick the more tender spots of annoyance or hurt...you can't have one without the other, you know.

The fact is that we have spent so much time together in the past two years, and held eachother through so many various and assundry crises, that we do know the little intimacies of eachothers' lives and routines. We can each shop for the other's toilettries, brands and all; that's the level of intimacy we're talking here folks.

And now he's gone.

He left today to move all the way across the freakin country. And what's worse, he's moving to my least favorite place on earth; L.A.

I escaped the glaring fluorescent of the sdj for a moment to go outside for a smoke an hour or so ago, and I was thinking to myself "I guess I'll stop by Mr. SF's apartment when I leave here" (he lived literally around the corner from my sdj). When the realization hit me that he was not there and would never be there again, it literally knocked the wind out of me.

Mr. Saucy Funnybuns has been such an integral part of my life here in New York that I cannot imagine a consistant life without him here; its just utterly unfathomable to me. I know that he's just moving, and its not like I can't go visit him, but the fact remains that the landscape of my daily life has just been drastically altered and where there was a beautiful tree there is now only a stump. While you can still sit on a stump, it cannot provide shade or shelter and you cannot climb it and rest in its branches for comfort.

And who will water and lovingly care for my precious transplanted tree? How will I protect it from being over watered or starved for nutrients? My tree requires a finely honed delicate balance of care in order to thrive and blossom and what if the new gardeners don't know how to care for it?

Its amazing how quickly someone can become such a powerful presence in your life that their absence feels like a tangible hole, residing somewhere between the chest and throat at the moment, to be precise.

::sniffle sniffle::
I fucking hate L.A.