Since I moved to Utah, I have been inviting people to come visit Utah. Come visit Utah! I say. It has got fry sauce and mountains! Mormons and me! You will love Utah! You will come because of a sense of obligation and because you feel a little bit sorry for me, the way that I live in Utah, but you will want to stay for the “scones” (deep-fried sugary bread) and how cute I look in my giant white down jacket that looks more like a comforter and less like an article of clothing.
Weirdly, I wasn’t really taken up on my offer, and I can’t imagine why. When Mo Pie and I talked about seeing Twilight–we share a sick fascination for its magnificent awfulness and balls-to-the-wall determination to be thoroughly offensive in every possible way–we said how cool it would be, if she came to visit and we saw the movie and we had a weekend where I could go look, here is my town and my house and my life and how things are for me. I spend a lot of time talking and writing and telling about how it is and where I live and what I do, but I have had the urge and the desire and the need–I don’t even know why, and I wish I did–to take someone around and show them and say look, this is what I am talking about, do you see?
This has been a hard few months for me. Everything fine and fine and fine and then suddenly, everything going wrong around me and in me and far too close to me, to people who don’t deserve the kind of awfulness that has been visited upon them. Things have been feeling out of control and far too difficult; I have been feeling unrelentingly panicked, helpless, hopeless, scared. I was keeping it together, I think. I honestly don’t know how much longer I could have kept it together. I’ve been wallowing and worrying, stalking around my life tying things up with bits of string and tape and I needed a break, so badly, before I broke.
And then this weekend came along, and Mo Pie came to visit. There is nothing in the world, really, like an old friend who knows you so perfectly well, with whom you feel so comfortable, who settles you and lets you breathe. We ate good food and drank good drinks and saw the brilliantly, howlingly funny Twilight featuring Robert Pattinson’s hair. We played board games and shouted and drank wine and talked a lot. We had brunch and drove through the canyon and bought soundtracks to the movie and made Art and talked more and had dinner and everyone said “Mo, you should move here. Mo, you ought not to go home. Why don’t you stay?” We all wish she could have stayed.
It was such a good weekend. Even though I feel everything creeping back, all the stuff I have to deal with, and all the stuff I have to come to terms with and all the things that are out of my control, I can handle it. I’ve got a recharge and a refresh, and the soundtrack to Twilight.