….. 90 miles…. I drove to see him. As much as I want him to come to me, I realize our lifestyles don’t exactly allow that, so once again, I made myself vunerable. I put on my big girl panties & got in the car with my steel spine activated. We hadn’t gotten along in over a month, he wasn’t the one who called to request my presence, I wasn’t sure how the night would go down but I was willing to find out. Before the show, he avoided me like the plague, I tried to wear the mask and be surface friendly while keeping my distance… every now & then purposely stepping in his path to give him a chance to say something, anything…. to let me know where we stood. After the show, I hung out for maybe 20 minutes & decided to say my goodbyes. He followed me to the car, we began to talk, I agreed to stay over so we could start to repair the damages done recently. I spent the night in a room with 5 dudes but all I recall is how it felt to lay in his arms, feel his warmth, hear him snore, see his laugh, and have him feed me a sandwich. I love him & I don’t care about anything else.
I’m feeling wordless to convey my dilemma. I had a date today with a nice guy, dinner & a movie, and he has too many draw backs. Besides, I’m haunted by the Singer. Why can’t I shake him? Today was weird, he’s got a show tonight, 90 miles away. A venue I’ve seen him play frequently. It’s like I can hear him thinking. And even if it’s only my wishful hope, like a Cinderella complex or something. . . Why not? I did it for him once. Shouldn’t he show some appreciation? Yet, I was on a date with someone else.
I’m at wits end trying to get over Singer. I’ve spent the last three weeks getting to know a new guy, we have mutual friends. He’s smart, interesting, easy to talk to . . . but we’re complicated on the first date. I’m not into that. So he’s gotta go & I feel bad because he’s nice. I also think he’s still too fresh from his last relationship.
So Singer’s trek takes him further away from me tomorrow, I hope the vibe goes with him. The pang is he plays 90 miles in the other direction on Saturday. It’s our crazy traditional city. Alot of stuff goes down in that town when we meet up. So I have to find something to occupy myself to keep me grounded at home, or at least in my own city. I can not go to that show. If I did, he would win. With he & I, this is a struggle of will, an equal match. Why are we toxic magnetic? What’s the remedy? Trust me, this weekend I learned it’s neither the sexy guitarist bartender from that Lounge, nor the nice guy who opens doors…. The Singer obviously pains me . . . so where’s the guy who just chills with me - no pressure - simple - low stress . . . ? Suddenly Pink Floyd plays in my mind. Wait my Nemesis ex ruined that album for me. I’ll never hear it without thinking of gardening. LOL ~ it’s a sordid smile on my face.
Ahhh….. Bad boys, Nice guys, Mini Stalkers, Booty Calls and trios of dozens of alternative adjectives…. One day I’ll publish my Slot Filler Philosophy & help others perfect their spouse order. Hopefully, I’ll get my own right in the process. I’m so getting my fellowship.
The Singer is 90 miles away? Twice this week. Rehearsal is double that. How important are Sprinkles?
Clearly, I should have spent alot of time thinking about The Pact topic tonight, but I didn’t. I went to bed early and was rewarded by waking up at 4 am. I have the worst sleeping patterns sometimes! In any case, over the course of the night I have attempted to think about KJ’s situation but I keep coming back to the same sentiment
… Do what you think is the best thing for you & your future …
But can I say that tomorrow morning? As the best friend/roommate/cousin/Quita, shouldn’t I have more to say? Loads of advice? random thoughts? gut feelings regarding the topic ~ those I definitely have. Truthfully, when the initial statement was made, I had a litany of thoughts, possibilities, and variations of the situation & all involved. I could probably list my opinions in 20 minutes but I’m not going to. My overwhelming spirit tells me to keep quiet on this one, even to the Quitas. My analysis of the situation is from my own unique perspective & I’m not going to tell others how to live their lives or what’s in their deepest heart of hearts. I’m going to listen to my gut. I keep having the same thought so I might as well voice it and thus releasing the bird from it’s cage, I can move on to getting my life right. 6:05 am and I’m crawling back into bed.
The Quita Crew made a pack. One of three made a statement around 3:30 pm and the trio agreed not to discuss their opinions regarding the statement until the following day. So, being that I am a Quita, I can’t talk to anyone about this, but my private blog that is totally available to the public, can hear my inner most thoughts on the subject. To me it’s a journal today. Let me preface a few things…. The last 24 hours I’ve been to a 4 hour class after being up all night talking to a new guy (with whom I’m in the really lovely beginning phases of ?), went to the late show at the movies and not getting to bed until 5 am this morning - up at 10 am. I’m whipped, exhausted and any other culturally acceptable word for the itis that you can think of.
Last night I saw the Sex In The City movie premiere, well the national theatres premiere, but I went to the 12:01 am showing. LOL! Anyhow, if you’ve seen it you’ll be more understanding of this blog subject. I saw it with my best friend and our mutual roommate & I enjoyed it. It was like a super long episode that tied everything up nice & neat, just the way the hopeless romantic wants it to. . . another movie that gives its viewers EXACTLY what they want. My favorite scenes involve flying roses & shower water. Yet I digress, on to the meat of this sandwich. . . The Pact.
Lounging in the house, KJ very seriously told TJ, who immeadiately notified SJ, the third Quita, via the work phone… with all the pomp & circumstance such a statement deserves, each listener heard ”tomorrow eric & i are going to get married.”
The background in short: Eric moves to NYC in a week or so. An 8 hour drive from where we live. The non exclusive, non committed couple held a relationship via instant messaging & email for about 10 months. Finally trading phone numbers, they began to text but rarely talk. It’s now about 2 weeks later. Eric has a very profitable professional job and can keep KJ in the desired lifestyle, he moves with his job and they are considering getting married tomorrow. I know for sure that as recently as 3 days ago, they had never seen each other face to face. That was the same day KJ discovered Eric’s real name, but for the purposes of this blog, the alias will remain. I’m not sure after that whether they have met or not. To the average reader, this sounds like an internet classic right? But what are going to be the makings? Love story or dramatic disaster?
It’s now 4:45 pm.
I think I have very factually presented the case.
I’m going to think on this & keep true to The Pact.
My opinion will be none other than my own by avoiding external discussion regarding this topic.
Until tomorrow.
So I wrote something… maybe a poem… maybe a story… maybe just some random thots about one topic: Live Shows & the hard work behind them…. I sat in a theater style venue in a foreign country writing on the back of my driving directions . . . I write alot & I’m too shy or insecure to publish them but this “creation” has stayed with me the past few weeks so I’m blogging it out…. It’s pretty obvious & simple but also pure . . . what do you think?
Load In to Load Up
rollers clicking past
cases thud against the riser
radio echos surround me
as lamenates & keychains
jingle circles in the air
the trailer spills out her wares
a puzzle to please the masses
as kits & rigs come together
here is the pleasure center
becoming whole once again
silent as a church mouse
I, the lone observer
witness to hard labor
a mostly undetected voyeour
observing & learning
more hidden magic tricks
cables are run
speakers set in place
banner hung high
treasure boxes stored
sounds swarm the hall
testing its resilence
lights dance off shadows
to tease the eyes
massive boards of crowded buttons
awaiting their masters’ command
surrounded by hustle & bustle
I am focused on ….
the lonely mic stand
patiently waiting for someone
to breathe life back into it
yearning to amplify secret thots
surely written by a fevered heart
placed against a melody
once trapped only in the mind
SOON, the thotful melody
will be unleased upon
willing victims - ready to absorb
the bass to their backs
the drums to tickle their toes
the guitar to ring in their ears
the words weaving images in their minds
a collective of sensual energy
gathering power & force
stuck in the bull pen… for now
in a few short hours
these empty seats will fill
women in high heels
men lapping behind them
will flood this hall with
anticipation & starvation
craving a night of music food
to complete their lacking souls
to provide an escape, a release
to erase the day’s sad events
to celebrate the start of a union
to recall blissful memories
music will heal their wounds
music will expand their visions
music will lift their hearts
music will make me whole
once more if just tonight
when the final curtain falls
the trailer will open her craw
to recieve her puzzle treasures
for safe carting until tomorrow
in some other place
full of different people
awaiting their turn . . .
It’s been a little while since I updated my blog & thot it was overdue…. so Cyber World, here’s the latest scoop on my chaotic life…….
#1 ~ I am unemployed - Happily!!! I am chosing to put all of my efforts into college. Forget the normal 4 classes I took while being employed full time, now I’m taking 8 classes. The earlier I graduate, the earlier I can move away from the ghost town that I live in. As for the company I left, I am so glad to be away from false people and their bullshit agendas. Fuck the establishment ~ man that feels good to say (write)!
#2 ~ The Singer - UGH! Today we went around the bend again, as we always do but this time, I put my foot down & called for a determination - no more wishy-washy indecisive bullshit. After 2 years of limbo, we have mutually agreed that we are going to attempt to be just friends. HA! Anyone who’s ever seen the movie: When Harry Met Sally…. well you already know that men & women can not be platonic friends because one always wants to sleep with the other . . . . . so although I’ve never been intimate with this man, the topic has “come up” more than once. So bloggers, wish me luck, I’m gonna try this FRIENDS things but I’ll probably be blogging the total opposite of all of this in 6 months.
#3 ~ The Lost ~ I still think about the people I’ve lost in the last few weeks, I listen to their music, I think of their advice & remember the times I shared with them. . . . I don’t think it will ever leave me but at least the tears have stopped. I’ll never forget you: Mennie, Pandora & Springville.
#4 ~ A Good Thing ~ I live in the northeastern part of the States, it’s usually cold here & summer only lasts 3 months BUT it came early this year ~ it was 89 degrees the other day & nothing makes me happy the way warm weather & good ole sunshine does. Maybe the Universe is righting itself around in my favor?
Can anyone please explain to me how it is possible that I have known 3 people who passed away and were buried this week? First I heard about Kent, then it was Ronnie Newman, and now today I find out about Gram… She wasn’t my grandmother but she was to someone I once loved with my entire soul.
If things come in threes can I please be done now? I can’t take much more. I almost never cry, it has to be something extreme or drastic in order for me to shed a tear… that’s just how I’m made. I’m not cold hearted, just realistic. Death, along with pain, saddness, hurt, anger and LOVE are a part of life. I’ve understood this since the first time I attended a funeral as a child. I’ve been to so many for family & friends that I guess I’ve become somewhat desensitized to losing people. But today . . . tears run freely and I’m surprised as they stream down my cheeks . . . .
I wonder, deep inside, what exactly are these tears for? They are for Lennon - who lost his father. They are for friends & family of Ronnie. They are for Mike - who lost the only stable & constant person in his entire life. They are for recognizing the saddness in this world, the pain of others, the memories of these individuals and the effects they’ve had on my life. . . . these tears are for everyone who must live on without someone they loved & all of those that I love so much that I can’t bear the thought that one day I may witness myself mourning them . . .
Unfortunately, I can’t be there in person but my heart is no where else today.
Today . . . well it really started yesterday, so maybe the last 24 hours? Yeah, that works since I got to the show around 8:30 pm. I can’t decide if I want to write this in short order, or in a more expressive way, which today’s discussion deserves. Ok, here’s a day in my life:
I went to a concert. My ”cousins” were playing with one of my favorite hardcore bands . . . it was even at a venue near me =) We enjoyed the usual devils of the road & it was a great show. I got a free pair of boyshorts, a ringing in my ears, met someone that I’ve wanted to meet for years - best part he walked up to me! This is a platonic meeting, I just think the guy is impressive, with music, business & those growls when he sings!
Anyhow, this is definitely the highlite of my 24 hours. Because that’s around the time I talked to, hmmm, have I named him in this blog ever? Nope, so I’m not going to. There’s only one guy I continue to bang my head against the proverbial brick wall for. Whew, that was long. LOL. Anyhow, we went around the usual bend but it all started with avoidance. An hour later, he’s proclaiming royalty status for us both and bemoaning his broken heart. Talking out of both sides of his mouth. The eternal question: which do I believe? Whatever, yo.
Finally I got home and have a few beers while I thought over the night’s events. When I woke, my best girlfriend told me our friend died that morning. I wonder, will he open Pandora’s box for real now? I don’t mean the “real” Pandora’s box, I mean his mental stores of creativity with words & music. You can do anything when you’re in heaven, nirvana or whatever afterlife you do or don’t believe in. . . we stayed up all night talking about that very topic, Pandora & the afterlife among so many other topics. . . that was last summer. . . I’m gonna miss him, although I didn’t know him well, I did think highly of him. Rest In Peace Kent Young 1980-2008. He’s doing shots with some of the best musicians now.
It made me realize the breavity of life - some people move through your life quickly, usually leaving an impact . . . what impact would I want to have? What do I need to tell everyone? So I called my love, my singer. . . not the swiftest move, I admit it. Either way, I did it. He’s a little put off by me right now, so I deleted his number from my phone. . . let it go, if it comes back . . . we’ll see what happens. Kent was a singer too. . .
Singers are an odd breed, the lyricst side is all brains, the stage presence is the alter ego, and the truest nature is usually insecure, kind, sweet, funny and confused. Wait a second, maybe they’re really just like the rest of the population. I don’t know, either way, I know quite a few singers and they have a lot of similarities with each other.
You know, I just put what I feel on paper (blog) and I don’t pretend that it’s good, bad or otherwise. . . I do it for me, if someone else thinks it’s cool… well, they do say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
caught by surprise . . . . unguarded yet unwilling
attention averted . . . . friend turned to foe
time & space patched . . . . all of the wounded
jumped in the lake . . . . caution became the wind
mismatched minds . . . . forced (faux?) freedom
avoidance lays down in the lion’s den . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . full of fear & shameless surrender
So, that said, Singer & I have a tentative date for a real date. Ironic, it still involves music, but it will be a show where we don’t know anyone but each other. Until then I’m going silent on him, I need to think & so does he.
Meanwhile, I have a different kind of date with the Singer from last night, we’re having chicken wings when his band plays here. He could be an interesting friend to have, very motivational.
See that’s the real point of this blog, how people pass through your life. . . . . I lost a friend this morning, I may have made a new friend last night, I also celebrated with one of my oldest friends today - for it’s his birthday - the day we met 17 years ago. How many relationships last that long - and ours is not based on sex. He’s my ace from the old neighborhood, you have to be a city kid to know what I mean. When I met him, I never had a thought about the possibility that he & I would be friends for life, but here we are.
I guess I don’t really think about people when I meet them, I didn’t realize birthday boy & I would have such a long friendship, I didn’t realize that Singer would become MY Singer, I didn’t realize that my admired singer was standing in front of me last night until he spoke. I should start paying more attention. I always listen when they talk though.
*BIG SIGH* It’s been a very fucked up 24 hours with a few bright spots. I’m exhausted.
I’m going to listen to a band called Buried By Angels. . . The Plague of Pandora.
Before I go, I pay a little homage to a father, singer, friend, a very cool dude . . . Kent aka SIXX
The Plague of Pandora - Buried By Angels
This old chello is playing our song again.
And I have not slept for days.
Her strings cut like a razor blade.
Each note will stain your blood.
Like walking backwards on a tight rope.
To see the world from the top
So fucking anxious
To tear the skin from you
So fucking empty
So fucking hopeless
This fuse will light, sending poison to my heart.
I know the consequences
When my page will turn no more, will you be looking in these eyes.
You’ve sold this poison to me, by virtue of a lie
Now its become one with me, and will not die alone
Like running naked through a glass house
To hide the scars from your past
This fuse will strike, sending poison to my heart.
I know the consequences, and
When my page will turn no more, will you be looking in these eyes.
Like sleeping tightly in a house fire
To meet your maker for breakfast
