This morning I thought I'd try the kitty and doggy way and sit in a sunbeam and drink my coffee. Cross-legged in the middle of my kitchen floor... the warm sun, my hot coffee. I think I found heaven. Sadly, it was late in the morning and the sun quickly ran away from me. I feel like I’m warm enough on the outside and that its my insides that need to be warmed. My blood is too cold... I do what I can to warm up my insides. Nothing seems to work.
Then this morning I found this:
“Coldest Star Found - No Hotter Than Fresh Coffee” ~National Geographic 3/28/11
Perhaps they’ve found my heart.
....75 light-years away... called "an oddball object" or "failed star". Yes indeed I think they've found my heart!
I've been back in touch with an old boyfriend who has since become a treasured friend. The contact is always spotty but I do enjoy waking up and seeing that name in my inbox. Last time we saw each other was... ..... 7ish years ago. We met up at a Waffle House a handful of miles up Stewart's Ferry Pike from our old apartment, I think. :) 231 Trails Circle. I LOVED that place. Small, beautiful, fully loaded 1 bed apartment. Living in Nashville is something I will always look back on and smile about. It wasn't all flowers and butterflies. Nothing ever is but it's a great part of who I am and what I've done.
We communicate via email with my return address under a different name. We talk things through, mostly music, sometimes life. He sends me his latest bit of songwriting to listen to and comment on. I anonymously follow his blog, and he mine. This morning he says, "I'm jealous of your vast numbers of followers." :) I have 7.
We met at Berklee in fall 1994. It was both of our first semesters. I saw him constantly.... in The Caf, freezing our butts off at the 2 am fire alarms, the computer lab, library, Supreme's pizza (Oh! The BEST chicken culet sandwiches with pickles!).... I don't remember how we actually met... when we actually began talking. Perhaps one of my faked asthma attacks when the dorm elevators were out, as they often were, and I had to walk the 5 flights to my room. 5 flights causing an asthma attack! Hahahaha I don't even have asthma. It's ridiculous but apparently, it worked.
Our third year at Berklee, we got an "off-campus" apartment, a shit-hole tucked on the side street between the 2 main Berklee buildings. No WAIT!!!! That was MY apartment, with Adron! He had a single in the dorms still!! :) Some details temporarily hide until I take a moment to think back. He didn't spend every night at my place. That's actually why I think we worked as long as we did. Our 4th year, we moved in together, by Fenway Park. We could see and hear the ball games from our apartment. If we had enough cash, we'd take a walk on game days and grab hotdogs for dinner.
I have so many wonderful memories of Boston. We walked everywhere. To Cambridge on nice days, through the Fens on rainy days, and the Commons and Gardens on snowy days. We only took the T if we had too. There was the best little bakery half a block from our apartment. I remember winter of that year, sitting in the bakery in the mornings talking over fresh coffee and hot out of the oven croissants while I waited for the bus to go to work. That place never had anyone in it and was always toasty warm and smelled like heaven.
That April, Marathon Monday to be exact, is when our apartment burnt down. We were having an awful fight. It was "our anniversary" and I offered to take a co-workers shift. I didn't pay attention to things like anniversaries. I still don't really. I don't feel that they are important. Its the everyday you have together that should be celebrated. Anyway, while we fought, we ignored the smoke alarms for a good 2 minutes. They didn't stop. "We better see what's going on." He opened the front door just a little, feeling first for heat as we've all learned since we were little kids. The thickest, darkest smoke poured through the few inch crack. My heart stopped. It's one of those rare moments of pure fear when the Earth stands still.
In an instant I was on my feet hustling up my cat. Ziggy, the older than dirt life-force stealing kitty :) and the 3 of us went out to our fire balcony and waited. We saw helicopters, heard sirens, and saw so many people in the Star Market parking lot below shouting and pointing and covering their faces. Thankfully, we couldn't see the flames shooting out of the building to our right.
Our poor Japanese neighbor, a Berklee trumpet player who could barely speak English, was in such a state of confusion and panic.... I waited on the balcony while he went over to help and bring our neighbor over to us. He was gone what seemed an eternity but then again, when there are suddenly rivers of black smoke pouring through your closet, a few seconds can seem like hours.
The firemen got the 4 people off the 5th floor balcony above us. Then we let our petrified neighbor go. Then he went at which point another fire truck and ladder had come around the back of the building and a huge black fireman was standing on my bed, hand reached out for me saying, "Come out this way, it'll be faster." They took the cat carrier out of my hands and kitty was out of the building and safe.
My memory of going down that ladder included, "this ladder is f'ing HUGE and the rungs are so far apart!" I felt like a miniature doll on a real life ladder, unable to reach the step below. There was a firefighter coming down in front of me facing me and one behind me, with his hand on my bum to which I remember a brief moment of, "heehee, his hand is on my butt" before the feeling of falling came back and I was thankful he was behind me supporting me and talking to me on the way down.
We all stood in the Star Market parking lot watching and waiting and wondering.... an hour, maybe 2. Heck, maybe 3. We made arrangements to stay with our good friend Brian on his futon for a few days. We thankfully had finished our senior recitals the week before and had nothing to worry about but graduation in 2 weeks. Once the building got the all clear, the residents were allowed in to pick up a few belongings but not to stay.
We walked up 4 flights of charred, stinky, dark halls and stairwells. It was devastating. I felt like my heart was going to explode, my legs were shaking, and no one spoke more than gasps and coughs of "Oh my God"s. I got to our door and hesitated before turning the knob. When I pushed the door open it was a sight I'll never forget. It was late afternoon. The sun was low in the spring sky and soft golden light was pouring through the open windows. The cream colored curtains were billowing and dancing. It was like a secret place... a beautiful, sweet smelling and clean hiding place behind those awful hallways. No water damage, minimal smoke damage. The hole in my closet where the smoke was pouring in was small and just a little smoke came through. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, still shaking uncontrollably, collected some clothes and personal effects and locked the door on our way to Brian's.
If you have the urge to know what a burned out building smells like go to the market and look for Lapsang Souchong tea. It smells exactly like what our building smelled like that day after the fire was out.
The fire was started by our downstairs neighbor one door over. She fell asleep with a candle lit on her kitchen table. The only thing left of her apartment was a now black bathtub, toilet, and sink.
We were in 3 newspapers over the next few days. I still have the clippings along with a left-over invitation to my senior recital with a giant black boot print on it.
The song he sent me this morning took me back to Boston for a moment. That's what good songwriting does. It hits you somewhere, even if for just a moment and draws you in. And for just a moment my insides were a little warmer as a smile crossed my face.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
just silly.....
Sometimes you just have to mop the ceiling. (really, take a look at your bathroom ceiling. I did today....)
And sometimes you need to eat chocolate chips for breakfast.
And sometimes things pop into your head randomly that you just have to laugh at.... or off.
This afternoon while stripping for a shower I remembered the words of a not so wise lead singer. More of a douche than a musician or a friend but there are always a few of those around. It was reminiscent of ways I had been spoken to in the past. It reminded me of how far I’ve come.
“You’re really beautiful but not skinny enough to play music in public with an sort of success. I mean, I need to get in shape too but you’re a female, you really need to lose a lot of weight.”
Mind you, this was said to me less than a year after I dropped a whopping 65 lbs and was a size below the national average. I still am by the way, down the 65 lbs and a size below what is considered the national average pant size. I’m not skinny. I will never be a “skinny” girl. I have shape. Pretty great shape I think and I know how to dress it.
So I’m going to sit here and eat my chocolate chips for breakfast.... well, lunch and drink my coffee with a little too much sugar and give a big middle finger shout out to any asshole that ever tells a girl she’s not skinny enough.
And this concludes my girly shout out of the month.
Ahahaha!
And sometimes you need to eat chocolate chips for breakfast.
And sometimes things pop into your head randomly that you just have to laugh at.... or off.
This afternoon while stripping for a shower I remembered the words of a not so wise lead singer. More of a douche than a musician or a friend but there are always a few of those around. It was reminiscent of ways I had been spoken to in the past. It reminded me of how far I’ve come.
“You’re really beautiful but not skinny enough to play music in public with an sort of success. I mean, I need to get in shape too but you’re a female, you really need to lose a lot of weight.”
Mind you, this was said to me less than a year after I dropped a whopping 65 lbs and was a size below the national average. I still am by the way, down the 65 lbs and a size below what is considered the national average pant size. I’m not skinny. I will never be a “skinny” girl. I have shape. Pretty great shape I think and I know how to dress it.
So I’m going to sit here and eat my chocolate chips for breakfast.... well, lunch and drink my coffee with a little too much sugar and give a big middle finger shout out to any asshole that ever tells a girl she’s not skinny enough.
And this concludes my girly shout out of the month.
Ahahaha!
Monday, March 21, 2011
When I grow up I wanna be a rockstar!
It was barely warm enough for me to sleep that night so I curled up as close as possible to him hoping not to wake him or crowd him too much or get elbowed in the head like last time. This makes me feel a little like Lamia in Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere... stealing heat from a warm blooded man. I like being here. I like this particular company. This is not my warmth to have for more than a few hours but I'll enjoy it while I can. I put the blanket over my head and it was good enough to put me out.
Once he left the bed was way too cold to sleep. I cranked the heat as high as I could and snuggled under the covers until the room felt like a summer day in Faros. Hot and dry, the rocky beach with the clearest water and no waves... on a clear day you can see Turkey from here. Fourni, visible on even the haziest of days, is directly ahead and has the BIGGEST, most delicious lobsters (my grandfather would tell me this while using his hands to roughly measure 2 1/2 feet and my grandmother would shake her head and walk away). :) I fell into a deep sleep for the next hour and a half.
I slept better last night, not because I was home but because I had the heat of the electric blanket over me.
And what a great weekend!
*boop
whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpsssssssssssshwhirrrrrrrrrchunkwhirr
*blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink...........
*boop
kksssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhh chunk chunk whirr whiiiiiiiiiiirrr
drip.drip.dripdrippooooooooour.dripdrip.drip. drip whiiiiiirrrrrrrr psssssss hrrrrrrhrrrrhrrrr whoop
Those are the sounds of my fully automatic espresso machine when I press the "on" button and then "play." These sounds bring me pleasure everyday, sometimes (ok, always) multiple times. Yes, I am a coffee addict.
Its a dreary Monday.... grey. cold and rainy. Welcome spring : p I feel like a different person than last week... I feel like myself again.... icicle toes and nose and frosty fingers.... its cold as balls in here. Always, always so cold.
Looking back, I wonder if becoming a musician was really my choice. Occasionally I've felt like I was pushed into it because I was good, really good. "Conservatory" good. Haha boy am I glad I at least put my foot down there. Could you imagine me in a conservatory? I'da flunked my ass out in the first semester I think. I never wanted to be a classical pianist. To be perfectly honest, I can't sit and listen to classical music, it either puts me to sleep or irritates me. I really don't care for it, unless I'm playing it. Its been years since I've had the patience to sit and learn an entire piece but I'm feeling the desire right now.
Usually I feel like I'm just not good enough. Some days I know I'm not good enough. Most definitely my chops aren't what they used to be. I can say though that my general improv has improved and my ears are still pretty kickin'. I love to play. Days and nights and all the times. :) I feel at home behind the keyboard and can safely hide there any time and recharge or slow down or fall in love or out of it.
I never wanted to be a teacher. Never really had the desire to be a player either. But I was good and had ignored my academics enough to not have enough math or science credits to go into anything else. What would my other choice have been? A deep love of biology and chemistry and genetics and I easily got the grades in those classes. Had my father been a bigger presence and influence in my life, and my mother not so defiant and pigheaded (stubbornness and pigheadedness and defiance runs deep through both my parents), I may have gone to a University and gotten a "well- rounded" education and chosen a different path....... and kicked myself for it for the rest of my life.
I didn't choose to be a musician. I didn't choose to not go to a university. I didn't choose to be a strange girl with the penchant for being alone, having silly-crazy adventures, and being misunderstood most of the time. Ha! I had no choice. I was born this way.
This is not a revelation. I'm just thinking through the things in my head. It seems I have finally found a musician that I feel at home with. It just seems to work.... and seems to get better every time. I'm having so much fun and am motivated and always inspired. I'm very happy and excited and looking forward to continuing and improving our current path.
\m/
Once he left the bed was way too cold to sleep. I cranked the heat as high as I could and snuggled under the covers until the room felt like a summer day in Faros. Hot and dry, the rocky beach with the clearest water and no waves... on a clear day you can see Turkey from here. Fourni, visible on even the haziest of days, is directly ahead and has the BIGGEST, most delicious lobsters (my grandfather would tell me this while using his hands to roughly measure 2 1/2 feet and my grandmother would shake her head and walk away). :) I fell into a deep sleep for the next hour and a half.
I slept better last night, not because I was home but because I had the heat of the electric blanket over me.
And what a great weekend!
*boop
whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpsssssssssssshwhirrrrrrrrrchunkwhirr
*blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink.blink...........
*boop
kksssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhh chunk chunk whirr whiiiiiiiiiiirrr
drip.drip.dripdrippooooooooour.dripdrip.drip. drip whiiiiiirrrrrrrr psssssss hrrrrrrhrrrrhrrrr whoop
Those are the sounds of my fully automatic espresso machine when I press the "on" button and then "play." These sounds bring me pleasure everyday, sometimes (ok, always) multiple times. Yes, I am a coffee addict.
Its a dreary Monday.... grey. cold and rainy. Welcome spring : p I feel like a different person than last week... I feel like myself again.... icicle toes and nose and frosty fingers.... its cold as balls in here. Always, always so cold.
Looking back, I wonder if becoming a musician was really my choice. Occasionally I've felt like I was pushed into it because I was good, really good. "Conservatory" good. Haha boy am I glad I at least put my foot down there. Could you imagine me in a conservatory? I'da flunked my ass out in the first semester I think. I never wanted to be a classical pianist. To be perfectly honest, I can't sit and listen to classical music, it either puts me to sleep or irritates me. I really don't care for it, unless I'm playing it. Its been years since I've had the patience to sit and learn an entire piece but I'm feeling the desire right now.
Usually I feel like I'm just not good enough. Some days I know I'm not good enough. Most definitely my chops aren't what they used to be. I can say though that my general improv has improved and my ears are still pretty kickin'. I love to play. Days and nights and all the times. :) I feel at home behind the keyboard and can safely hide there any time and recharge or slow down or fall in love or out of it.
I never wanted to be a teacher. Never really had the desire to be a player either. But I was good and had ignored my academics enough to not have enough math or science credits to go into anything else. What would my other choice have been? A deep love of biology and chemistry and genetics and I easily got the grades in those classes. Had my father been a bigger presence and influence in my life, and my mother not so defiant and pigheaded (stubbornness and pigheadedness and defiance runs deep through both my parents), I may have gone to a University and gotten a "well- rounded" education and chosen a different path....... and kicked myself for it for the rest of my life.
I didn't choose to be a musician. I didn't choose to not go to a university. I didn't choose to be a strange girl with the penchant for being alone, having silly-crazy adventures, and being misunderstood most of the time. Ha! I had no choice. I was born this way.
This is not a revelation. I'm just thinking through the things in my head. It seems I have finally found a musician that I feel at home with. It just seems to work.... and seems to get better every time. I'm having so much fun and am motivated and always inspired. I'm very happy and excited and looking forward to continuing and improving our current path.
\m/
Friday, March 18, 2011
Its not often I function at all before coffee...
There's such a great calm in this morning. I'm out of bed a little earlier and everything is quiet. The Yarn Mill must not be very busy today. No semis blocking the street or forklifts honking and running around. The boys downstairs must be gone for the day. And the traffic on 95 sounds light and distant. I hear the birds a little out there, enjoying this slightly overcast but warm, gorgeous morning.
I haven't even made coffee yet. Or checked my email or facebook. Or turned on the radio. It seems like I am the only person alive right now and its the most beautiful feeling ever. I do love being alone. I love the way the sun comes into my bathroom through the clematis. Bright blues and greens and oranges. The sun pushes through it all and makes it so perfect.
The air coming through the open window is reminiscent of a very early, late summer morning. Though the air is a little chilly. Its almost like there's a hint of fall in the air instead of it being winter air with the hint of spring. And yes, there is a difference and if you don't know that, you don't really pay attention.
There's a layer of dust on the screen of my silly purple tv. I didn't think it had been that long since I rented a movie..... its not awful bad though, I can still see the reflection of my snow penguins in it. I'll be putting them away soon. and my red crocheted winter hat and Scottish wool scarf. Spring is nearly here. I don't want to listen to the radio yet or look on the internet and see that this is a fluke of a day and that the 50 degree days will be back. I'm sure they will, sooner rather than later, but this is too nice to fuck up with reality just yet.
Today will take me on a short trip to my hometown (insert Bruce) to pick up another patch cable for my B3 module. It is closest to my afternoon lessons. I rarely go there anymore. I have no reason to. Nor any urge to. I always had the idea in my head that growing up and staying in or going back to the place you grew up was a sign of failure. Its ok to visit but not to live. I still actually feel that way a little. Living in the city of those suburbs is only slightly better in my mind. Still not enough success for being as old as my driver's license claims me to be. My idea of success hasn't changed really though I understand what I have done and am doing in my current career path is indeed considered successful. I have done well for myself and get to boast working a 22 hour work week and have enough money to get by. Really though, I spend too much of my time freaking out about money.... its all in which details you choose to tell.
Perhaps its time for that coffee. And maybe some music. I'm not sure what I want to hear right now. Radiohead? Pink Floyd? Foo Fighters maybe? .....
Well, I'm certainly avoiding my morning washing the dishes routine. Coffee first then maybe an early start back "home" and to my day. Uggh, typing that maybe my stomach turn. Coffee first. Eyes closed, Foo Fighters and coffee the rest of the day will happen soon enough.
I haven't even made coffee yet. Or checked my email or facebook. Or turned on the radio. It seems like I am the only person alive right now and its the most beautiful feeling ever. I do love being alone. I love the way the sun comes into my bathroom through the clematis. Bright blues and greens and oranges. The sun pushes through it all and makes it so perfect.
The air coming through the open window is reminiscent of a very early, late summer morning. Though the air is a little chilly. Its almost like there's a hint of fall in the air instead of it being winter air with the hint of spring. And yes, there is a difference and if you don't know that, you don't really pay attention.
There's a layer of dust on the screen of my silly purple tv. I didn't think it had been that long since I rented a movie..... its not awful bad though, I can still see the reflection of my snow penguins in it. I'll be putting them away soon. and my red crocheted winter hat and Scottish wool scarf. Spring is nearly here. I don't want to listen to the radio yet or look on the internet and see that this is a fluke of a day and that the 50 degree days will be back. I'm sure they will, sooner rather than later, but this is too nice to fuck up with reality just yet.
Today will take me on a short trip to my hometown (insert Bruce) to pick up another patch cable for my B3 module. It is closest to my afternoon lessons. I rarely go there anymore. I have no reason to. Nor any urge to. I always had the idea in my head that growing up and staying in or going back to the place you grew up was a sign of failure. Its ok to visit but not to live. I still actually feel that way a little. Living in the city of those suburbs is only slightly better in my mind. Still not enough success for being as old as my driver's license claims me to be. My idea of success hasn't changed really though I understand what I have done and am doing in my current career path is indeed considered successful. I have done well for myself and get to boast working a 22 hour work week and have enough money to get by. Really though, I spend too much of my time freaking out about money.... its all in which details you choose to tell.
Perhaps its time for that coffee. And maybe some music. I'm not sure what I want to hear right now. Radiohead? Pink Floyd? Foo Fighters maybe? .....
Well, I'm certainly avoiding my morning washing the dishes routine. Coffee first then maybe an early start back "home" and to my day. Uggh, typing that maybe my stomach turn. Coffee first. Eyes closed, Foo Fighters and coffee the rest of the day will happen soon enough.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Home
There's a small sliver of light somehow sneaking through my 4 layers of curtains. It woke me up and won't let me sleep anymore. I peek at my phone.... 7:49 *grunt* that's just not going to work for me. I roll over and pull the covers over my head hoping it'll block out the razor blade thick beam of sun.
i just.
want.
to sleep.
I snuggle deeper into the covers and relax as much as I can. I try to clear my head but it doesn't work. The dog from the first floor starts barking and its shithead owners just let it bark. Assholes. They don't deserve a dog. poor thing just gets thrown outside all day, everyday, regardless of the weather. and they never walk him.
I take a peek at my phone again. 8:34...
suddenly I have to pee. I hobble to the bathroom through the excessively bright kitchen and back again. I realize the blade of sun is no longer in my bedroom. I look at my phone. 10:51. huh.
:)
There is nothing greater in this world than my apartment. My quiet, still, lonely, dark, cozy, beautiful, wonderful, just the way I want it apartment.
:)
First thing I do each day is turn on the radio... a 15 year old silver radio/cd/cassette player. Usually tuned to KYW 1060 AM. (Yes, I listen to news radio everyday. It reminds me there is indeed a world out there even if I don't feel like opening my curtains and seeing the daylight.) I must have hit the button and changed it to FM today and an awful song poured into my room. I couldn't change it back fast enough.
Bathroom, contacts, dishes, coffee, computer. For being so anti-routine, I definitely find comfort in starting my day this way. Stupid song... piece of crap yuck shit. Of all songs to hear first in the day, I just happened to be *lucky* enough to hear one I despise not only because its a shitty bit of songwriting but it digs up some shit-ass memories.
My skin still crawls when I think of him.
It ended 6 years ago. I had known his parents for 7 months before meeting him. They were certain that when he moved back home we were going to want to go out on a date. Sure enough a few weeks after he arrived home we had our first date. He planned it based on our conversations. When the night began I really thought he was messing with me. Certainly he did not plan an entire evening around something I was very vocal about disliking but it turned out, he not only did just that but was excited about how much I'd enjoy it. I should’ve run right then but I didn't. I was tired of being alone and was depressed and lost. He fell hard for me and I supposed he was nice enough. By the second date we were a couple.
Six months later we were living together. My friends and family loved him! Thought he was the bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas and any other ridiculous expression you can think of. I knew within 3 months of living with him that I had made the biggest mistake of my life and it was too late. I was too scared to leave and too scared to stay and had no one to talk to about it. I forced smiles and nodded every time someone said how great he was. At one point I had everything justified in my head that this was the way everything was supposed to be regardless of the fact that I had to pick up another bucket of spackle from Home Depot. This must be where I belong. Everyone thinks so... and he’s never hit me.... just the wall next to me....
The bigger the holes in the wall got, the more I drank to hide the voices in my head so I could listen to my family and friends.... of course they had no idea of what things were like at home but "they love me and they’re smart, and I can’t seem to think straight these days. I'm sure they're right and I'm wrong. I’ll trust them."
I worked 3 jobs so I wouldn’t be home much and would stay up on the computer to avoid sleeping in the same bed as him ever since I woke that one night with his hands in places they should never have been while I was asleep. His alarm would go off at 4:20 every morning and he hit snooze once every day. I would stay up until 3 minutes after he hit snooze and then gently crawl into bed before the alarm rang again.
I was tired all the time. Sometimes I would fall asleep at work or in my car in parking lots between jobs. He was out one Sunday... playing his stupid army man game at the game store in the Franklin Mills Mall. I never could understand how he could love a game so much that was played primarily by 12-14 yr old boys. He got so excited one day that he played an “awesome game” even though he lost.... to an 8 yr old. While he was out playing, I crawled into bed.... I just needed a few hours sleep. I just needed to close my eyes and rest. I must have fallen into a super deep sleep. I must have needed the sleep so badly. I didn’t mean to sleep so long or so heavily. I wish I had gone to my mother’s or had just never taken a nap that afternoon. I didn’t hear him come home or into the bedroom and didn’t even feel him climb into bed until I was pinned down.
Everything I hate about the song that brought this all up is everything I love about music. That was a trip down memory lane I could've done without but looking at where I am now, it's ok. I'm good. Better than good, I'm happy and content and alive.
i just.
want.
to sleep.
I snuggle deeper into the covers and relax as much as I can. I try to clear my head but it doesn't work. The dog from the first floor starts barking and its shithead owners just let it bark. Assholes. They don't deserve a dog. poor thing just gets thrown outside all day, everyday, regardless of the weather. and they never walk him.
I take a peek at my phone again. 8:34...
suddenly I have to pee. I hobble to the bathroom through the excessively bright kitchen and back again. I realize the blade of sun is no longer in my bedroom. I look at my phone. 10:51. huh.
:)
There is nothing greater in this world than my apartment. My quiet, still, lonely, dark, cozy, beautiful, wonderful, just the way I want it apartment.
:)
First thing I do each day is turn on the radio... a 15 year old silver radio/cd/cassette player. Usually tuned to KYW 1060 AM. (Yes, I listen to news radio everyday. It reminds me there is indeed a world out there even if I don't feel like opening my curtains and seeing the daylight.) I must have hit the button and changed it to FM today and an awful song poured into my room. I couldn't change it back fast enough.
Bathroom, contacts, dishes, coffee, computer. For being so anti-routine, I definitely find comfort in starting my day this way. Stupid song... piece of crap yuck shit. Of all songs to hear first in the day, I just happened to be *lucky* enough to hear one I despise not only because its a shitty bit of songwriting but it digs up some shit-ass memories.
My skin still crawls when I think of him.
It ended 6 years ago. I had known his parents for 7 months before meeting him. They were certain that when he moved back home we were going to want to go out on a date. Sure enough a few weeks after he arrived home we had our first date. He planned it based on our conversations. When the night began I really thought he was messing with me. Certainly he did not plan an entire evening around something I was very vocal about disliking but it turned out, he not only did just that but was excited about how much I'd enjoy it. I should’ve run right then but I didn't. I was tired of being alone and was depressed and lost. He fell hard for me and I supposed he was nice enough. By the second date we were a couple.
Six months later we were living together. My friends and family loved him! Thought he was the bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas and any other ridiculous expression you can think of. I knew within 3 months of living with him that I had made the biggest mistake of my life and it was too late. I was too scared to leave and too scared to stay and had no one to talk to about it. I forced smiles and nodded every time someone said how great he was. At one point I had everything justified in my head that this was the way everything was supposed to be regardless of the fact that I had to pick up another bucket of spackle from Home Depot. This must be where I belong. Everyone thinks so... and he’s never hit me.... just the wall next to me....
The bigger the holes in the wall got, the more I drank to hide the voices in my head so I could listen to my family and friends.... of course they had no idea of what things were like at home but "they love me and they’re smart, and I can’t seem to think straight these days. I'm sure they're right and I'm wrong. I’ll trust them."
I worked 3 jobs so I wouldn’t be home much and would stay up on the computer to avoid sleeping in the same bed as him ever since I woke that one night with his hands in places they should never have been while I was asleep. His alarm would go off at 4:20 every morning and he hit snooze once every day. I would stay up until 3 minutes after he hit snooze and then gently crawl into bed before the alarm rang again.
I was tired all the time. Sometimes I would fall asleep at work or in my car in parking lots between jobs. He was out one Sunday... playing his stupid army man game at the game store in the Franklin Mills Mall. I never could understand how he could love a game so much that was played primarily by 12-14 yr old boys. He got so excited one day that he played an “awesome game” even though he lost.... to an 8 yr old. While he was out playing, I crawled into bed.... I just needed a few hours sleep. I just needed to close my eyes and rest. I must have fallen into a super deep sleep. I must have needed the sleep so badly. I didn’t mean to sleep so long or so heavily. I wish I had gone to my mother’s or had just never taken a nap that afternoon. I didn’t hear him come home or into the bedroom and didn’t even feel him climb into bed until I was pinned down.
Everything I hate about the song that brought this all up is everything I love about music. That was a trip down memory lane I could've done without but looking at where I am now, it's ok. I'm good. Better than good, I'm happy and content and alive.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
another bottle of wine please
She's following the sun spot across the kitchen floor... just like she did with the moon last night. My stomach is growling and I'm starting to feel a little woozy. just a little. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. The city food smells seem to travel better in the cooler air and fill my house with deliciousness. Am I really going to spend the few bucks I have on a bottle of wine? Probably yes. Something to occupy myself while I wait.
On Wednesday, at 11:09 pm apparently, autumn will officially begin. I'm excited for fall this year. Even though I'm already feeling the chill and sitting in my kitchen in long sleeves and a sweater. There's something about sitting at my table feeling the cool air pour through the window while I drink my coffee. the fresh ground beans smell cleaner and warmer than usual and my steaming mug of coffee tastes like everything is going to be ok.
I ran away to Florida 2 years ago, and you came for a long weekend. And no matter the stress of your quickly disintegrating marriage, you slept on the couch. You remembered out loud all those other times when I made you stay on the couch in years past and thanked me. I dragged you to the beach one night after dinner and we found a few chairs and sat and watched the sunset, talking a little at first, then silence for what seemed like an eternity. You never took your eyes from the setting sun. not once. "I have never before been in direct line of where the sun sinks into the ocean. Wow." and that was it for another eternity. That had been my same thought every night for the past 4 weeks.
I drove you to the airport on Sunday.... sent you back to Philly where you hopped a train and bee-lined for the Jersey Shore. You had a renewed sense of making it work and surprised her with a visit and "the best time we've had in a really long time." and we smiled through the phone as you rehashed the day with your wife and daughter.
A month and a half later, you moved out.... on your anniversary.
After 10 years, we'd been through it all. We buried our fathers, lost friends, moved, changed jobs, got and gave broken hearts, abusive relationships, marriage, children, and now divorce. There we were, sitting on the couch you "won" in the divorce in front of your giant tv which we rarely turned on, listening to music and drinking vodka cranberries and talking. movies, music, poetry, art, dance, politics, becoming the people we were always meant to be, doing the things we love with the people who matter. You brought out the pictures one night and looked through trying so hard to figure how you got where you were. I reminded you of the time 9 years before as I dropped you off at your Robbins St apartment when you told me, "Sometimes you just have to settle for good enough." You looked at me quizzically for a second then turned back to the box of pictures and said, "It's a good thing you didn't listen to me, I shouldn't have listened to myself. That's a bunch of bullshit."
Monday night dinners, Wednesday night drinks, and Fridays and/or Saturdays any combination of movies and events around the city. I don't remember when the friendship turned again... when sleeping together became a normal thing that friends do. There was no more "in love" for us for each other. Just love and understanding and respect and comfort and safety. We knew each other inside out. Its no small joke that the ex-wife used to call me the female version of her husband. It was common knowledge that we think the same.
We spent Thanksgiving together, neither of us willing to deal with our family but more than happy to watch someone else's dysfunction for the day. Good memories, good new friends, good times and a whole lotta good food :) I felt just fine to be where I was. We were on a roll, on fire even. Happy with where our lives were and where things were headed and constantly in awe of having, truly having, a best friend which "nothing could ever change."
In late winter and early spring things got better for both of us. Our conversations had the added element of having new people in our lives. Over white pizza with bacon and a bottle of wine, you told me stories of her and asked me all sorts of things about him. We talked about all the things that we weren't ready to talk about with anyone else. I didn't have to tell you my best secret, you saw it in my eyes and said it first. I still refuse to acknowledge that one... and I know its safe with you. We worked things through together and made sure both of us were staying in that good place.
I was in a bar in Dover when I got the first text,
"im actually having a good time at this bbq. her friends are pretty cool. hope youre too busy having great sex to read this ;)"
"haha at a gig now chillin' and watching the drunk college girls..."
there were a few more back and forth texts of nothing in particular then,
"shit. don't respond back. she just asked about our history... i have to do some damage control. we'll talk soon."
A few days passed.
One email and one reply.
Then the voicemail, "Call me when you get a chance."
I suppose I should have found it odd to get the phone call in the middle of the work day but I didn't. I assumed he was trying to set up plans for the UFC fight the coming Saturday.
blah blah blah... he said words. the best I could get out of my mouth was, "ok. Bye." and I hung up.
The leaves are beginning to change and fall already... scattered across the Port Richmond rooftops. there's a bonus to living on the top floor of the tallest home on the block.... a vantage point like no other. A chilly dampness is filling my apartment..... its been raining off and on for days now. I've watched it all from my kitchen table while I wait.
On Wednesday, at 11:09 pm apparently, autumn will officially begin. I'm excited for fall this year. Even though I'm already feeling the chill and sitting in my kitchen in long sleeves and a sweater. There's something about sitting at my table feeling the cool air pour through the window while I drink my coffee. the fresh ground beans smell cleaner and warmer than usual and my steaming mug of coffee tastes like everything is going to be ok.
I ran away to Florida 2 years ago, and you came for a long weekend. And no matter the stress of your quickly disintegrating marriage, you slept on the couch. You remembered out loud all those other times when I made you stay on the couch in years past and thanked me. I dragged you to the beach one night after dinner and we found a few chairs and sat and watched the sunset, talking a little at first, then silence for what seemed like an eternity. You never took your eyes from the setting sun. not once. "I have never before been in direct line of where the sun sinks into the ocean. Wow." and that was it for another eternity. That had been my same thought every night for the past 4 weeks.
I drove you to the airport on Sunday.... sent you back to Philly where you hopped a train and bee-lined for the Jersey Shore. You had a renewed sense of making it work and surprised her with a visit and "the best time we've had in a really long time." and we smiled through the phone as you rehashed the day with your wife and daughter.
A month and a half later, you moved out.... on your anniversary.
After 10 years, we'd been through it all. We buried our fathers, lost friends, moved, changed jobs, got and gave broken hearts, abusive relationships, marriage, children, and now divorce. There we were, sitting on the couch you "won" in the divorce in front of your giant tv which we rarely turned on, listening to music and drinking vodka cranberries and talking. movies, music, poetry, art, dance, politics, becoming the people we were always meant to be, doing the things we love with the people who matter. You brought out the pictures one night and looked through trying so hard to figure how you got where you were. I reminded you of the time 9 years before as I dropped you off at your Robbins St apartment when you told me, "Sometimes you just have to settle for good enough." You looked at me quizzically for a second then turned back to the box of pictures and said, "It's a good thing you didn't listen to me, I shouldn't have listened to myself. That's a bunch of bullshit."
Monday night dinners, Wednesday night drinks, and Fridays and/or Saturdays any combination of movies and events around the city. I don't remember when the friendship turned again... when sleeping together became a normal thing that friends do. There was no more "in love" for us for each other. Just love and understanding and respect and comfort and safety. We knew each other inside out. Its no small joke that the ex-wife used to call me the female version of her husband. It was common knowledge that we think the same.
We spent Thanksgiving together, neither of us willing to deal with our family but more than happy to watch someone else's dysfunction for the day. Good memories, good new friends, good times and a whole lotta good food :) I felt just fine to be where I was. We were on a roll, on fire even. Happy with where our lives were and where things were headed and constantly in awe of having, truly having, a best friend which "nothing could ever change."
In late winter and early spring things got better for both of us. Our conversations had the added element of having new people in our lives. Over white pizza with bacon and a bottle of wine, you told me stories of her and asked me all sorts of things about him. We talked about all the things that we weren't ready to talk about with anyone else. I didn't have to tell you my best secret, you saw it in my eyes and said it first. I still refuse to acknowledge that one... and I know its safe with you. We worked things through together and made sure both of us were staying in that good place.
I was in a bar in Dover when I got the first text,
"im actually having a good time at this bbq. her friends are pretty cool. hope youre too busy having great sex to read this ;)"
"haha at a gig now chillin' and watching the drunk college girls..."
there were a few more back and forth texts of nothing in particular then,
"shit. don't respond back. she just asked about our history... i have to do some damage control. we'll talk soon."
A few days passed.
One email and one reply.
Then the voicemail, "Call me when you get a chance."
I suppose I should have found it odd to get the phone call in the middle of the work day but I didn't. I assumed he was trying to set up plans for the UFC fight the coming Saturday.
blah blah blah... he said words. the best I could get out of my mouth was, "ok. Bye." and I hung up.
The leaves are beginning to change and fall already... scattered across the Port Richmond rooftops. there's a bonus to living on the top floor of the tallest home on the block.... a vantage point like no other. A chilly dampness is filling my apartment..... its been raining off and on for days now. I've watched it all from my kitchen table while I wait.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
tattoo convention adventures
i love the smell of ink, blood, and sweat. sweet and tangy. exhilarating. the talent was incredible. local, and not so local, artists doing what they love. creepy beautiful. beautifully thought provoking.
i have never been to the tattoo convention before.... so many beautiful people in one place. so much nudity too.... girls in bras and panties and fishnets walking around as if it was normal to do so in public. one girl went as far as to don only electrical tape over her nipples, a pair of black panties and high heels. it was Shampoo all over again but with the sounds of tattoo guns instead of music. i felt small and not good enough in any way.
the convention took up 2 floors. one mostly vendors. clothing, jewelry, artwork. the other mostly tattoo stations. i looked for you. i knew you wouldn’t be there, but it didn’t stop me from looking. there were certainly a ton of large, bald, tatted out men there :) Had I found you I’m not sure what I would have done. likely stood there and stared and waited for you to say something. and i’d definitely have a new tat right now and probably a black eye.
you weren’t there. its better this way.
eventually the sea of people became irritating and the heat overwhelming and we headed out to her favorite bar. First bar I’ve been to in a long time that had male bartenders. sexy male bartenders. i felt old. and plain. and sad.
this is where we met Steve Buscemi.
i had had enough of the convention's $3 pbr’s and was drinking vodka tonics by this point. the beautiful bartenders kept them coming. and this place had some killer chicken tacos! so there we were, chicken tacos, beers and vodka, and Steve Buscemi. It was a good night.
but there were trains to catch... and once it was time to go we decided instead to cab it back to my place. We finished one last round and headed up the street for some pizza, grabbed a cab back to my place, and hit the Corner Bar for a round. i suppose it was close to closing time by the looks on the faces of the 5 people in that place. we didn't care. we had a beer and walked up the street to my warm bed where we had another beer before turning in. (I’m beginning to realize why this story is heading where it is heading).
She slept on my side and I on “yours” well she actually slept in the divot in the middle pushing me to the edge.... typical. we cozied up and fell asleep only to be woken way too early by blackberry's alarm. damn church.... damn niece's and nephew’s and baptisms and birthdays. i drove her to the el and left her with a token and instructions to get to her train and off to her sunday.
i climbed back in bed. i felt like shit. first time in 17 years i had a hangover. 2 days later and i still don’t feel quite right. mostly i’m angry with myself. its been only recently where i’m finding myself insanely drunk by the end of the night. i used to be so good at gauging and checking and controlling. when did i lose myself?
the smell of sweat is still lingering in the air. not the good kind like at the convention. not sexy. not exhilarating. gross, sickly body odor. i need to take a shower. i need to wash off this monster clinging to my flesh. i need to regain control.
and i need to find my deodorant....
i have never been to the tattoo convention before.... so many beautiful people in one place. so much nudity too.... girls in bras and panties and fishnets walking around as if it was normal to do so in public. one girl went as far as to don only electrical tape over her nipples, a pair of black panties and high heels. it was Shampoo all over again but with the sounds of tattoo guns instead of music. i felt small and not good enough in any way.
the convention took up 2 floors. one mostly vendors. clothing, jewelry, artwork. the other mostly tattoo stations. i looked for you. i knew you wouldn’t be there, but it didn’t stop me from looking. there were certainly a ton of large, bald, tatted out men there :) Had I found you I’m not sure what I would have done. likely stood there and stared and waited for you to say something. and i’d definitely have a new tat right now and probably a black eye.
you weren’t there. its better this way.
eventually the sea of people became irritating and the heat overwhelming and we headed out to her favorite bar. First bar I’ve been to in a long time that had male bartenders. sexy male bartenders. i felt old. and plain. and sad.
this is where we met Steve Buscemi.
i had had enough of the convention's $3 pbr’s and was drinking vodka tonics by this point. the beautiful bartenders kept them coming. and this place had some killer chicken tacos! so there we were, chicken tacos, beers and vodka, and Steve Buscemi. It was a good night.
but there were trains to catch... and once it was time to go we decided instead to cab it back to my place. We finished one last round and headed up the street for some pizza, grabbed a cab back to my place, and hit the Corner Bar for a round. i suppose it was close to closing time by the looks on the faces of the 5 people in that place. we didn't care. we had a beer and walked up the street to my warm bed where we had another beer before turning in. (I’m beginning to realize why this story is heading where it is heading).
She slept on my side and I on “yours” well she actually slept in the divot in the middle pushing me to the edge.... typical. we cozied up and fell asleep only to be woken way too early by blackberry's alarm. damn church.... damn niece's and nephew’s and baptisms and birthdays. i drove her to the el and left her with a token and instructions to get to her train and off to her sunday.
i climbed back in bed. i felt like shit. first time in 17 years i had a hangover. 2 days later and i still don’t feel quite right. mostly i’m angry with myself. its been only recently where i’m finding myself insanely drunk by the end of the night. i used to be so good at gauging and checking and controlling. when did i lose myself?
the smell of sweat is still lingering in the air. not the good kind like at the convention. not sexy. not exhilarating. gross, sickly body odor. i need to take a shower. i need to wash off this monster clinging to my flesh. i need to regain control.
and i need to find my deodorant....
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