Washing Day

I sat in B cup cafe while rain started falling early in the morning after she had left, and got into a FB msg volley with Adam L. He was up so I drank down my Coffee #1 and met him at a cute little espresso bar a few blocks down.  It was Lester Young’s 100th birthday so the radio was playing pefect Jazz music. The macchiatos came forward presented like true art. 

We spoke about my life and my youthful energetic aspirations for myself. We spoke about love and how he waited 40 years for it, and she was taken away so soon. We spoke about connecting to the spirit and how this world isn’t all there is. We spoke about soul-mates, and soul-sisters, and friends who make this world worth living in. I wiped away two and a half tears off his cheek, and we walked out into the rain under my umbrella. He asked me how I know so much at my age. I told him that age isn’t everything. He proved that by liking my idea of devoting one room in a house to bumper cars. 

And later he wrote to me saying I’m rad. He’s radical with a capital R, a beautiful soul with a capital B, and once again I was lucky enough to move on from being in someone’s presence feeling uplifted and blessed.

Troubled Waters.

After the bridge walk I rushed over to see Meredith. She was getting ready for the past few days for the Emmy’s in LA. Apparently she mixed up her moving out date in her mind. It suddenly arrived a month earlier than expected and she had one day to find an apartment, find movers to move her while she’s in California, and get her apartment packed up. On my way I ran into Sarah, bought a sunflower, and some hard cider. We got to talk about her feelings of like, our thoughts and defense mechanisms for love, and what juices are worth what squeezes. I wish I could have done more, but I hope I gave her some sanity through a sense of calm, and we slept in a storytelling bed for one last night. (or should I say one last series of short moments). 

There is night, and there is morning. And somewhere in between, crisis is sidestepped, it dissolves, and everything becomes OK.

A Good Mystery

Yesterday was a perfect day. I woke up early like a little girl too excited for what the day would bring to sleep a decent amount of hours. I came to the city and walked from Port Authority to Williamsburg to Angelhouse. My mission was to help Amber out and catch up. The sweltering sweaty humidity didn’t even slow me down; and with my bitter attitude lately that was saying a lot. Angel house was covered in wooden boxes for Amber’s “Good Mystery” CD project. AKA Arts & Crafts. There was recording going on so we worked and chatted intermitently. It’s amazing how she thinks of all the details to go into her project to case the CDs. I crazy glued, I stamped, and (to me the coolest part) I waxed and sealed loads of packages. We got to catch up, and I came to quite a few realizations over the course of the day. A number of things went… shall we say… not wrong, but not so smoothly. And even still by the time show-time hit, I was no less than happy as a ham.

• I kept burning my fingers and messing up with the wax bit.
• The train got stuck in the tube (meaning I had to take a different train all the way into Queens to transfer my way back to the city).
• The downpour.
• The heavy state of the 500 CDs in that crummy weather, and having to hail a cab with my eyebrows.
• I fell TWICE on the same step skinning my knee during soundcheck. 
• We were putting the boxes together last minute right up until the openers started their set.

The way I’ve been lately (namely this summer), even just one of these things would have pushed me over the edge of keeping it cool. But there’s something about Amber. There’s something about her sincerity that makes me happy to toil with her. It was like we were two mad little girls in a frenzy getting it done. And it was wonderful.

When Amber’s set started, I was immediately thrown into a warm cozy realm of good feeling. I kept seeing people I missed. So many smiles. So many hugs. So many glances. And then the music began, and it was like someone took my heart out of wherever it was hiding down in my stomach for quite a number of weeks, and cradled it with lullabies. I was SO peacefully happy. And proud. 

The way people received her last night, reminded me of the way I have seen her received in other places. New Hampshire, California, etc. But I had never realized that New York can be that audience. It was like a captivating magnetic field with calming electrical currents keeping the focus so dead-set on her every note. Amber has improved so much since I’ve met her. She works so hard, she truly loves what she is doing, she is humble, and she possesses an emotional sensibility which ties her to her audiences and fans in a way I have never witnessed before. It is awe some. Literally. Overwhelming. I wasn’t the only one who got emotional and teared up. The aura in the room the entire time was one of repect and admiration. 

Turns out the show was sold out! There was an Oboe Trio who had opened, and joined Amber for a song. It was amazing. Their sound reminds me of being at a ballet (though I haven’t ever been to one!) and Austin and I were mock ballet dancing behind the curtain backstage. Ha. During the main set, there was a precious moment where I heard a little voice saying “Auntie Amber! Auntie Amber!” And I turned to see Amber’s brother carrying little Jade, who was holding a bundle of flowers. Wow. 

I used to love repeating what one of the reviews said about Amber “that you will leave with a crush on her.” But after last night, I almost feel like she has outgrown that word. It is something so much deeper than a crush. It is a kindred spell. A breath of life. And truly spectacular. 

Alternatively, maybe whatever it is “that thing” shouldn’t even be expressed. Maybe it can’t really be expressed. It might just be a Mystery. Oh, but boy, is it a good one.

Even in Death they Do Not Part

Rest In Peace Grandpa Sam. 1917-2009 is a blessed amount of time on this earth, but Grandma is still as in love with you as she was when she first saw you. She told me today that she was sorry that I didn’t get to say goodbye to you. And she told me that she hopes that one day when I get married I have as wonderful a marriage as she had with you. 

The cemetery is oddly beautiful and overwhelmingly full. There were even street signs in various areas of it. I was so worried while they were lowering you down that they’d mishandle the whole situation. I was holding Grandma up and my heart broke when I heard her saying “Don’t do that, don’t do that, don’t do that,” over and over in the most broken hushed voice as they lowered you into the earth. 

Grandma told me that even in your last few days when you knew nothing and noone at all, when you both lay in bed at night he still said “Debbie’la, are you doing alright? I love you. Sleep well.” This amazes me. This shows that true love can surpass any physical and mental limitations our bodies subject us to here. 

I am now learning about your life. I hope you find a way to keep Grandma at peace with the love between you. I know the phrase used in marriages is “Till death do us part,” but you and Grandma have a love that lives undeniably past just this life. And she needs to feel it for her time left remaining on this earth without you.

Dear Death,

You have overstayed your welcome.

I am definitely learning a lot of lessons from you, and in a way it’s ‘nice’ to meet you.

But seriously, this is getting a little too much, a little too fast.

I need some recess. 

Respectfully,

Max

What a Day….What a Life

What a day to be alive.

What a day to stretch out and appreciate not being confined underneath the earth without air. 

What a day to feel. 

What a beautiful Day. In fact…

What a beautiful day to face death. To have to face death. 

What a day for him to be gone with the wind.

What a day to see my big sister look like a little dolly, with her long hair clasped prettily half up in a barret, reaching her small frame up to hug my little brother. Cloaked in grief. 

What a day to finally see a little glimpse of what a man my brother in law really is.

What a day to feel such tense air all around me. 

What a day to escort a van with a casket with a body without life down a sunny road. 

What a day to waive goodbye. 

What a day to realize how little we knew about his life while he was alive. 

What a day for a Salute to a Country Parade.

What a day for a 100th year celebration for a bridge.

What a day for unstoppable tears. 

What a day for one man’s ex-wife to cling to  his new widow, both crying over his new lifelessness. 

What a day to realize that if my father was her stepfather while our mother was married to him…Well then.

What a day to realize that I had a Stepdaddy. 

What a day to realize that. On the day he is not any longer. 

What a Day. What a Life.

These Little Photographs

…The previous few posts of writing are slightly incoherent, poetic ones. I seem to think that these little photographs taken on my blackberry during the adventure compliment those posts. It is a neat way to wrap up the slightly too artsy to some way of documenting what I’ve been doing. And now I can go on to proper story telling and quality photos…

love In.

Love is pain. But the lack of it is excruciating. I am an expert in it, but have never experienced it. I am teased by tales and hand out advice and watch as love’s threads are woven in and out of all around me. This woven cloak of passion and despair is one I observe while I wait on the outskirts. Shivering and Alone.

Eerie-tales

My life is an open book, and I did make that decision to fill it up with tales of wonderful life experience. However, sometimes I wonder how the plot lines turn up three degrees away from the foreshadowed themes. I am also very susceptible to the the power of suggestion; even and especially it’s self imposed. I can convince myself of almost anything and sometimes that means opinion-whiplash in hindsight. All of a sudden I see how those compliments were really not just comfort compliments. There is a lot more to them, and that makes me Bug. She thought I was her because I really like him.

Twisted & Twister

I don’t like thinking that everything happens for a reason. The neatly tied up box with a ribbon at the top form of life events is not something that makes a lot of cameos in my life. I asked one hundred times when the last night I could be here was, and I had a clean response of Saturday night. But then she decided to move the break the wall and take out the furniture day to 7 a.m. on Friday. 7 a.m. might have been forgivable somehow if I had not already nodded to houseguests. More people have air mattresses than I would have thought. And I lugged them in the monsoon downpours to the winery for them. (people are sometimes awesome- I’m starting to think these sort of people are what the word friend was intended for). 

The assholes decided to book hotel rooms instead. Rosi and I headed to a diner for an all american grilled cheese sandwich cut in triangles and all just like middle school. This was after she recorded in an all american superstar studio. ‘”I went down on him,” she said.’ and “Let’s go find some assholes.” were just two of the funny things she came up with that evening. 

See, assholes or not we both had anxiety at the same time for our boys in the sky. Our fears and mindsets are constantly colliding. It’s great stuff. 

So we went to find the boys in the west village for some drinks. Because no-one really is sober. And we got to laugh and try on different hats for a while. She kissed him and he kissed me and geometrical shapes are starting to encroach on our lives in the oddest forms.

1st Aid

Drama Drama Drama.

It follows me everywhere, though when I step back and sip tea I realize I’m decidedly alone as soon as I walk away from all the action in the Drama I encounter outside. The winery is only three months old, and the crew of employees are even younger in the sense of our knowing each-other, and yet people have already left, people have already been fired, and more than one pair have slept together. So it seems that wine and cheese or wine and music are not the only thing fated to be drawn together inside the 25,000 square feet one block north of Soho. I work hard in general in life. I am aware of problems in situations and with people, and rush to their Aid First. But in romance I think of, but don’t Act. And I think too late, at that. But maybe it’s my blessing in disguise. Instead of getting wrapped up in situations, I get to marvel at everyone else’s, be their conscious, be their guide, help write the Script, play a supporting Role. And walk home alone, out of the Scene before some haunted Director shouts out ‘Cut!’ But right here in this moment of reflection of past and present, I wish I was the one walking the tightrope, even with the fear of the fall, because then at least my aches and pains would be for me, myself, and I. And perhaps someone would even come to my aid.

Once…Stars & Stipe…REM with very little Sleep

I can’t believe I gave him my clock in/clock out time stub instead of the piece of yellow notebook paper torn out with Max the Girl and my phone number scribbled on it. I realized so this morning when I found my own number in my pocket. Jeez. Of course. I always get it 3/4 percent. But he did say we had an instant attraction and that he wants to see me again…so after Jimmy Fallon today maybe he’ll show up. Because after all, our tidbits of drunken chatting were really intriguing and fun even amongst the drunk after party with all the Stars. And Stipe. Haha. I think I’m funny. Bess and Allie and Chris were there and it was so nice to have a bit of Home at Work. Ingrid thinks I’m tiny and I saved her jacket from the barrel room so maybe tonight she will remember me. Josh showed up for Rachel and it was awesome to see him but it was like a pleasant ghost from my past that I wish would become part of my friendly present. Who knows maybe with the teasing blasts of spring air, all those folks will come back into my life for another summer fling? But I’m happy to say I’m happy right now. I told Michael that it made moments like that worth bringing up the Baby. The winery is just 2.5 months old, and already kinks are being worked out, and he is getting thank you’d by the Lucky Ones. Mim & Jakey are married for 2 months. We shared orgasmic wine and chocolate and spoke to Frank about his roasted pumpkin seeds. I love them. They are family. Today I’m grateful for last night, I’m hanging on hungover with ten fingers and ten toes to all the faces and all the fun. And I hope four o clock a.m. shuteye didn’t close the book on the poor fellow left with my hostess hours.

Still friends…of a different Genre

When I met you on the ancient city wall steps I’d never have imagined I’d actually catch you. Your smile made my heart do flip flops. We exchanged numbers and you were in my phone as Hot Matt. A few months later we slow danced to no music in the hotel lobby at the conference when everyone else was long asleep.  A few more months later, I got on that train to Syosset to see you just because I knew you were in the same state as me; it was one of the most spontaneous daring things I could have done that day. You picked me up in the pouring rain and the ride to the house was full of noisy questioning thoughts rattling my mind. And then we walked inside and within three minutes there was a loud boom and all the electricity for miles went out. It was like a message from fate telling us to do something. We experienced what should have been a scene out of a movie, and I will always have it in my favorites collection. We met again when you came on a business meeting and we spent another cinematic number of hours in that hotel. And that was all. We have a magnetic connection, and now you’re moving on and have chosen to make her your wife. I admire you for being able to put your foot down and do this with your life. Thanks for showing me all that. And you’re definitely welcome for memories you’ve now told me you’ll never forget. The end.

The Curious Case of Amber’s Buttons

The way I see it is that there is a dark dark world. Dark as the darkest night, and it’s so cold there that the thought of being warm is incomprehensible. But in the midst of this frigidness, there is a beam of light, and twinkles of sound emanating from a single small house in downtown Boston. Music is being created in the basement, by a group of people who don’t even know each-other’s names or stories. I found peace there, with Amber and her friends. New Hampshire was one of those states which I had never thought about – it almost just got dissolved in my brain in the clump of states ‘up over there.’ But it is gorgeous. Londonberry is really Londonderry. But it is a blueberry, cranberry, and raspberry concoction; slightly tart, with a british accent. Love old, old houses. Love wine cellars. Love music. Love real people. Loved the Journey. 

Here’s to keep finding and fixing loose buttons. Or Life’s screws. And such. And more, and more, and more…

Unposed without Poise

I want to take a Roadtrip. I want to take a Flight. I’m up for practically anything to escape from my ‘real’ life. I recall when I was younger looking through those thick autumn catalogues full of perfect looking families in perfect looking clothes drinking perfect looking hot cocoa. That was the extent of me longing for any sort of “I do” and family life of my own. I never fantasized about diamonds and wedding gowns like most little girls. All I’d imagine about my perfect “settled down” world is that stable peaceful setting in the snow presented in those perfect looking photos. There is still a small part of me holding on to that nostalgic longing. Of Home. But we all know they were just posed. So I’m so unsure of how to grasp and handle the next bit of my life….so I’m wishing to escape it. Just for a little while. Or maybe even longer. 

Laws of Attraction

Is that really true? Is the feeling of attraction always somewhat mutual? I kind of hope so. But it seems too good to be true. But I suppose it’s not too good to be true if it’s true only to some extent. Because if the extent does not lead to any follow through of the feelings, then it remains just a mysterious moment of magnetic inclination and then dismissed. Without pursuit. The only problem is if one of the attracted lets that attraction linger on their consciousness. Then it can even become slightly tragic.

D-Listed

Truth is more fascinating than fiction. It’s more warped, twisted, and astonishingly orchestrated than a horror’s symphony or a nightmare’s plot. But now that we’ve all woken from this bad dream, things seem even more surreal. I may not have been involved, but I sure was taken for a ride. I hate rides that make me queasy, and I had to let the cat out of the bag. Manipulating everyone against each other is the darkest art, and I told you I’d protect her and she better not get hurt. You had me convinced you cared. You said you cared, but so do I care- about strangers who fall on the street. That isn’t enough to call it love. Don’t tell her you love her and ask the other her to marry you. You had your cake and ate it too. But it was poisonous, and I think you see now that dishonesty can’t go on forever, so ironically, in a way I saved you too. Because even the biggest monster must find all those Lies a torturous weight; incredibly heavy on his shoulders. But now you are the hated one, Sir, and your two sweet puppets have surfaced out of murky waters, and are real live girls again. And even better they’re friends. 

Physical Therapy

So my body is apparently in some sort of race against the sun in the mornings, and it woke me before dawn.

Normally this would piss me off exceedingly, but yesterday brought about some physical therapy which has been keeping me in a wonderful mood ever since. The therapy was in the form of a hookup. I don’t get it. He’s the only guy I’ve consistently liked since high school. I met him in tenth grade at Liz’ house where we had a heated game of monopoly, and I don’t even like monopoly. I hate board games. I remember seeing him walk into the backyard and as soon as I saw him, it was a crush. In freshman year of college we finally hooked up. The way that happened was a late night phone-call, which led to me getting in a late night cab down to his dorm. I was the one taking charge, he didn’t know any tricks, and still I thought he was magnificent. We are an unlikely team. He is preppy, snobby, suit-wearing rich boy. I am a free loving, carefree, imagination, music, & romance driven middle class girl. And therefore, in my mind, in his mind, I was just an adventure. It’s almost like those English literature themes where his family & friends would never approve. But something has kept us consistently speaking and periodically hooking up. The one thing that had kept my feelings at bay was that he’s not as experienced. But last night he took that off the con list, and there are only pros. His new flat on St. Marks is all empty, freshly painted, with a beautiful brick wall, and calming murmurs of people speaking outside. It felt like a movie scene somewhere in Europe as the sun went down & we came back from happy hour…and He has definitely learned new tricks.

My feelings are fresh ‘not at bay.’ And now I’m left wondering…what if, just maybe, we possibly liked each other?? 

www.urbandictionary.com

max 12 up, 4 down
“Max”
Origin: Latin
Meaning: Diminutive of Maximilian: Greatest.
Commonly used with the word “Lightning”
Origin: Welsh
Meaning: lionlike; lightning
True to thier name all Max’s are Trustworthy. Attractive. Great kisser’s. One of a kind, Proud of themselves in whatever they do. Messy, and unorganized. Procrastinators. Great lovers, when their not sleeping. Extreme thinkers. Loves their pets usually more then their familiy. Can be VERY irritating to others when they try to explain or tell a story. Unpredictable. Will exceed your expectations. Not a Fighter, But will Knock your lights out.
” Max Lightnig….. “

History Repeating: For Better

When I let my thoughts drift back and and float from crushes and ‘loves’ starting from the very first one I’ve ever had, it’s hilarious, nostalgic, and oddly comforting. It is a fact and common belief that there is nothing like the first love. That first feeling of thinking that guy is the be all and end all of what my heart beats for. The innocent certainty that I can spend the rest of my life with him. But I was just ten years old. And though I never believed there would be anyone else to make my stomach drop like that when he walked into the room, the procession of life knew better, and proved me wrong. And when the next lad came into my life I thought the same thing, the feelings were so intense and I saw not how my life could go on if he was not half of it.

 

over and over

But I’m sure that many can relate to this recurring reality of such authentic passionate feelings. And in a way each time we have those feelings that there will never again be someone we’d fall for like that, it is true. Each person that we come across in this fashion in our lives will always hold a unique part of our heart. Because each period in our lives, we are a different version of ourselves, and perhaps each version has the capacity to love someone else.

So we mustn’t lose hope when hurt shows its face and we feel that our heart is broken in two or more pieces, because that just means we are alive and feeling. And so long as we are alive and feeling, time truly heals, and with that renewal comes every possibility and probability of new, better, love.  And now I’ll retrace every time I’ve used the word ‘love’ and contradict it.

Because the point of it all- the journey of falling in ‘love’- is that those loves are a different form of love than we hope to have in our future. Because though history repeats itself and love reappears in different forms and intensities, hopefully it just keeps getting Better. Until it’s entirely Real. For Life.

A-Muse-D

Why is it that I need to force expressing myself to certain people to try and build a connection when there are people out there who think the same way I do? And please know that I am not in the least bit bitter, rather amused (haha I’m also a muse to some) by it. I guess the problem is that people who realize I get them use me for advice and take that advice and use it to get the people who don’t get them. This is why they say love makes the world go round. Because people are moving forcefully forward in attempt to get their dream and vision of love they want, they move forward away from what may be rational, and chase their fairy tale. Everyone is doing so, everyone is chasing something, and this makes the world actually move around. Pretty cool & sick all at the same time, aye?

Shit & Giggles

People fall into our lives when we least expect it. That’s why on Myspace, even a bunch of years ago, when I first created my profile, before it was so full of garbage, and when it was still all about the music…I answered the bit of ‘who I would like to meet’ by saying “Usually the most interesting and important people that you come across, are the ones you had no intention of meeting in the first place…” I still believe in my own words, because life keeps proving them to me. You don’t expect to adore the person your friend cheats on your other friend with. But we have so much in common and and there are so many sides to each persons’ story. Nothing is black and white, and it is all colorful and quite an intricate 3-D, and possibly 4-D display. If you focus on all the light and shadows,  you start to notice  things which you had never seen before. So yes, I’ve shared a PBR, a tequila shot, a pomegranate martini, quite a few vodka and lime’s, and a wonderful beer called Ayinger Brau Weisse with her. And lots of intelligent conversation. And I keep meeting more friends, for she surrounds herself with some of the greatest people. And I hope to keep on doing so. So, Cheers!

A Twisted Game of Twister

When I was younger my Mum and ten and a half year older than me sister used to call me tall and lanky. When we were dressing up as The Wizard of Oz cast one year as a family, they even wanted me to be the scarecrow because of my long legs and arms. This memory disregards the fact that I am considered a kind of tiny girl and on the short side now, and I sometimes still think of myself with that long reed-like sort of image. But that doesn’t help me when I am being pulled in all directions. I am stuck in the middle and I try and see both sides and be optimistic from all angles. I see the anger. I see the hurt. I see the cruel. I see the apathy. I see the ignorance. And I see the blindness. It’s hard to be everybody’s friend when something crumbles. It’s like a really huge game of Twister- Everyone is intertwined and the game was fun and comforting even in it’s awkward twistedness. But now some people have fallen in their place, right down. Right on those colored dots, and everyone mingled in is being pulled down along with them. Who knows what will be left standing and positioned properly after all this? I certainly don’t know. Not even the tallest, lanky-est, scarecrow-like human could stretch all over and everywhere with ease.  

Storms Brewing

There is something about heavy rain.

And thunder.

And lightening.

And Summer Storms.

Which evokes the most intense feeling of Life in me. It’s like a thrill which bursts a hidden bit of happiness inside of me and makes me remember how I used to hope and believe with the most optimistic faith that things would be a certain way for me in Love. When I heard those lyrics about two people who feel so entirely in love and know each other to the point that they have no inhibitions, and are one hundred percent content together.People now don’t even realize how far they take all the façade and role playing- they don’t even know who they are, and simply cannot be themselves- even with the greatest effort. And I know I could never be happy that way. So I know now that I’m done with all that. It’s ironic that playing an act is so much easier than being one’s self, but I am determined to do whatever it takes to be me. Because I know I used to believe I would find that certain kind of love. That kind which only lends itself to deep truth, mutual understanding, and freedom. And when I was driving down the dark twisty highway and the only light around me was the sporadic jolts of brilliant blue lightning, and the only sound behind my music was rain crashing down and claps of thunder…

That feeling of hope that I can still find it came rushing back to Life.

Sex and The Beast

Sex and The City may be all the rage right now, but I have not seen it yet, and I have just seen Beauty and the Beast from start to finish (literally!) and I gotta say the magic lives on. It’s brilliant and captivating and never gets old. Maybe this is an aging lesson for us all. If you’re that good you can age and age and never get ‘old.’ But aside from that, it contains the same sort of relationship wit as any profound movie of today. “Flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep.” – those are the words of Clogsworth to the Beast when the Beast is brainstorming what special thing to give to Belle. This VHS viewing being after seeing a display of pink boxed Lindt chocolates as part of a Sex and The City arrangement in Borders. And I thought.
Some things never change…

Dangerous Beauty

I want to be the Keys and Strings* to Passion, Seduction, Betrayal, & A Scandalous Love Story.

With a glass of red next to me. That way I won’t have to get involved, and my emotions are not in danger, but at least I can play a part in all the drama. I would have an intimate role in Love without getting hurt by it.

Sounds just about right.  Maybe.

*read: piano & violin

Guilty Pleasure

{muttering to herself:}

“Stupid corny idiotic…I cannot believe I did this…Stupid loser son of a…I could be at home instead of..ugh…Stupid brain man.”

{to him:}

Where have you been?

I’ve been waiting and waiting for you and I did this stupid embarrassing, humiliating, corny thing.

And I was just going to tell you that this over here is our kitchen

And this is our living room and over there, that’s the room where our kids could play.

I had this whole thing about how I was gonna build us a house.

But I don’t build houses, because I’m a surgeon.

And now I’m here feeling like a lame ass loser.

I got all whole and healed.

And you don’t show up

And now its all ruined cuz you took so long to come home.

And I couldn’t even find that bottle of champagne…

{her to him after his bit:}

I’m still mad at you and I don’t know if I trust you.

I want to trust you but I don’t know if I do so I’m just gonna try.

I’m gonna try and trust you because I believe that we can be extraordinary together.

Rather than ordinary apart.

And I want to be with you.

 I kind of hate myself for loving this, but I can’t help it. 

 

 

Hyperballad

The first time I met you, all I met was the sound of your voice.Ironically, the source of our introduction was ‘the doc’, who at the time was the one I had my musician crush on. Although, when you’re studying abroad and everything is a million times more dramatic across the ocean, who really knows how strong the crush was.But it felt strong enough at that time so that when he presented me with a mix cd upon his visit, I was in heaven. Whatever the mix possessed, was about to be my idea of sheer bliss to my ears. And it was. And that’s how you began your infatuatuatory existance in my brain. Don’t get me wrong, it was not your song that I loved, it was your place in a setting which I loved. But that is how it all started.When I met you in person you were just a tall, hippy, messy-haired musician. Pathetic with your manager in the back of the room, waiting your turn to try and dazzle a crowd which was there for my boys, not even to hear you. But I must admit you displayed talent, and I even felt a nagging bit of anger when people spoke through your set. I introduced myself, and our virtual friendship grew on Myspace. Your manager and you would try and lure me out to your little shows. I played the flaky card for months and months. And one day I actually listened to what you had on your profile page, and fell hard&fast for one song. Little Demons. It was the tune that enticed me to actually show up to one show at Rockwood after your manager soothed my fear about getting carded and humiliated. You played the piano gloriously, and then.                                                                                                                         You had me infatuated.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Enraptured.And I loved watching you sing.I can’t stand infatuation, because it took all your weakness as a musician striving for fans and buzz, and turned it to power over the silly girl I am. Causing me to babble and giggle and be desperate to see all your shows. And I did, didn’t I? I came out, said words of utter encouragement to you. Let you sweet-talk me, tell me I’m right, and tell me things you said were personal. You even promised me you’d never turn into one of them. One of those people who make it, and leave all their loyal friends in the dust, because their head gets too fucking huge.Your head has gotten too fucking huge. You have forgotten what this is about. The essence of your art has been tainted. I can’t deny my love for your music, and the beauty of your talent. But the part that matters has evaporated. The songs don’t move me the same way. And when you got on that plane to London, you distanced a sincere one. Just Don’t lose yourself completely. Because you really used to hate loneliness.