Last night was a night of running, searching for certain people around the city that I chouldn't quite track down. I'd arrive at a restaurant or bar just moments after they'd left or be seated having a conversation that I couldn't excuse myself from as they passed outside my window, cutting through the balmy New Orleans night.
I was at dinner with Mona when Ella walked passed. We'd spent the night wandering the city together a few nights before, but I hadn't asked for her number (I should have) as I was sure I'd see her around again. I walked Mona home after we finished our little bit of business and went back to where I might find Ella, but she was gone; she and her roomate had left moments before.
Every place I went I missed the person I was looking for, but found someone else instead. At Flanagans I found Ashley, who I'd been out with a few evenings before. She was entertaining a friend who was in from out of town, but we went to the next stop on my list together, keeping each other company until her friend had to catch a cab back to her hotel and I walked her home.
We stood outside of her gate for a little while she hid tears in the creases of her smile because she'd wanted something recently; really needed it to give her encouragement in this sity and it hadn't come through. I hugged her and told her everything would be alright before she slipped through the gate, stopping to right turned over garbage cans, but never looking back as she disappeared down the long driveway.
I went back to Flanagans, hoping Ella would be there, but she wasn't. Andy, one of the owners was though and I always enjoy conversations with him. I sipped on whiskey for a while before Jenny came in and I decided to call it a night. She asked me to walk her home and I did, listening to what was on her mind as we made our way the few blocks.
I'd circled the city on foot, looking for people that I knew were near, but I wasn't fast enough to find. I found others along the way, some of whom helped my search, others who slowed it. At the end of the night I hadn't found what I was looking for, but I had the feeling that when I did, it would be worth it.
I thought about the moratorium on speaking that S and I had set and as I lay in bed, I drafted a few letters one of which I was sure would be the final answer to that. I felt that at the end of it we wouldnt pick up where we'd left off; things wouldnt be better, they (we) would be further apart than ever. It made me sad to think about, but also realieved to consider having the tension over, the constant sadness past and to be able to slowly, surely, but life back in order. We'll be happier when we can both accept that it might not be possible for us to be friends right now. I'm not to that point just yet, but I see it there, in the distance.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
When it rains
When it rains in the afternoon, I open the tall windows in my office that lead out on to the balcony and keep them open to feel the cool air crawl inside, which is better than the artificial breeze, though sticky.
I sit at my desk and write distractedly, edit, reword and manage not to care about progress in what I'm writing as much as watching the encroaching drops as the wind carries them further inside, closer to my feet.
"You have a rain fetish", my friend Brian tells me.
"Admittedly", I reply, and after having lived in the desert for three years I'll make no attempt to hide how much I've missed the rain.
I sit at my desk and write distractedly, edit, reword and manage not to care about progress in what I'm writing as much as watching the encroaching drops as the wind carries them further inside, closer to my feet.
"You have a rain fetish", my friend Brian tells me.
"Admittedly", I reply, and after having lived in the desert for three years I'll make no attempt to hide how much I've missed the rain.
circling purgatory
I went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night. I dreamt of the present, conversations I'd had during the last few days, point's I'd have liked to have made. I thought of messages I'd sent to people (I checked my phone and I really hadn't). I slept though, which is a vast improvement.
It's been two day's since the last time we spoke; something of a record for us lately. I'm happier this way. I miss her of course, but the constant wondering what her motive was, why she's sweet one moment and then evil the next; it's too much. I left her, for good reason mind you, and started talking to me when she swore she changed. She hadn't changed though (If she was, it was subtle and for the worse). I have a strong feeling that her biggest motivation is to get me to take her back so she can reject me and feel better about herself. I'm half tempted to let her believe all of it, just so we can maybe move past this one day. I'd rather throw myself under the bus and get it over with then be dragged behind it for miles.
I suggested we not speak for a week after the way she treated me during our last conversation. She said I was a distraction and so I told her I wouldn't bother texting or calling her any more. I told her we should wait a week before we spoke again, and that was the last that either of us said. I have an ominous feeling it'll be the last thing we say to each other for a very long time; we'll stubbornly refuse to contact the other person until at last it's necessary and we've both moved on. When we do speak again, maybe hearts won't break in the same way. Perhaps we'll both have learned to stop circling purgatory and then we'll do what we are meant to do; move on.
It's been two day's since the last time we spoke; something of a record for us lately. I'm happier this way. I miss her of course, but the constant wondering what her motive was, why she's sweet one moment and then evil the next; it's too much. I left her, for good reason mind you, and started talking to me when she swore she changed. She hadn't changed though (If she was, it was subtle and for the worse). I have a strong feeling that her biggest motivation is to get me to take her back so she can reject me and feel better about herself. I'm half tempted to let her believe all of it, just so we can maybe move past this one day. I'd rather throw myself under the bus and get it over with then be dragged behind it for miles.
I suggested we not speak for a week after the way she treated me during our last conversation. She said I was a distraction and so I told her I wouldn't bother texting or calling her any more. I told her we should wait a week before we spoke again, and that was the last that either of us said. I have an ominous feeling it'll be the last thing we say to each other for a very long time; we'll stubbornly refuse to contact the other person until at last it's necessary and we've both moved on. When we do speak again, maybe hearts won't break in the same way. Perhaps we'll both have learned to stop circling purgatory and then we'll do what we are meant to do; move on.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Whisper of a thrill
I showed up at Jacks to see a bartender friend I'd been hoping to speak with, not so much to see the band. Angie (the bartender) wasn't working, so I stood at the bar, watching people as they sipped drinks and talked about which of the two bands they'd come to see.
I'd seen Elly around but hadn't ever even really made eye contact, so when I ended up being invited to join she and her friends and when we started talking, I was pleasantly surprised to find her quite engaging. When it was time to leave the bar, she took my hand in hers and lead me outside to where her friends had stopped just ahead of us and held on to it for a moment as they looked at our interlocked fingers somewhat incredulously. Her hand slipped from mine and we didn't take them up again; I could feel her fingers, even after they'd gone and I looked for the right moment to take them up again, but it never really seemed to come.
We wandered the city until late in the night, long after we'd walked her friends home and it was nice. She was nice. She's from my home state, so we had a lot to talk about. Her accent was thick, like it is in the far north and she cited Finnish heritage. We had one particularly hangout spot in common, so that's where we went. Friends of mine sat across the bar, wondering if I needed rescue or if they would be interrupting and truth be told, I wasn't entirely certain. There was something about her that made the situation pleasing, when with some others it might not have been so much.
We stopped for late night food and then I walked her home. She asked me if I wanted one more drink at Flanagans, but I politely declined; it was late and I wanted things to end while they were still in that magic hour and not after we'd overstayed a moment.
I didn't take her number; I should have. I'll see her around though and there is something thrilling about finding someone again, about the search; will I see her today? Will it be tomorrow? Will she smile as brightly as she did when she said goodnight? That's the thrill isn't it; whispering in my ear?
I'd seen Elly around but hadn't ever even really made eye contact, so when I ended up being invited to join she and her friends and when we started talking, I was pleasantly surprised to find her quite engaging. When it was time to leave the bar, she took my hand in hers and lead me outside to where her friends had stopped just ahead of us and held on to it for a moment as they looked at our interlocked fingers somewhat incredulously. Her hand slipped from mine and we didn't take them up again; I could feel her fingers, even after they'd gone and I looked for the right moment to take them up again, but it never really seemed to come.
We wandered the city until late in the night, long after we'd walked her friends home and it was nice. She was nice. She's from my home state, so we had a lot to talk about. Her accent was thick, like it is in the far north and she cited Finnish heritage. We had one particularly hangout spot in common, so that's where we went. Friends of mine sat across the bar, wondering if I needed rescue or if they would be interrupting and truth be told, I wasn't entirely certain. There was something about her that made the situation pleasing, when with some others it might not have been so much.
We stopped for late night food and then I walked her home. She asked me if I wanted one more drink at Flanagans, but I politely declined; it was late and I wanted things to end while they were still in that magic hour and not after we'd overstayed a moment.
I didn't take her number; I should have. I'll see her around though and there is something thrilling about finding someone again, about the search; will I see her today? Will it be tomorrow? Will she smile as brightly as she did when she said goodnight? That's the thrill isn't it; whispering in my ear?
Monday, October 5, 2009
nights like this
Coffee and gelato; a conversation with someone that I thought might be dismissive, but who is (trying to be) understanding that I work in adult entertainment. It isn't easy, I know. She comes to my apartment, takes the tour, runs her feet over the rug and say's "Yeah, I'll be over often;I'm going to make myself at home".
She's witty, charming, pretty; all the things you'd like in a girl. She's well dressed and articulate; the sort of girl that will make you hope she really is ok with what you do, even if you fear secretly that she won't be, that some day you'll go to do a shoot and something will change; something palpable that will make everything different from then on.
Still though, you laugh and eat your gelato. You smile when you walk her home, and you hope.
She's witty, charming, pretty; all the things you'd like in a girl. She's well dressed and articulate; the sort of girl that will make you hope she really is ok with what you do, even if you fear secretly that she won't be, that some day you'll go to do a shoot and something will change; something palpable that will make everything different from then on.
Still though, you laugh and eat your gelato. You smile when you walk her home, and you hope.
Coffee and gelato; a conversation with someone that I thought might be dismissive, but who is (trying to be ) understanding that I work in adult entertainment. It isn't easy, I know.
She comes to my apartment, takes the tour, runs her feet over the rug and say's "Yeah, I'll be over often;I'm going to make myself at home".
She's witty, charming
She comes to my apartment, takes the tour, runs her feet over the rug and say's "Yeah, I'll be over often;I'm going to make myself at home".
She's witty, charming
How soon is now
"Tell me if you want me to fuck off or tell me if you want me to hold your hand. Tell me if you want me near or far. Not eventually, not tomorrow or yesterday. How do you want me now?"
"All the above. This is still raw to me I'm at a different place then you."
"I can't be near and far, so if you can't decide, I'll choose far".
She doesn't want "far" she tells me. She doesn't want "near" She wants me close enough to push and pull me, have me at her disposal. I left, she say's, so that entitles her to act how she is, despite the fact I may have (did) good reason to have left.
She's swore to me, to others that things are different, cried that no one gives her a chance to prove it. So I do and instead of seeing something different, she just rails against me for having left. I give her the choices and she refuses to make them. I tell her that she can have whatever she wants, but she won't say what that is. She won't give me an answer that will give me the ability to exercise an option, because she wants me to be every bit as frozen as she is.
She knows that I don't like stationary bikes or treadmills, because you are running fast and you should be so far, but you aren't. She like's them though and wants to watch me peddle away.
"All the above. This is still raw to me I'm at a different place then you."
"I can't be near and far, so if you can't decide, I'll choose far".
She doesn't want "far" she tells me. She doesn't want "near" She wants me close enough to push and pull me, have me at her disposal. I left, she say's, so that entitles her to act how she is, despite the fact I may have (did) good reason to have left.
She's swore to me, to others that things are different, cried that no one gives her a chance to prove it. So I do and instead of seeing something different, she just rails against me for having left. I give her the choices and she refuses to make them. I tell her that she can have whatever she wants, but she won't say what that is. She won't give me an answer that will give me the ability to exercise an option, because she wants me to be every bit as frozen as she is.
She knows that I don't like stationary bikes or treadmills, because you are running fast and you should be so far, but you aren't. She like's them though and wants to watch me peddle away.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
open up the doors
I closed my eye's for a few moments last night before getting up for a photo shoot at 6am. I'd been out late, and this time around I was in front of the lens instead of behind it. It's for a band and we are being photographed for a local magazine because we are playing a local festival later this month. We carried our makeshift instruments far out into the industrial area and took photo's until we were rained on. We all stopped for coffee and then took a handful more photo's (this one was snapped on my phone) after the rain cleared and I've just made it home to a shower and hopefully bed.
The night didn't start as cheerful though. It's had it's discourse, all related to trying to be a good person, a good friend to my ex. She tends to do hurtful things, like tell me about the fun she's had fun doing something else and then making excuses why she doesn't have the time to talk to me. She's quick to call or send a message if she wants me to know what she's been up to, the adventures, the fun, or in need of advice but when it's my turn to talk, she's never there. I'd been trying to take a zen like approach to it all; never be bothered by her, by way of never expecting anything from her. Then I realized that just means that I've got a person occupying a large place in my heart, my head, my life that doesn't offer anything in return and so I decided to make room; open up the doors..
Saturday, October 3, 2009
the music to this montage is streaming in my head
Sitting in Stanley, finally having another meal I'd always meant to. I'm not a fan of breakfast, but banana's foster french toast seemed too good to never know. Looking through the windows out into Jackson square, seeing the tourists wander by while the waitress asks each new table where they are from. It's one of those "tourist in your own town" moments.
Driving down Prytania with the top down, the sunlight breaks through the branches of impossible oak tree's as I pass beneath them and I think to myself; "no matter where in the world I go, when I think back on New Orleans, this is what I'll think of".
Walking through the quarter and onward to Frenchman, past the large group of tours blocking the sidewalk, I hear make-believe or exaggerated history and my friend and I smile knowing the difference; the tour guide seems to know we know because she loses her pace as we pass.
Live music at a bar on Frenchman street. It's not the sort that I would choose to listen to typically, but it seems right, in the moment. I have drinks with an old friend, the man behind the bar used to work with us.
I have an amazing sandwich at a little restaurant around the corner from my doctors office. It's covered in hollandaise sauce and is undoubtedly bad for me, but it's delicious. It strikes me as a funny sort of thing to have next to a doctors office; like having a cigar shop next to an asthma specialist. It's good, but more than I can handle and I forget the rest of it after having carefully wrapped it to take with.
Laying in bed with the french doors open to the night sky. Flashes of lightening and the sound of rain falling gently (but I know there is a storm coming soon). I can't help but love this place and even if I did try not to, there would be some little reminder waiting to convince me that everything here is beautiful in it's own way.
All of these moments happened within two days. Each of them passed and were gone so quickly, but they make me think of a quote:
“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it”
Confucius
I'm determined to see it, but I've admittedly got some help. In a city like New Orleans I'd think that it would be a greater challenge to fail to see beauty than to see it; there's something beautiful everywhere.
Driving down Prytania with the top down, the sunlight breaks through the branches of impossible oak tree's as I pass beneath them and I think to myself; "no matter where in the world I go, when I think back on New Orleans, this is what I'll think of".
Walking through the quarter and onward to Frenchman, past the large group of tours blocking the sidewalk, I hear make-believe or exaggerated history and my friend and I smile knowing the difference; the tour guide seems to know we know because she loses her pace as we pass.
Live music at a bar on Frenchman street. It's not the sort that I would choose to listen to typically, but it seems right, in the moment. I have drinks with an old friend, the man behind the bar used to work with us.
I have an amazing sandwich at a little restaurant around the corner from my doctors office. It's covered in hollandaise sauce and is undoubtedly bad for me, but it's delicious. It strikes me as a funny sort of thing to have next to a doctors office; like having a cigar shop next to an asthma specialist. It's good, but more than I can handle and I forget the rest of it after having carefully wrapped it to take with.
Laying in bed with the french doors open to the night sky. Flashes of lightening and the sound of rain falling gently (but I know there is a storm coming soon). I can't help but love this place and even if I did try not to, there would be some little reminder waiting to convince me that everything here is beautiful in it's own way.
All of these moments happened within two days. Each of them passed and were gone so quickly, but they make me think of a quote:
“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it”
Confucius
I'm determined to see it, but I've admittedly got some help. In a city like New Orleans I'd think that it would be a greater challenge to fail to see beauty than to see it; there's something beautiful everywhere.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Things I never said
"I wake up in the morning and the first thing I think of is you. When I lay in bed at night, trying to fall asleep, it's you that I'm thinking of. I spend most of the hours between trying not to think of you too much and despite my considerable efforts, I still haven't figured out what it'll take for me to stop loving you."
We all have those things at the end of a relationship that we wish we would have said. Things that might not make a difference to you, but would to the person you said them to. Sometimes those things can be hurtful, but the things I never said that I'll regret the most are the ones that would have made her smile.
We all have those things at the end of a relationship that we wish we would have said. Things that might not make a difference to you, but would to the person you said them to. Sometimes those things can be hurtful, but the things I never said that I'll regret the most are the ones that would have made her smile.
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