Why? Why…? Not sure… I do think there’s wisdom in the last post though. Last night was the first time that I really missed you being around for dinner. I ended up with Tom and, well, he’s just not the same as you, for many reasons.
1) Grateful Dead – some of the songs are classics. If you think I am a fool, you are not listening. You are more afraid of being considered a “deadhead,” being part of that culture, than just plain disliking the music. Most people who claim not to like the music cannot name a single song even though they know 20, much less say why they don’t like it. We’re too old for this. Get over it. 2) Dirty Dancing – I was forced to watch it as a teenager by my, now dead, chorus teacher on days that she did not feel like teaching. Saw it again over the weekend and it’s a good movie. The main characters all show substantial growth. They are all sympathetic. And it’s a coming-of-age story: Jennifer Gray’s character has to deal with growing up and dealing with a world that she know nothing about. I prefer my coming of age stories to be about boys, as it is easier for me to identify with, but thankfully this one is not a male coming-of-age...
Don’t settle for the one that you run to when you are sad; find the one you run to when you are happy. Hopefully they are the same.
Not much of a neighborhood without you.
I went back to the “Anthology of American Folk Music” today, the one that Harry Smith did. I was listening through while at work getting ready for my “man club” meeting tonight: a listening party. I knew that day that you played the Carter Family’s “Single Girl, Married Girl” that I had heard it before, but couldn’t place where. Then on the 5th disc of the set, there it is. It took me back to not when I first got the “Anthology” but to when I was listening to it in your living room. I like the song so much, but I don’t feel that it’s appropriate for the man club, and furthermore I would have to explain why I included, something I am having to think too much about for all of the songs I am including. This one I don’t have to think as much about, but I don’t want to tell my reasons. I have to say some of the best times I have had with you have been in the last year. I miss all of the physical stuff and all of that, a lot, but I really enjoyed the way we got along during this time. The way we talked and things didn’t have to be as loaded with resentment and guilt. These songs remind me of the last year and I can just smile, and I could just cry. I’ll try the...
Did a simple thing like taking melatonin tonight. Have to work the early shift tomorrow and need to force myself to go to sleep. If I just think about you, toned, red t-shirt, floppy-haired, fighting sleep like a baby, longing for it – I can finally smile. I like tucking you into bed. I need to do the same for myself...
Don’t know why I spent time this weekend walking down the razor edge cliff of sorting and viewing digital photos. I filled up many compact flash cards with ones of you, I know now. I was worried I would fall off the ledge and go spiraling down. I should not look at the photos, at least not yet. But like a moth to a flame, I could not resist. Lo and behold though, I realized that it didn’t hurt like I thought it would. It’s almost as though the anticipation of the pain of a life without you was worse than the actuality of it. Not that it doesn’t hurt. I miss you immensely and still don’t want to think this is forever, but I knew I would be okay when I saw this one poorly-taken photo, and it made me laugh a little. You are smiling, Yo La Tengo shirt, latch-hook project in lap, blurry like big...
She said she liked patriotic marches, so he bought a sousaphone. They marched around the backyard, sometimes naked, she the drum major, he carrying on the bass line for a melody to be imagined. It could irritate the neighbors. He liked to drink while they played these games. She put up with it as long as the marches could continue. It was then that she decided that bluegrass was the new sensation. He grew a beard, wore overalls, bought a mandolin that would keep the neighbors up all night. Next it was jazz and the laborious move of a grand piano and the purchase of a used baritone saxophone. During this phase they entertained more. The neighbors, once their enemies, became newfound friends. Soon they started going to galleries and museums and she read artist biographies: Van Gogh, Gaudin, Picasso, Raushenberg, Warhol. They filled what was supposed to be the nursery, or so they thought when they bought the place, with canvasses. She took to drinking. Posing nude for him to paint her. Hours-long sessions would end with sex on the drop cloth. They talked of buying land, starting a commune. They didn’t see much of the neighbors during this period. When they did choose the be around others, it was always with the new friends in the city. One day she came home in a new car and a new business suit. She said that she had been thinking. It was time for him to grow up. She had let a place in the city, with a new Wall-Street type that she had met at the opening reception...
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When you are not with me, remember and keep me close. If you do not feel me, concentrate a little and I am there. There’s this song that I can’t stop listening to that makes 3/4 sense, and that’s good enough. It’s a divorce song, or a 3/4 divorce song for me. It says about 3/4 of what I feel about you. The truth, lies, heartbreak, and...
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