THERAPY

Let me state for the record: I do not want to get back together with Eve.

Still, when the inevitable begins-- she and I hanging out again --that's what everyone is going to think. And the eyes will roll, and the heads will shake, and it'll be "poor poor James" all over again.

Evidently, I'm not allowed to make the same types of errors of the heart that my friends and associates indulge in on repeated occasions. I have to listen to lectures on how pathetic I am for not getting over this... from people who were already divorced by their mid-twenties, or worse.

It is pathetic, don't get me wrong. But it's therapy.

It's how I deal with things. I have this tendency to try and be pragmatic, cutting my losses before they get too far out of hand. I don't want to go the whole distance for fear that other people will be inconvenienced.

For example: earlier on, I went to practice with a band known as Funkin Pie. They need a bass player. I met them through Mikey, the guitarist from Holly's band. He recommended me.

I showed up... and promptly locked my keys in my car.

The guys in the band spent an entire hour and a half trying to get them out without calling Triple A. I kept throwing in the towel, saying things like, "Guys, just give it a rest. Thanks for your help, but short of breaking the glass, they're in there real good."

They kept up. They wouldn't stop until my keys were liberated. I went inside and chatted with the guitarist, a big burly guy named Steve. When I walked back out again, they had gotten my passenger side window down by a whole inch.

My slender wrists came in handy-- I unlocked the door and voila! My keys were free.

Cool guys. Funky-ass players. Jason, the raspy-voiced singer, has a lot of personality. They liked my funk, and I hope to polish the funk up a bit, as time progresses.

They wouldn't give up, whereas I was ready to just skip the drama and get to work. I use creative work as an escape from my problems-- "We can deal with it later" seems to be my motto.

Of course, I was nervous and didn't want to waste this practice, seeing as it was our very first rehearsal. They didn't seem to care that the clock was ticking. Mellow dudes, mellow enough to make me look hyper and talkative by comparison.

So you see, sometimes I need to do things the hard way, or subject myself to the inherent awkwardness of reconnecting with an old girlfriend. It keeps me on my toes.

Eve deserves for me to rip her a new one, and blast her for the things she put me through. I know that she deserves as much.

But I'm not going to do that to her. If I did, I would never be satisfied with the way things ended. Later on, I know I would regret it. The one thing that I'm proud of is that I have always left off on good notes with former lovers. If things are in a bad way, I always find a way to balance them again, even if it takes a while.

I don't want to hurt her, because I never have, and probably never will.


**


I answered the phone, knowing it was her.

I found out that she is moving to Glendale at the end of the week, which is not very far from where I am in Burbank. She had been staying with her brother, who lives literally a mile away from me, and currently she is staying with her mother until the move is official.

She was nearby all the time that I have been in this new apartment.

I told her what Paulie, Peter and I were planning to do with the cartoon. I told her that, if she has the time, we would need animators and people to draw my designs repeatedly... people with skills. She said she'd do it.

I didn't talk much about myself or the past four years. I asked her about her job, the TV pilot she is working on, and painting. We talked about painting.

"I'm going to devote my 30s to visual art," I told her. "It's about time I owned up to what I can do with a pencil."

"I know... Hello? Earth to James-- you have talent..."

"Thank you."

"You always did. You have your own style."

"You're not too shabby yourself. Where can I see some of your latest doodles?"

"On the Dhampyr website. It's very calming, soothing, to draw. It helps me out."

"I agree. It's a quiet hobby."

So many useless things I wanted to say to her... A piece of music could describe my emotions far more successfully.

She said she would call me by the end of the week, after the move was done. I told her to stop by the Garage and she could see the cartoon for herself. I haven't talked to Paulie about her prospects, but he would be crazy to not enlist her: she'll work for cheap, put her all into it, and the work will be good.

I can tell that she is glad to hear from me, but doesn't know what to talk to me about. I have purposely shied away from asking personal questions, because that's what everyone does, and I like doing things my way. I have all the time in the world to ask her about this and that. That's the way I feel, at least.

She said "goodbye" to me and told me that she was late for her therapy session.

"I'm not in therapy because of you calling, by the way."

I wasn't sure if she was trying to be funny, or sincere, or both...

"I didn't think that. I think going to therapy is good."

Of course, I have never gone to therapy... and maybe that's what I should do. I have many, many issues. I have more issues than Hugh Hefner and Jann Wenner combined.

This right here, what you're reading: this is my therapy.

The music I played with Funkin Pie earlier? That's therapy also.

The animation project? Major therapy.

It's a broken world, and we all need a fix.