WEEKEND

Confusion...

Friday night-- she and I continued the drill, the retro-courtship. My tolerance for spirits ever-rising, we laid down together and squirmed in the warmth of our bodies touching. I was tipsy, so I felt no shame as I kissed her on the lips, my emotions unguarded and unchecked, unrestrained, unable to hold myself back, like I normally do, and she kissed me back, and then she put her hand on my mouth to calm me down, her way of saying yes but not now...

There was some slight reassurance, a certainty in knowing that she wanted it just as much, but I know that she is not ready, and Saturday morning I realized that neither am I, I'm still hiding behind booze to make declarations of my heart and soul, I'm still foisting it off on being out of my mind on drugs or on the bottle, instead of owning up to my feelings and going out on a limb and saying "Fuck it, I want you, and what's wrong with that?"

We fell asleep in each other's arms, but I had to get up and go into my own bed, I have problems sharing my sleeping space with others, I am so used to sleeping alone, and I toss and turn, and I snore, and it isn't fair to whomever shares my bed with me...

I went to practice, and one of the members wasn't there-- she had her reasons for not showing. Hung over and listless, the rehearsal took forever to get through, and my mind was not on the prize at all...

Saturday night-- an evening spent with married friends, drinking wine and playing board games to avoid the downpour of end-of-autumn rain, but first: a strange request from a friend of Ben, the rhytm guitarist from Deja Vu. I dropped off a copy of the animation to Ben, who works in Hollywood as a CGI artist when he's not rocking out, and his companion asked me if I would like to work on her upcoming project. I told her to call me. She was sounded like she was serious, but only time will tell...

The manager of the Lamplighter restaurant, a true weasel, acted snide until he realized that none of us posed any harm, and then he spent half an hour trying to atone for his predatory rudeness. I paid it all no mind.

Eve looked at me differently, she couldn't believe I'd been offered a job, she couldn't comprehend how things seemed to happen for me randomly, almost as if they were premeditated, pre-planned... then we made it to our married friends' home and stayed until the dawn. She drove me home, and she did not stay-- she had to be up early to attend to a family gathering.

But she was back Sunday evening, cooking me potatoes and curling up next to me, slinking beside me on the futon, competing with my cat for attention, falling asleep on me, and the emotions of the past weekend had me in near tears, trying my hardest to take it all in, to understand how torn I am between utter love and cautious intimacy... I seek not to hurt again, to hurt any longer... it's all up to her, she's the one who has just left a nine-year relationship with Mr. Wrong, she's the one who has to make the call, I'm just here being me, as I always am, as I always will be, the girls are always different but I am the same, always looking for the one that I let get away years ago, the one I will never find again, no matter how many substitutes I employ, no matter what I do or say, they are not her, none of them are ever her, no matter what books they have read or what songs they know by heart, I long for the one who left me when I was innocent and broken...

I don't want sex but I do, I don't want to care but I do, I don't want but I need, but I don't, but I do... one minute I want to live with Eve forever, the next minute I think of how I hurt her, and how all of the women that I surround myself with can never soothe my pain, they can only make my aches temporary, they can only be short-lived escape valves for me...

I, in turn, provide some form of escape for them: Eve can forget the bad bad world outside of her window and take solace in me, in the fact that Dick would never dare come up to me despite his murderous rage against me; others have come to me for many things-- protection, money (what little I have), books and ideas, or maybe just to keep them company... I oblige them all, for what would my life be without their validation?

I'm being torn in several different directions, all at the same time, and I tell you-- it's killing me slightly.

But sometimes it is a joyous killing, especially those moments when I throw caution to the wind and forget about my sense of repose, my coolness, my need to be stonefaced and emotion-free...

Help me, I'm drowning, it feels like my lungs are filling with water...