I'm so weak. I have no will power.
I called her.
It was Bush's speech that drove me to it. Listening to his prattle here at the office drove me insane. I lost all of my nerve.
Even though his words were being translated into Spanish, the smirking double-meaning behind all of his claptrap clung to my skin, making it crawl upwards toward my temples.
Bush, in any language, is a goddamned sonofabitch.
I was doing so good. All day long I kept telling myself that I didn't care.
"I just don't care," I said, as I walked down the street to get something to eat, when the speech first started about an hour ago. "No, I don't want to talk to her."
After I ate, I thought about her. I called her up. She picked up.
She didn't go to work. She was too hung over from a night of binge drinking with friends. She struggled with the phone, fumbling it in her hands. I woke her out of a deep comatose state.
I'd like to think that her bender was over me, but I know better. She has worse problems in her life than the likes of me.
Still, it was great to hear her speak.
We talked about very little. We talked about nothing.
She said she'd call me tomorrow, but I'd be a fool to place money on that bet. Why get my hopes up?
I got my fix, that's all that matters. I was going through serious withdrawal.
None of you can understand this, can you? No, you can't. Even if you say you can, you really cannot.
I'm like Morrissey in that song, "Girlfriend In A Coma", fluctuating between anger and concern in the span of a verse.
"There were times when I could have 'murdered' her
But you know I would hate anything to happen to her
No I don't want to see her..."
And then the stinging sensation of aching in my chest seizes me up and I'm swirling inside my own head, fighting tears away like a soldier with his back to the wall, shaking my head to try and throw off the scent of despair, emptiness, heartbreak...
"There were times when I could have 'strangled' her
BUT YOU KNOW I WOULD HATE ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO HER
Would you please let me see her?"
Do you really think I'll pull through?
Do you really think I'll pull through?
Do you?
4 comments:
youre not weak. youre an idealist. proof of this truth lies in this very same entry: your politics. you have a keen sense of justice, and you tend to favor that over any competing notion of efficiency or reason. in short, youre a liberal, and i mean to attach no pejorative morality to that assessment. let it remain a given. now then, to get back to it: it is your idealism that compels you to think of her, and to wallow in the seeming unfairness of it all, because her actions run counter to your deepest wishes in life. and you, like morrissey, must resolve this internal conflict if any progress is to be made in life. there are only two choices: to remain an idealist, and risk disappointment and pain, or to abandon your wishes about how the world should work, and react accordingly. this is difficult for you, because it means letting go of that which you hold most dear.
heres the part where you say: "do you charge by the hour?"
also: ive been there. i know what its like to have your heart broken. all you can do is keep replaying the injustice in your mind, hoping that one more time might make the pain go away. but that shit doesnt work. it didnt work for morrissey. for all of his inconsistencies, one action remains certain: the smiths are not getting back together, because the rhythm section tried to fuck morrissey over in court, and won. morrissey may play the tortured romantic, the forlorn idealist, but you dont see him hanging out with mike joyce, do you? he knows when someone has crossed the line, and he adjusts his life accordingly. sure there were tons of medocre solo efforts as a result, but eventually he found a backing band he likes, things turn around, and bam: you are the quarry. so dont despair. let her go. strangeways here we come. viva hate. and eventually: i have forgiven jesus.
get it?
Your Anonymous poster before me was right on the money. You have no reason to feel weak. On the contrary, you should commend yourself for NOT allowing your feelings to remain squelched inside. You needed a fix. You needed to hear her voice. Nothing weak about needing someone and admitting that need, especially to yourself. So many of us have been in that situation, that place where you feel like you can't breathe for all the confusion and longing. But the fog lifts and the suffocation subsides. And you can hold your head high because, above all, you DO have a keen sense of justice. And you play things honestly and without relying on bullshit to propel you forward. Not many people can say that.
I've always felt strongly connected to "Girlfriend in a Coma," because fuck if we haven't ALL felt that way about some person at some point in our lives.
Good advice, all of you. My only point of contention is rather trivial: I thought the Smiths lawsuit was because Morrissey didn't want to pay Joyce and Andy Rourke for the music they played on the sound recordings. I mean, all the song compositions were Morrissey/Marr, but session players get paid more than Joyce and Rourke... and they were actual members of the band, for Mozz's sake!
Poor Andy Rourke: strung out on heroin and penniless; meanwhile, Mike Joyce hits up the convention circuit, where he gets up and plays the intro to "The Queen Is Dead" in front of thousands of Morrissey clones...
Not to take away from y'alls advice, though... thanks for the kind words.
Post a Comment