lost in the smog

I went to sleep last night excited about tonight because I was going to get to see one of my favorite people. See, two weeks ago I was inseparable with a woman. I mentioned her last in a post from last week. We split up and not for any reasons that ended the world. And then she traded me in for someone else, an old familiar figure, and as such we hadn't seen much of each other lately. Tonight was sort of scheduled and planned. But! The kick in the ass as I fall out of the plane...that early phone call to wake me up and say tonight won't work, seeing you won't work, we need more time, we need more space. We were not forbidden but restricted and I had to just understand the reasons why I might be a threat...(not a decent point but I took it all the same). And thus, I protested, because I don't need time and I don't need space. My understanding of our split had reached a point where I could have seen her as buddies, like we used to be, back when we first met backstage at Treasure Island. Or like the night we stayed up drinking late at the 3300 club, my third favorite club in San Francisco. (540 and then 500 and then 3300) And maybe even like election night. Platonic interactions are always a possibility but the timing is all off. No one has enough trust yet or at least no one that would matter, I'm not seeing anyone so I don't need to trust anyone but myself. It's another loss in a summer of losing but I can try and wait for a better time. I've known this woman a long time, we knew each other before we even met. All the pieces that long ago fell into place won't be cracked and dissolved by a few weeks apart. I got to be hopeful for that, heck, it wasn't long after we met that we were finishing each others sentences. I guess that happens with the best of friends, we were two people that lived the same life and dreamed the same dreams. So now I get to miss her and hope our time apart isn't much and that our time after that, close like the figurative peas in the ever fucking pod, is long.

something else i might have done in high school...write song lyrics on my binder

and, as before, the National...

good god, it's the National. Start a War. I never appreciated this song much until this week.


We expected something, something better than before. We expected something more
Do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave
Do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave
Walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

Start A War - The National

a relationship of command

When I was in high school, during the late 1990's, and I was feeling the way I feel right now, I'd maybe pass notes with a girl. The notes would be more like letters, first I'd write a paragraph and then they'd write a paragraph. At the end of the 100 minutes you'd have a neat document, my blue pen and maybe her pink pen and whoever had the note last would note-fold it and put it in their back pocket. High school was good for communication. When I turned 16 my dad got me my own telephone line in my room. When I met girls (usually at Wet n' Wild) I'd give them my own number. Sometimes I'd get real ambitious and leave someone a note in their locker. Times were good. Communication was easy. I barely knew anyone with a cell phone. Now I have to remember to turn my cell phone off before I go to sleep, at least my private cell, my work phone can barely leave my hip. I log into facebook at least three times a day, I follow multiple and sometimes redundant blogs, I even kind of use twitter. (Last night I might have tweeted about the various issues with having a bonfire in my back yard.) So yeah, I kind of wish I was back in high school today. Everything else would make sense.

ok. i'm contractually forbidden...

To offer anything much more about the other night. It was memorable. It involved a girl. Everything got quiet like it always used to and promises were made that won't be free to keep. And then a little later it all got loud again. Buzzing and banging, another Sunday morning. Cereal in bed, no banana, the same meager food in the same empty kitchen. The same wait at the door. Our clothes were the same, our bodies the same. It's that old line from Bill Carter...but I can't repeat it here. Hard and wet, as it were. Her and I, as it were. Now, remember, we weren't under some kind of magical spell and when I walked out the door I didn't turn into a pumpkin. No deals were made with the devil. Name a fucking cliche if you want and I'll tell you it didn't happen quite like that. And no, not like that as well.

where i slept last night, the sleepless way we wish

as nights go last night is going to be one of those nights i kick around in my head for years and years.

more to follow.

jealousy was the word of the night...so far at least

in that, some men care about and love a women long enough to never let go and no matter the distance between the last and most recent time they kissed that woman they still are jealous towards those who fell in between.

this was something new i learned today.

a few minutes more

This week has been long. To say the least. It started early Monday morning when one of my employee's sons called to tell me that his dad had passed away in his sleep. From there it hasn't gone anywhere great. With little to do at work today I've spent far more time then healthy staring at my gchat window waiting for the right names to appear. There has been nothing so far.

Nothing so far.

we're back live

After a nearly three month lay off I'm starting this blog again. Unlike the last time I'm going to be more direct about who and what I am writing about. At the very least you'll know if it's about you. Thanks for reading and carry on.

how far from hayes valley to my bedroom

This is about the woman that captured my heart and who was with me until Saturday morning. She is with someone new now, someone she used to be in love with and she says she might still love me. Even if she doesn't love me her body still knows the contours of mine in the middle of the night, her mouth would still kiss me the same as before and with the same flame. The distance between her leaving my bedroom and entering his is so small that this can almost be considered a straight trade, man B for man A. Her toothbrush is still in my bathroom and her little gray tank top is still in my closet. I've always believed people leave their energy and presence behind and cmc is still in my room and still echoing through my life. Some of her was left behind in my little room with me and my heart. It was all so fast, our split and his ascendance, back to where he always wanted to be and now the pieces of my broken relationship are falling where they may. I know where her and I were last week, just a week ago, kissing goodbye downtown and planning on planning for something, anything, together, we were almost always together. Sweet little texts and whispered words of affection and a longing for simplicity. I might be an afterthought now but I wasn't an afterthought then, I wasn't an afterthought when a kiss brought her to her knees. One week can change everything and one week from now everyone still might be uncertain, everyone might be recalling where they were today and trying to understand how things ended the way they did. Humans move faster then hearts. Love lingers and slowly burns, we can toss out the physical reminders but there is no quick reset button on the human heart. So I guess I hope the two of them sleep easily and find happiness, more then they did before and maybe this passion her and I shared, the passion that kept us wrapped so closely together, will slowly fade away into the cool, dark night.