Get Your Shit Together

Meet on the Ave.  She wants to go to some Korean place that’s now a teriyaki place..

“How was your weekend?

As food comes…

“So…”

“…”

“We’re probably going to have a talk, yeah?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Let’s eat a bit more first.”

“Ok.”

“So when was the last time you saw your dad?”

Later..

“Feels like about time for a talk.”

“Yeah..”

“Well, one of us should probably ask a question.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“…”

“…”

“So.. it seems like we’re after different things.”  (not a question, I know)

“Hmm, pretty much.”

Later…

“So like, we have the chemistry right.  The chat, the banter, it’s all there.  And I really love making out with you.”

“There’s that.”

“But it seems like–”

“Oh, just help yourself.”

“Sorry, I know I have beef on my plate, but yours looks good.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to eat all this.  There’s probably a different spice on it.  I think it’s different beef.”

“No, it’s the same.  But if you don’t mind..”

“No, help yourself.”

“Ok, so yeah.  It seems like the basics are there, but I don’t really see a routine happening.  I’m trying to fit you into my life, and to be honest it doesn’t really seem like there’s place for me in yours.”

“You know, my friends all think I’m desperate for a boyfriend.  But really, I’m content– well, happy being alone.  That’s not the right word.”

“No I got you.  But at this point right, like, it’s so easy to break it off.  For me, I just want to go into things full-force and let them run their course.  And if you sleep together, and it doesn’t work out, so what?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.  I just don’t want to just have it happen.. and not mean it.”

“Well hey, it’s your journey.”

Later..

“So, call me old-fashioned, but I think dating should be something where you really get to know someone before you sleep with them.”

“See, that’s not dating.  That’s courting.”

“Well, ok.  But I just don’t want to fall into sex, because I’ve done that before.  I want to..”

“Choose it?”

“Yeah.”

“See, but I don’t get how you’re supposed to know.  See like, by the first–second date/whatever, I pretty much know if I want to sleep with someone.”

“See I know on the first date if I don’t want to.”

“Well, sure, DON’T want to.  But how are you supposed to know if you do?  And that’s why I don’t really understand courting, because you’re developing the platonic-friends-sorta-side but forcing the physical side not to happen.  See, I won’t know if I really like someone until AFTER I sleep with them.”

Later…

“So, we don’t need to be friends or anything, right?  I hate it when people say that.”

“Oh sure.  Like maybe if I see you at a show, then I’ll say hi.”

“And Facebook too.  We can maybe post on each other’s walls occasionally.”

“Sure.  I’ll leave you a note on February 22nd.”

“And I’ll leave you one whenever Facebook tells me when your birthday is.”

Later..

“So, what do you want to do?  I think I might still try going to Buffalo Exchange.”

“Yeah.. well, I haven’t been home yet and need to go.”

“Mmm, yeah ok.  So.. we should probably get going.  Should we hug or something?  Not one of those creepy side hugs.”

“Nah, we can do a regular hug, just not let our crotches touch.”

“That sounds ok.”

“I take it you don’t want your teabag?”

“Nah, help yourself..”

Et cetera.

Et cetera.

Friday – Sometimes you reach a point where your solution to the problem at hand has become so complex you can no longer wrap your head around it.  The solution is always to take a deep breath, review your encapsulation, refactor, and simplify your interface.

“Well, no, not exactly.  It’s a complicated case, Maude.   Lotta ins.   Lotta outs.  And a lotta strands to keep in my head, man.  Lotta strands in old Duder’s–”

Shot pool with new officemate J – he’s good but inconsistent, and we were almost perfectly matched.

Had a massage from a powerfully-built Swedish woman.  Came out feeling like an old man.  Sure is nice to be able to roll my neck around and not hear a lot of pops and clicks, though..

Rounded up a poker table for Friday night.  D gave me a ride up to R’s place, where J and the other R were waiting.  B and his friend P came by.  I had a feeling it was going to come down to me and D in the end, not to sound cocky, but because we were the only two playing actual poker.  And low and behold we did, and I walked about 30 bucks richer.  Nice.  D stopped in after we got back to the hill for a beer and a blunt.  Smart kid.

Saturday I helped my mom and Jay move.  Their new house is in Magnolia, so hmmm…  Very 50’s, but then again so was Mum’s last house before they re-everything’ed everything.  Certainly a nice piece of land in a nice neighborhood.  Good view, good floors.  Greek for dinner.  I still don’t get lamb.  Mum and I went for coffee and chocolates afterwards, which was nice.  Came home and stayed home, instead of getting shitty drunk as planned.

Today, I slept until noon, but I was having such a wonderful dream I stayed back for a while longer, well worth it.  Was supposed to see J for an evening date tonight, but she came back late and tired, which I foresaw and understand.  Can’t shake the suspicion that she is going to end it soon, though.  Probably just paranoia..  and I had just come up with a good nickname.

Watching “Role Models” and eating a manly dinner:

Real men make their own potato chips.

K’s music school recital was today.  Each of the nine students in K’s Songwriting class wrote two songs each, and helped each other perform them in every sort of arrangement.  To wit:

• Lots of girl-with-amazing-voice-singing-and-playing-piano songs.
• Two piano-guitar-drums-singer rock groups.
• One fellow played a koto he’d tuned all wacky, while the teacher sang with him.
• The inimitable Trevor Lee Ridge (of our brother band IMUR) rocked it several times on guitar, then once again on piano.
• Some dude I didn’t know was clearly very talented with a Stratocaster.
• And my personal favorite Mary Lambert, who has the most goddamn sexy voice I’ve ever heard.  Kept giving me the goosebumps it was so good.

J and I played with K – we were the only outside musicians.  We played two songs K had written for piano in his Songwriting class this semester.  I played bass on one, and guitar on a very-new song we’d only played once together – and that was at a show.  Sounded good though.  Anyways.

I noticed a lot of shaky hands on stage.  Like, not just a little sweaty-palms tremble, but full-on Total Panic hand convulsions.  Yet, as soon as said hands touched key or string they managed to produce utter magic.  Stay in music school, kids.

And damn, there was not a single unattractive person there.  I wish I had majored in something sexier.  Sure would have gone to class more often.

I like white beers, which are ales spiced with coriander and orange peel.  Sunshine is perhaps my favorite all-around beer.  J got me drinking Red Hook ESB.  Sometimes I like Beck’s.  I have no problem drinking PBR. Foster’s is the apple juice of beers, and gives one a great excuse to talk with a bad Australian accent.  About all I don’t like are the super-proofy ales like Arrogant Bastard.  Doesn’t mean I won’t drink it though.

Official pre-show shot of The In & Outers.  I don’t advocate being drunk on stage – no one wants to hear you flub notes because you drank too much and now your fingers are fat, useless sausages – but, it’s hard to look cool bone-sober in a room full of drunk people.  Tequila is fast, effective, sufficiently-ritualized, and will also help you maintain a useful attitude towards the authorities.

How convenient that my favorite bourbon is also cheap and universally available.  Sometimes they have Gentleman Jack, which tastes the same but is much smoother.  Best enjoyed with a single icecube and smugness.

Whiskey Sours are cheap and make all bourbons taste exactly same.  Just don’t get it with a maraschino cherry, or alternately eat the cherry before anyone notices.

Now, I’m not trying to set myself up like some heavy-drinking manly man.  I just want to get drunk enough to talk to girls, and possibly later get drunk enough to yell at passing cars, because damnit I spend all week being smart.  When Saturday rolls around, I want to be an idiot.

How else am I supposed to feel a deep brotherly kinship with a whole bunch of strangers?

How’s this for obvious:

I realize it had to be all-or-nothing for me, and you’re not the all type.

Geez it’s been a while.  Little site redesign, and now you can check out both my Facebook status and links I’ve been sharing through Google Reader.

Otherwise…

1. Got a new job at a certain massive corporation.  Pay is good, work is good, perks are nice.
2. Band has taken off, to the point where it’s like a second job.  Except I can drink on the clock.  Lots of shows, lots of practice.  Demo released, album in the works.
3. Moved into a decent apartment on Capitol Hill.  Finally have space to stand in the center of the room and spin around and not smack into things.  This makes me very happy.
4. Make enough money to be able to buy toys and clothes that aren’t from thrift stores.  This too makes me happy.
5. 99 problems but a yatch ain’t one..  Sometimes it rains, sometimes it pours, sometimes it’s dry as a bone (har).  But I’m still riding the wave (and mixing metaphors).  Occasionally I even split infinitives.
6. Strange, I actually feel pretty happy most of the time.  Not that I don’t suck – I’m the worst – but I’m also pretty good.

1.  Lunch with A and talking about God, depression, and rock stardom.

2. 

3.  Beers with the boys.  Screaming “LIFE IS ABSURD” from the passenger seat.

4.  Forgetting old debts.  Drinking red wine and talking girls and politics with J until five in the morning.

5.  Chatting up that cutie at Fuse.  Acid with J and G on Foster Island.  Swamping.  Back to the bench, talking to the cops.  Dudes, the purple, it’s kicking in…

6.  BBQ in “the stew”.  The speakeasy that makes me feel Southern.

7.  Saying goodnight.  Walking home silent, showering the stink off, watching TV and going to bed.  My cup was empty.

8.  Making a good day from a broken phone.  Pulling G out of his comfort zone.  Beer on patios, with calamari and free meatloaf sliders.  Sorry with O in the park.  Making out after all these years.  That moment, right after you’ve lied down, where that arm reaches around and pulls her close

9.  Lunch at Honeyhole.  Bus to mom’s, bathe the cat and take a nap.

10.  Blue C Sushi with N.  Apologies and soul-searching.  A walk on the water and a chat with at the circus.  Last minute cards with B.

11.  Band practice.  Beer, watermelon, peanuts, and rejection with O.  So it goes.  She’s no good for me anyways.

12.  Practice.  Failing at the fixie.  Rocking the fuck out.  Daydreams of a packed house, a dance party, people screaming my name and demanding more.  Beer at Ivar’s with K.  Sitting on her patio with my arm around her.  Depression, dirt, isolation, public humiliation, heartbreak, sexual frustration.  Get it all out and get it in you.  Wisdom is having fucked up over and over again.  Confidence is having been the laughingstock enough times over.  God is having danced with the devil.  Love is repeated, relentless, heartbreak, soaked in the horniness of a million lonely nights.

13.  Never being alone.  The upswing of a manic cycle.  And, finally, happiness.

I don’t care who reads this.

My life is stupid. I work my job, come home, wait. Go back to work. It’s fucking depressing. I used to smoke pot to deal burn off my downtime, but all that does is ensure I stay up late and don’t get up in time for anything the next day. So I don’t do that anymore.

I don’t have many friends left. Most of the people I really connected to left after school, and what’s left it’s rapidly growing distant. Occasionally people my friends ditch me (with one notable example haunting my dreams at the moment), but most of the time it’s my fault. Whoo, boy, is it ever my fault. T – I forgot her birthday. Didn’t even call when I remembered. Christmas rolled around, and I fretted for weeks about what to get her (mind you, I still hadn’t even called her at that point). Randomly run into her at a party, and sheepishly I said hi and talked to her. It was nice. She sent me an email a few months later, real short and nice – “Let’s get a drink some time!” I responded, too late, that I was a fuck up and trying to change. I never got a response, and it turns out I didn’t end up changing.

That’s one is the worst, but I’ve done it several times. To relatives who always sent me something nice on my birthday. Friends from high school. People I genuinely liked and trusted, had history with, probably should have at least kept in touch with. Oh well.

Broke up with my girlfriend a few months ago. I felt dead weight in our relationship, while she still liked me. And now, she’s moving on, she’s going to parties and getting drunk and having fun, meeting new guys and making new friends. And I’m sitting around Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday night, alone. Bored. Lonely. And yet totally unwilling to go out and do it. Where do you start?

Fuck it. A, your probably the only person who will read this. I’m jealous because you’re supposed to be the shy one, the young inexperienced one, and I’m the sagely older one. But your life is going well, and mine sucks. I’m very jealous, and being older only means I have had more time to fuck up yet not learn from my mistakes.

That’s really the crux of it. I’m desperately, desperately lonely. Everyone has got their clique, their group of friends, and what do I have? I have a handful of random people I’ve connected with, people I couldn’t dream of inviting to the same party, who I see, one-on-one, once every week or so. How do you meet new people when you’re incapable of being comfortable around more than one at a time?

…tonight, I think he wouldn’t be disappointed.  I could half-heartedly mumble the lyrics to one of his songs while plucking on the bass.  “Ah yes, the Chelsea Hotel,” he would say.  “That Janis..”

“I know!  Isn’t she just.. ” I’d chime in.  “Thing is, Leonard, we also have a song about heartbreak”.  Then K would begin hammering out the chords to our new song, and J would tap in on the electric drum kit.   Two mics, two voices mumble “Honey..”  An unadorned bass line plucks in the roots, and the voices tell a simple story.  “

“Baby,”

“You been breakin’ me all day..”

“..bitch.”  A sour tone.

The drums drop.  A four count plucks out three chords; from the couch, C harmonizes, and D wishes he had a way to join in.

A verse, call and response echoing.  The chorus again.  Then just piano and four voices singing.. “

[I forget how it goes.  must email K for the lyrics again.  damn catchy though]

Today was off.

I couldn’t get to sleep last night, and went to bed late, and woke up later than I have since I started this blog. A unusually dry mouth this morning has evolved into a sore throat that is still nagging at me, and my nose is running even after vacuuming and a walk in the sun. Whatever. I worked the list I wrote up the night before – Spanish practice in the morning then errands: to the bank to get some paperwork notarized, up and down the Ave looking for an evening job, then to my research gig.

I don’t think I can get away with calling it a bad day. Nothing in particular went wrong; it’s just that nothing seem to go right. It took three banks to find a notary, no one was hiring, and I got mixed up about research and missed my shift entirely. Nothing catastrophic, yet I feel like I cranked the machine all day and got no stack of finished widgets to prove it.

Or rather, I felt like that when I got home. Even though today was the perfect afternoon to start a new project, even though I had dinner plans with a friend, I couldn’t stop myself from calling into bed with a book, and when sleep closed in I curled up and accepted its refuge.

So now it’s 11:42, and my day has slipped by. My list is a bit shorter, but I don’t feel any more “done”, and I have a feeling this sore throat and runny nose are going to get worse before they get better.

You know, I kind of expected to reach some sort of epiphany by now.