January 30, 2002

  • (Note: I tried to ‘blog this earlier, and it didn’t work, so it may appear twice. If that’s the case, this is the ‘official’ one.)

    I don’t want to be a regret
    As anybody’s fault, as anybody’s blame

    I don’t want to be forgotten
    In apathy or in denial

    I want to be remembered
    As “Oh yeah…” or better, “Hey, remember when?”


    Once upon a time the universe conspired to send me exactly what I wanted in the form of K. She was that XTC song: “Little did I know that on that rainy day/All the little wishes I had put away would bring you” She was (and is) a writer, an editor, thespian, beautiful dreamer, caring and giving, and One Tough Broad. Cute, petite, ass-kicking. With the most sensitive bullshit detector ever, and an even more sensitive way of dealing with the bullshit.

    I freaked. I really did. But I didn’t have the courtesy to do it in a small way. I moved across the nation to hang out with her. Me, with my wrecked life (and that’s not hyperbole or self-abuse; my life was wrecked), I was going to try and create a new identity for myself, a new way of being, and I was going to get to try making it all work while living in the apartment across the walkway from a woman who embodied pretty much all of my romantic dreams (geeky, sophisticated, beautiful, strong) while also being intimidating (actual, real, living, breathing). Yeah right.

    It took six months (the term of my sublet) for me to finally realize that this was stupid. I isolated myself, lived in a curious mixture of happy anticipation that she might come rescue me from my emotional vapor-lock, and dread that she might come and implicate me in my own loser-ness. Never mind what her feelings for me were; I was like a frightened puppy lost in the world, except with an extra helping of shame. I seldom went over to her place. She was far, far more patient than she needed to be. She helped me maintain the myth a little, with occassional gentle jabs of reality to try and bring me around. If there is a God, he needs to bless K. for this alone.

    Finally she quoted Richard Thompson to me: “You? Me? Us?” I didn’t have an answer after six months. I wanted her, I wanted to be alone, I wanted a job, I wanted a place to live, I wanted for everything in my life to just start working. None of it seemed to be coming true.

    When my sublet came to the end of the term, I looked and looked for a place to go, but no place happened. So I decided to move to Seattle, for the simple reason that I knew people there. I can’t even remember saying goodbye to her, though I’m sure I did. Freaked, I was.

    I talk to her sometimes. We’re friends, I suppose, though if I want to keep that much of it I better get back in touch soon. She got married and try as I might, I couldn’t go to the wedding; I had an anxiety attack and couldn’t turn my car into the driveway where it was being held. The XTC song also says, “If wishing is bad, bad, bad/Then send me to hell, hell, hell”

    Helas. Mourn with me now the missed opportunities, and join me in attempting to forgive myself for not knowing my reach from my grasp.

Comments (8)

  • I met you last night – the “Howl”…and very glad that I did…we are connected in many ways…I am in the process of deciding where I shall move…to do exactly what you did – to be a “new me”…but there is no one prompting this…I just need to find my place, a nurturing and loving spot on this earth that I can embrace as my own…too long a story to really stroke out here….and I suffer from panic attacks, although I ‘m getting better…this is a wonderful and revealing entry..I’m glad to have met you..Rosemary

  • This is much like what I did in moving to DC., though I might have been the stronger, more with-it one. Hard to say, but it was a bumpy 3 years. I’m ever so glad it happened, though.

    I’m happy to see such clear (and as always) insightful writing, Homer…

    -m

  • I once did this…and it turned out the guy was a bum.  BUT the TOWN turned out to be HOME.  Maybe it wasn’t him I heard calling…

    Thanks Homeriffic…today, in your honor I sent a postcard to someone in my past who probably never knew I thought of him “that way.”

    smooch.

  • The last major player to crack my heart made a remark that I thought was a cheap justification on her part, but as time wore on I began to see a certain wisdom in it.  She said:  “Love guides us to where we need to follow, but it may not be for love that we must go there, but for something else entirely.”

    A more sublime and perfect carrot on a stick cannot be found. 

  • The ~HowL~ was good, this is better.  This reaches in, grabs me in a place I can’t define, is it my throat?  My heart?  My stomache?  My groin?

    Good writing. 
    Now … I just wanna slap you and tell you to get over it.  I wanna be the bitchy big sister who takes you out to shoot pool and listen to you mourn for a bit over an incident … gets you drunk, and then tells you like it Is while you’re so intoxicated it only filters to your sub conscious …
    After a day or two, when the hangover ends … you have this nagging feeling you’re supposed to remember something, but not Her …
    And then you fall in love, the very next week …
    And then … you live, because you have relaxed into the present moment.

  • I love Raw_Flame.  She’s my seeester too.  We slap each other around a fair bit, and the fact that she’s hanging around, along with Larston who reminds you to put on your sweater and drink scotch…

    Well, your chooser is doing as well as mine is these days.

    I’m soooooo grateful for the end to our respectful silence.  Ya know, rambling into your ear is MUCH more fun.

    Thanks for being all right.

    V~

  • probaly sounds corny and cliche and stuff but at least you gave it a trie… if you hadn’t gone you might still be wondering what if… I think that is even worse…

  • What if’s are easier than knowing it’ll never happen.  Still, brave to try, braver still to tell.  Thanks for the story.

Comments are closed.

Post a Comment