Broken Apart
February 25th, 2007 / 1 comment »(i feel like this guitar)
Randomly found this as I was exiting the subway. It’s a little eerie, right? Makes me worry there’s a poor Lillith girl out there who got mugged on her way to the coffeehouse. Probably just as well; one less guitar in the world to lead decent folks in cringe-worthy “Miss American Pie” group sing-a-longs. I really hate those.
She’s FUCKED, I’m READY
February 22nd, 2007 / 5 comments »This is a scene — my favorite scene, the BEST scene — from the movie “CAMP”. The movie’s about all the weird kids who attend a performing arts summer camp, where they get to be gay and unbullied and indulge their Broadway aspirations. I went to see it 4yrs ago one boring night after work and totally fell in love, saw it about a million times till the DVD came out. Maybe it’s my inner child-actor (the one I’ve restrained and beaten into silence) that responds to it, cuz I love this scene like Whitney loves her crack. My friends and I re-enact it all the time.
“Everybody riiiiiiiiiise!”
In this scene, the shy girl Fritzie has poisoned her rival right before the big number so she can go onstage in her place. What’s utterly ridiculous and hilarious is that they’re doing COMPANY, a Sondheim musical about married couples and midlife crisis. “Ladies Who Lunch” is supposed to be sung by an aging high-society bitch in her 50′s, drunkenly toasting herself for being a cliche —- I just love that a 12yr old tween is singing the shit out of it. Let’s hear it for the ladies who lunch, mmkay? YouTube for life. Get on your feet and rise, bitch.
Pretty Please
February 21st, 2007
Float On
February 20th, 2007 / 1 comment »Taurus: You may need a bit of alone time in order to balance your inner needs with what others expect of you now. After the last couple of days, you could be a little disoriented as you come back up for air. Your common sense is not working as reliably as usual, so delay making any significant decisions. You will be better off once you give yourself permission to float for a while.
Yeah, filing my tax deductions can wait another week or so.
The weekend felt like a month, which normally is a good thing but whatever. Did the tearful heart-wrenching goodbye in person with P, which I still have not fully recovered from. Almost finished painting my apartment (just the bedroom left), saw a few friends (Battlestar Galactica is funner in groups), and made it to church finally. I really liked Revolution (aka the church for ppl who have given up on church), it’s a very loose format and something about its simplicity felt very genuine. They hold meetings at this hipster bar out in Williamsburg (Brooklyn?!) and the holiday weekend had the trains running slow, so I got there late… but still, there was a sense of calm that it brought. They ended the service in a prayer, it was the first time I’d done that in a long time. Jay Bakker is the founder and pastor of this ministry, he’s a young, peirced/tattooed smoker, cusser and Jesus Lover — don’t be impressed yet cuz I’ve seen his type before. Growing up as a pastor’s kid myself (yup) I used to attend lots of “cool” alterna-churches where everyone was radical and “on-fire for God”; their pastors always made a big show of dressing trendy and spiking their hair, but when it all came down, the judgements were still the same (watch SAVED, you’ll get it). But there’s something truthfully different about Jay and this ministry: it’s the real deal, very “come as you are”, no self-righteousness… and it’s pro-gay. What I like most is that it’s not just a place for ppl who are new to Christianity, ppl like me (who grew up around it) can get things from it too. At Revolution, everyone seems to be going through shit — including the pastor — and are just there to meet up and to talk about it and search for strength in God, together. That’s something I can get behind, feels good. So I’ll be back.
Talked to my mom and dad last night, they’ve been really sweet about checking in with me. And my not-so-little sister is thinking about moving in with her boyfriend. Of course I’m happy for her but it takes some digging to find it, the happiness, cuz shit, it’s still very cold where I am. My heart is totally rearranged. In other news, I forgot that going through a break-up kills your appetite; I’m hollow man. Now that I’m alone and w/o someone to be naked with, I’m suddenly slimming down. Irony is a whore and I’d like her bitchslapped.
Supposed to go see Talk Radio on Broadway tonight. I’m not much for Liev Schrieber but that hotass Sebastian Stan from The Covenant is in the cast so I may just make the trek out in this cold weather. Ugh, these are the steps we take to press forward, or at least to float ahead. But don’t be fooled: I think about him constantly. Even when I’m not doing it I am. The fact that I keep my feet planted and stay on the train each time it stops at his subway station is a small victory.
No Clippers Needed
February 19th, 2007Under the Surface
February 18th, 2007Morphin’ Time
February 17th, 2007 / 4 comments »A crazy emotional wreck of a man took over this here blog while I was off winding it up with Gwen Stefani and a lonely goatherd. After a Kill Bill-ish samurai smackdown on the A train this morning (I did him like GoGo and strangled his ass with my winter scarf), he’s dead, and I have taken the power back. Sabertooth tiger!
Stick around, I WILL be here.
sawdust
February 15th, 2007I tried really hard. Gave Pedro and Us everything I had. Didn’t work.
The whole period has been sad and uncomfortable, even with us trying to work things out. Conversations felt forced, he barely looked me in the eye. I barely heard from on Valentine’s Day or at all this week and tonight, I opened my inbox and there was a very sincere email from him saying that he “just can’t” and asking me to let him go. There are a lot of reasons behind this decision, apparently, and he laid them all out there honestly and beautifully… in his email. After reading his letter I got bundled up and walked teary eyed — sobbing, actually — down Bennett Ave to 181st and stood outside his building in the freezing winter wind for a good 45 minutes, at an emotional crossroads. What was the point of going? I don’t know, I didn’t expect anything to change by my showing up, his email said everything for the most part. I just… I wanted to look into his eyes and say the goodbye, at least honor our relationship. There was no way I could let an email be the end of what we started over a year ago.
Someone let me in the building door and I went to his apartment but just sat on the 3rd floor stairs. I couldn’t bring myself to knock b/c I was embarassed and partly b/c I didn’t want this all to be really official, and mostly b/c I knew the right, grown up choice would be to let go, leave things here and just walk home. Got all the way up to 187th before heading back again. Finally I gathered the resolve to call him… and got his voicemail. It pissed me off b/c I realized this was gonna be how everything ended, so I said what I needed to say and I took myself back home where I belong. Randy. Jeff. Now Pedro — he was supposed to be the one, the one my heart had been primed and seasoned for by the other ones. The 3rd time is supposed to be the charm, now I’m scared this was it for me. Who actually gets lucky in love a 4th time? Maybe I never should have reached out a 2nd time, knowing all the personal demons he still is fighting. There won’t be another shot with this one again and it just kills me; I think I really would’ve weathered this storm with him… but it’s over. Too many walls I couldn’t climb. “I just can’t.” “I am incapable of being in this relationship.” “Please let me go and hold onto your love.” “I hope one day you can forgive me. Don’t ever doubt whether or not my love was real.” And that’s that. Everything I need to cut this off and move forward. If only I wanted to.
I’m back here again, standing solo in some sawdust. I wish this got easier the more often you do it. This is the part, I think, where I’m supposed to remember to let go and keep breathing, and pray to God that when I get up tomorrow morning and reach as far as I can into what’s left of my heart? I’ll come up with enough strength (or something like it) to pull everything else I’ve got forward to someplace better. Damn that was a shitload of bad poetry, huh? Hell, that’s where break-ups take you. Gotta fake the strength till I find it for real. Right now tears are the easiest thing to find.
Need to back off from this blog for a bit. The internet is a dangerous thing when you’re sad, what with MySpace and YouTube and blogs and all the immediate access. Hang in there, I’m trying my hardest. Just gotta keep breathing. OK…