Thursday night I dragged my ass out to see Telegram and meet up with Phillip, and man, am I glad that I did. Great, great show. The boys really rocked it out. Afterwards, I headed over to the Highlander for a couple games of pool, then back to Trista's house for a minute.
On my way home, my phone rang. I recognized the number as that of The One Who Broke My Heart despite having deleted his number out of my phonebook 10 months ago. Uncharacteristically, I answered the phone thinking that there was something wrong for him to be calling at 2am on a Thursday night.
"Hello?"
"Love, it's John. Look, I know I'm not your favorite person right now, but I need your help. Please."
"What's up?"
"I've had a couple drinks and started my drive home and realized that I've had one too many to be driving. Can I please come over?"
"No, I don't want you at my place, but pull over and I'll come pick you up and take you home. Take your keys out of your ignition. I'll be there in a minute."
"Thank you so much. Thank you."
I picked him up and took him home. Clearly, my mistake was going inside, but we were talking and the conversation was honest and amiable. He couldn't believe I had deleted his number (I told him I had): "That's so permanent. If I delete a number, then it's like I'm deleting the person from my life. I thought we were different than that."
(Yeah, and I thought "I love you" meant "I love you" and "you give me everything I want and need" meant "you give me everything I want and need.")
Next thing I know and the very last thing I expected, I'm in the middle of SexFest2005. It was really great sex, but our sex was always hot. Coincidentally, this encounter was one day shy of a year since our last go-around and, essentially, the end of our year-long affair.
I'm feeling pretty emotionally solid, which is a bit surprising considering I never healed wholly from the staggering heartbreak he caused me. I guess I created a barrier between my mind, body and soul that night, though indeed it would be nice to have a relationship that honors the unity of these things instead of dividing part of me against the rest of myself. On the flip side, the realistic/practical/experienced side of me doesn't believe there can be unity between body, mind and soul when it comes to sex and men. Either I have to compartmentalize or I set myself up for disappointment.
John actually said to me the other night that he wanted to "make love" to me all night and all through the next day - that he could stay like "this" forever. How much he missed me. How much he wanted me. How sexy he thought I was. How much he wanted to go down on me. How often he thought about it. How much he wanted me to have pleasure ("I want to make you come a million times before I do" or "Just relax and enjoy this - don't worry about me"). How much he loved to be inside me. How much he "loved sharing this with me - sharing each other."
If I believed or took to heart anything he said that night, then I would be a mess right now. But I'm not a mess right now because I shut myself off from my emotions. I knew tomorrow would be different and that what he was saying was fleeting.
Legitimately, I tried to resist. I told him "no" over and over and pushed him away from me and off me and repeatedly pulled his hand out of my pants. But then he tore down my pants, saying he wanted to "taste me until I came" and I said, "No, no, no". Then he flipped me over and pried apart my legs because he is bigger and stronger than me, and I couldn't help but give in to the pleasure of it all. My heart and mind were saying no, but my body was saying yes.
When he called me last night, as expected I could sense a complete and utter detachment in his voice like he felt nothing of the sort he expressed just 12 hours before. That switch had unsurprisingly been turned right back off. But this time, only my tired body has to heal and not my broken heart.
~ the lady love
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Seen Around Town
I almost took flight from Atlanta three years ago for Seattle. I literally had all the arrangements made - all but having the moving truck packed. A friend tearfully begged me on his knees to stay an extra year and move in with him. I conceded easily. We found a lovely bungalow in Candler Park that felt very adult-like, and we lived there for a year. After our year was up, we decided to live separately again, and we both moved into different lofts in Midtown. Another year passed. I stayed put, and my friend moved to Fort Lauderdale, leaving me behind, which I found somewhat ironic.
Almost another year has zipped by now, and I'm wondering if and when I will ever leave this city.
To be fair, I didn't stay exclusively for my friend. He just made it easy. In fact, the planned move was part of a series of life changes I had made: I exited a 5-year long relationship that had run its course, I quit my job and began freelancing, and I started taking better care of myself the way I should. By the time the move came 'round, I was quite happy with my life. I didn't need to run away to the other side of the country.
One of the most difficult parts of making the decision to move, then and now, is the thought of abandoning the network of family and friends that I've built here and starting over again from scratch. Yet, at times, it's the exact reason why I want to leave. There is an undeniable appeal that comes with the type of anonymity that I can no longer enjoy in this place. For living in city of substantial size, I always seem to run into someone I know everywhere I go - even in the most random or obscure places.
A perfect example: a recent Friday night I took myself out to dinner. I've been in retreat-mode as of late, so I wanted to be by myself (as much as I could while being in public). I happened upon a quaint little Italian restaurant called DaVinci's tucked behind a Cuban place on Ponce de Leon. Perfect.
I walked into the dimly lit eatery to be received by a bartendar stationed behind an understated bar with a scanty five bar stools. Two patrons claimed the lone high-top table in the place. I asked for a menu and promptly ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Yes. This is exactly what I was looking for.
While I was gazing at the menu for a ridiculously long time, I heard a voice boom in my direction, "Don't I know you?"
Looking up, I said, "You're Dave, right?" He was one of the two patrons in the place besides myself.
"I sure am, and you're Love. How's it going?"
I'll save you from the formalities of the hey-how-ya-doin' banter, but unbelievable! Here I thought I was safe. I didn't have to be me. Wrong. Dave proceeded to engage me in resistant conversation throughout my entire meal. It turned out alright, though.
At the same time, I can't help but relish the fact that I've built myself a small town here. Atlanta is a decent place to be. There's a lot of good stuff here. Sure, it's stained by its own brand of bullshit, but what city isn't?
I don't know what it is I want to run away from. Maybe it's just myself that I can't escape. I think mostly, though, I just want to escape the me that everybody else thinks that I am - the person who carries the conversation or always has something funny or witty or entertaining to say. But that's not always me. And you know what? That's okay.
~ the lady love
Almost another year has zipped by now, and I'm wondering if and when I will ever leave this city.
To be fair, I didn't stay exclusively for my friend. He just made it easy. In fact, the planned move was part of a series of life changes I had made: I exited a 5-year long relationship that had run its course, I quit my job and began freelancing, and I started taking better care of myself the way I should. By the time the move came 'round, I was quite happy with my life. I didn't need to run away to the other side of the country.
One of the most difficult parts of making the decision to move, then and now, is the thought of abandoning the network of family and friends that I've built here and starting over again from scratch. Yet, at times, it's the exact reason why I want to leave. There is an undeniable appeal that comes with the type of anonymity that I can no longer enjoy in this place. For living in city of substantial size, I always seem to run into someone I know everywhere I go - even in the most random or obscure places.
A perfect example: a recent Friday night I took myself out to dinner. I've been in retreat-mode as of late, so I wanted to be by myself (as much as I could while being in public). I happened upon a quaint little Italian restaurant called DaVinci's tucked behind a Cuban place on Ponce de Leon. Perfect.
I walked into the dimly lit eatery to be received by a bartendar stationed behind an understated bar with a scanty five bar stools. Two patrons claimed the lone high-top table in the place. I asked for a menu and promptly ordered a bourbon on the rocks. Yes. This is exactly what I was looking for.
While I was gazing at the menu for a ridiculously long time, I heard a voice boom in my direction, "Don't I know you?"
Looking up, I said, "You're Dave, right?" He was one of the two patrons in the place besides myself.
"I sure am, and you're Love. How's it going?"
I'll save you from the formalities of the hey-how-ya-doin' banter, but unbelievable! Here I thought I was safe. I didn't have to be me. Wrong. Dave proceeded to engage me in resistant conversation throughout my entire meal. It turned out alright, though.
At the same time, I can't help but relish the fact that I've built myself a small town here. Atlanta is a decent place to be. There's a lot of good stuff here. Sure, it's stained by its own brand of bullshit, but what city isn't?
I don't know what it is I want to run away from. Maybe it's just myself that I can't escape. I think mostly, though, I just want to escape the me that everybody else thinks that I am - the person who carries the conversation or always has something funny or witty or entertaining to say. But that's not always me. And you know what? That's okay.
~ the lady love
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
If you live in Atlanta...
... and happen upon this here little blog, come to Eddie's Attic this Thursday, Oct. 27 for some killer live music from Kitty Snyder and Telegram. (Click to hear music samples)
~ the lady love
~ the lady love
Saturday, October 22, 2005
I dig this song.
I can listen to this song over and over again. I especially like when it kicks in real good. I was a lucky enough girl for these guys to play at my 30th birthday party.
~ the lady love
~ the lady love
Friday, October 21, 2005
Burning Down The What?
Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I was awakened at 3:45 a.m. by the smell of smoke. The first thing that ran through my head was, "Fuck. The building is on fire." I laid there for a second thinking about a plan of action. First, I decided that if I couldn't get out my door, I would climb into my loft and out the window onto the roof and work my around to the back side of the building where I could jump to the ground and still survive. (I've watched too much Alias).
Second, I thought about the things I should try to save: my cat, my camera, my computer, and my coat. (Curious alliteration here, eh?).
Third, I thought I oughtta check to make sure the smoke/fire wasn't coming from my place first. Oh yeah, and I should probably put some clothes on.
I got up, took a gander, and determined that it was definitely coming from somewhere else. Good. If the building goes up in flames, I didn't want to be the cause of setting it ablaze. I promptly got dressed, walked to my door and felt to see if it was hot. It was cold. As I walked through the halls towards the front door of the building, I could hear fire truck sirens screaming outside. I flung open the front door to see five fire engines lined up along my street in front of my building as well as a bevy of po-lice. Smoke filled the air, and I watched the firemen run into the building next door. I waited and watched for just a few minutes in true gawker style, then one by one the fire trucks and cops pulled away 'til they were all gone. I was sufficiently confused.
Where was the fire? The driver of a car that got trapped between the blocked off intersections on either end of my block told me, "They couldn't find the fire. It's not here. It's somewhere else."
Okey-dokey.
I don't know which incident is more bizarre: this one here or the one from a few weeks ago. I was awakened at 1:30 a.m. by what I thought was an aircraft (helicopter) about to crash into my apartment. Instead, it just circled right past my window with a beam spotlight on for probably 20 minutes. I was rather annoyed as I had had a difficult time falling to sleep that night and was subjected to the obnoxious sound of a loud helicopter hanging out right above my head for what seemed like an eternity.
I almost went outside to see what was going on, but then it occurred to me that if a police helicopter is circling my building at 1:30 a.m. with its beam spotlight on, then there was probably some crazed weapon-toter outside, so checking it out wouldn't necessarily be the smartest idea. The next day I found out that there was a transvestite prostitute on my corner holding people up a gunpoint.
There's some strange stuff that goes on right outside my door, and I don't even know about it.
~ the lady love
Second, I thought about the things I should try to save: my cat, my camera, my computer, and my coat. (Curious alliteration here, eh?).
Third, I thought I oughtta check to make sure the smoke/fire wasn't coming from my place first. Oh yeah, and I should probably put some clothes on.
I got up, took a gander, and determined that it was definitely coming from somewhere else. Good. If the building goes up in flames, I didn't want to be the cause of setting it ablaze. I promptly got dressed, walked to my door and felt to see if it was hot. It was cold. As I walked through the halls towards the front door of the building, I could hear fire truck sirens screaming outside. I flung open the front door to see five fire engines lined up along my street in front of my building as well as a bevy of po-lice. Smoke filled the air, and I watched the firemen run into the building next door. I waited and watched for just a few minutes in true gawker style, then one by one the fire trucks and cops pulled away 'til they were all gone. I was sufficiently confused.
Where was the fire? The driver of a car that got trapped between the blocked off intersections on either end of my block told me, "They couldn't find the fire. It's not here. It's somewhere else."
Okey-dokey.
I don't know which incident is more bizarre: this one here or the one from a few weeks ago. I was awakened at 1:30 a.m. by what I thought was an aircraft (helicopter) about to crash into my apartment. Instead, it just circled right past my window with a beam spotlight on for probably 20 minutes. I was rather annoyed as I had had a difficult time falling to sleep that night and was subjected to the obnoxious sound of a loud helicopter hanging out right above my head for what seemed like an eternity.
I almost went outside to see what was going on, but then it occurred to me that if a police helicopter is circling my building at 1:30 a.m. with its beam spotlight on, then there was probably some crazed weapon-toter outside, so checking it out wouldn't necessarily be the smartest idea. The next day I found out that there was a transvestite prostitute on my corner holding people up a gunpoint.
There's some strange stuff that goes on right outside my door, and I don't even know about it.
~ the lady love
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Five Things...
...I really like (in no particular order):
1) Ace Pear Cider
2) Eminem
3) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4) Good Lighting
5) Lists
1) Ace Pear Cider
2) Eminem
3) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4) Good Lighting
5) Lists
I Need a Shower.
Thanks to my savvy internet sleuth skills - okay, really my site traffic meter - my readership seems to be on the rise. But it's funny. All of a sudden, I'm a lot more self-conscience about wanting to say something worth reading or at least something that doesn't make me sound quite so pathetic. It's kind of ironic since the whole point behind this here little blog was to not sling contrived. Yet I find myself reading what I write lately and thinking, "I sound so pathetic", so I delete it. Either that, or I sit at my keyboard and strain from verbal constipation. So fuck it. I feel pretty pathetic right now, so why should I pretend like I don't?
1) I am depressed
2) I have never fully recovered from a broken heart last year
3) I have friends all around me yet I still feel lonely
4) I am not taking proper care of myself
5) I do not go out much anymore
6) I am directionless
7) I fantasize about walking away from my life and working in a gas station in Wyoming, and I've never even been to Wyoming
8) I'm tired of rolling with the punches
9) I feel guilty and self-indulgent whining about it when I know I could have it a lot worse. I mean, there are people in the world who don't even have the luxury of confronting their emotional selves because, by the accident of birth, their lives are about mere survival.
10) I do not feel like this all the time, but the feeling has been growing bigger lately
11) I know that it is not permanent, but it is up to me to fix it
12) I would like to experience a relationship with a man who treats me right. Maybe it would be more accurate to say a man who isn't still a little boy emotionally even though I don't even require much emotional intensity.
13) I am not joyless but there is an underlying constant heavy that I do not portray socially
14) I don't want to be a buzzkill because I'm not too fond of buzzkills myself
15) This is not me
16) But it is me
17) I've been here before
18) I've gotten out of this place before
19) In theory it's nice to not have expecations, but it is much harder in practice if you have standards (of any kind)
20) I hate television but find myself watching anyway
21) 17 out of 20 things on this list start with "I", the other two have "me" in them, and number 19 says "you", but I really mean "me". Number 21 has both "I" and "me" in it.
~ the lady love
1) I am depressed
2) I have never fully recovered from a broken heart last year
3) I have friends all around me yet I still feel lonely
4) I am not taking proper care of myself
5) I do not go out much anymore
6) I am directionless
7) I fantasize about walking away from my life and working in a gas station in Wyoming, and I've never even been to Wyoming
8) I'm tired of rolling with the punches
9) I feel guilty and self-indulgent whining about it when I know I could have it a lot worse. I mean, there are people in the world who don't even have the luxury of confronting their emotional selves because, by the accident of birth, their lives are about mere survival.
10) I do not feel like this all the time, but the feeling has been growing bigger lately
11) I know that it is not permanent, but it is up to me to fix it
12) I would like to experience a relationship with a man who
13) I am not joyless but there is an underlying constant heavy that I do not portray socially
14) I don't want to be a buzzkill because I'm not too fond of buzzkills myself
15) This is not me
16) But it is me
17) I've been here before
18) I've gotten out of this place before
19) In theory it's nice to not have expecations, but it is much harder in practice if you have standards (of any kind)
20) I hate television but find myself watching anyway
21) 17 out of 20 things on this list start with "I", the other two have "me" in them, and number 19 says "you", but I really mean "me". Number 21 has both "I" and "me" in it.
~ the lady love
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Saturday, October 08, 2005
A Funny Little Side Note
A friend confided to me over lunch today that he was going to smoke the ganja tonight for the first time ever. When we were parting ways, I asked him to call tomorrow and let me know how it was getting high. "Shhhh! Could you keep your voice down please?" to which I replied, "One day you're gonna get that stick all the way out of your ass."
~ the lady love
~ the lady love
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Unfortunately, for reasons beyond our control, we are no longer able to post our friend's final writings about his death. I'm sorry. I will say that he always told his friends about how evil and opportunistic his mother was, which comprised a portion of his writings. In fact, up until about a month ago at his father's funeral, he hadn't spoken to her in over a decade. He always said she was a pathological liar with a heart that was cold and black. According to him, she was also very physically abusive to him. He acknowledged that most of his longlived emotional issues stemmed from his relationship with her and the abuse she rendered.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Born (click to listen)
I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear
Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find
Intuition, deja vu
The holy ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don't mind
Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be
Secret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke's on me
We've seen the landfill rainbow
We've seen the junkyard of love
Baby it's no place for you and me
I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear
~ Over the Rhine (recommended: click to hear)
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear
Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find
Intuition, deja vu
The holy ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don't mind
Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be
Secret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke's on me
We've seen the landfill rainbow
We've seen the junkyard of love
Baby it's no place for you and me
I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear
~ Over the Rhine (recommended: click to hear)
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