Brooce

Some musicians...okay, ROCK STAHS.... manage to keep it no matter how old they get. One of the few is Bruce Springsteen.

While i am not a rabid fan of his, i am a fan. i realized this in 1985 while driving down Route 1A to Jamestown to pick up Esme. The local "alternative" station, WBRU, was truly anti-play list- they would play Cream and then Lords of the New Church, The Who then Dead Kennedys.... it was unpredictable, and a hell of a lot of fun. Years later they purchased the million dollar "cutting edge" format and that was that.

That night, they played "Jungleland", and when i heard the opening piano i had to pull my car over. Sure, i had heard "Born to Run." My eighth grade year was filled with "The River," and most of my high school experience was sound tracked by "Born in the USA," which i hated. But "Jungleland" showed me why he was such a phenomena in 1974. i bought "Born to Run" a couple of days later.

Tonight, VH-1 Classic is playing live clips of artists who have played Hyde Park. Springsteen and the E Street Band played "London Calling."

Just when i thought he couldn't get any cooler.

slow death

This morning I was lucky enough to hear about the Land's birthday party, complete with stories about ExA's boyfriend, who is entertaining and wonderful. And he makes her mix CDs with songs i used to sing to her as a child.

It's as though no one notices the absence- makes sense in ExA's case whose mother ran through a succession of men in her childhood so to her it is the norm- but the level of normalcy around those in the periphery is boggling.

I am beginning to realize that not seeing them may be best for all.

shedding

It's not sadness, emptiness, worthlessness, it's waiting. Waiting around for someone or something to make your heart beat again.

My second birth was at 18 years old, and i regret not one part of it. Esme, my savior, has my undying devotion because of five years of living off her love, her caring.

i am not sure i can be born again. At this point, i wish i could feel as though i want to be.

beautiful albatross

It gets harder and harder to remain in contact with the Land and The Sea, although i am not so dumb as to realize the pain of not seeing them would be worse.

But i would get used to not seeing them. i have no reason to not believe this, as i am assured by those around me i will get used to losing the love of my life, get used to having this scar of an affair forever on my soul.

And right now all i want to do is get away from this pain. It goes underground then comes back stronger: last night in a dream where ExA and i reunite (typical non linear images, but that was the idea... i remember the dream me thinking about how this would affect my relationship with Seraph).

And again this morning.

While driving them to ExA's, i asked the Land if she would call me Saturday afternoon and tell me about her birthday party, which I will not be attending. She replied that they would probably be too busy to call me, that her step sister would be there and spending the night. Then she went into great detail about the wonderful weekend she will have with her step sister.

Immediately, i go to the place i find most comforting. Suicide is selfish and short sighted.

And freeing.

the hardest stars

Seraph and I traversed the rocky path leading to Rome Point. Down the beach to the bend at Rome Bay, we settle on some rocks. i unload cheese, wine, bread and grapes, unsure if she will eat any.

Our time is always marked by this pattern: find an activity, talk about things that would bore some, and then, maybe, kiss. i had been thinking all day that i would end the date telling her i am only interested in being friends.

Instead i tell her about the attempt. i tell her because i fear i come off negative, and want her to understand what feeds it. i am not sure it was a good idea, but i don't regret it. i ask again about how she gets her positivism, and the answer always assures me in it's simplicity.

After an hour, we pack up and walk back down the beach for the path. Entering the first part of the path, a circle opens making a natural planetarium- the stars, which had been slowly taking us in back on the rocks, now spill out in an ocean. Sensing that she does not want to leave, i suggest we spread the blanket on the ground and watch the stars. It is still hard to tell if you are being straightforward with me when i ask "Do you want to...?"

We spend three hours on the ground, looking for stars hardest to see, seeing five shooting stars and finally kiss. i don't remember why i want to become just friends.

scythe

A classmate of my daughter's was murdered by her mother yesterday. i am not quite sure how to broach it with her... i did not know anyone who died at my age as a child,let alone by the hands of a parent.

The first time i recall a classmate dying was when a guy i went to private school with killed himself over losing a girlfriend. i hadn't spoken to him in over 4 years, and went to the funeral. i wish i could remember what i thought about it at the time, given my new enlightened view of suicide.

i know, and fear, that the Land will act as though it's not a big deal, then become quiet, maybe tear up. That is how she deals with most emotional situations. Or, she will not grasp the concept of death at her young age.

Mermaid

The Sea spent her time on the wet sand, waves moving in and out all over her, yelling at the waves with defiance. i could not tell what she was yelling, but to her is was a battle call. My sister and i listened to her go on and on, without any idea of what she was saying. When she tired of this, she would pad her way up to me and ask to go back out into the deeper part, where she now defied the waves by rising above them, using them to buoy her little body as she reigned over them.

What pleasure she gets from water, and i get from this.