Pop Goes The World

When Chris died, it was Elvis that told me. Presley, not Costello. Most don't believe me because El Great One has been dead for 36 years, but he is still out there, tricking us with his many forms and interpretations.

It was only El Diablo that could have told me about Chris, who I had known since grade school. We were not close, but Chris is one of those people who ways always at shows, always around Providence with his camera, always telling you something in that gravelly voice. His family is also close with ExA, so I came to re-know him in that capacity as well, her many stories about childhood shenanigans that showed unveiled Chris' personality before adulthood takes us all. In the late 80's, as I was driving around NK, I saw him walking along the side of the road, his trademark heavy metal hair cut and swagger, and gave him a ride. The irony of Chris is that he looked a bit frightening then, but once he started talking it dissipated and what you came to know was this oddly sweet, unassuming guy that loved music. The sweet part became known to me a few years ago when I ran into him at a Neutral Nation show on a very hot night, and he took my photo when I went out on the back deck to cool off. I thought nothing of it until he tagged me on Bacefook, and put a caption about knowing me since the 70's.

His death was sudden, but not entirely unexpected, as diabetes can kill you slowly. Still, Elvis barely had time to tell me about it, and went off to tell others. That night, all of us contemplated the feeling you get when a piece of your world has been removed but you're not quite sure how to fill it. Instead, it remains a gaping wound until the other sides of life draw together and heal, leaving a slight scar that prods your memory whenever it catches your eye.

i put on my raincoat to make it rain

Believe me, no one is as disappointed in me as I am, myself.

Over the past nine months, ExA and I had reached a new level, one where our conversation had moved beyond civil to friendly. It started last Autumn when she told me that Fortunato had moved out, but she was hoping they could "work it out." For about a week, i was thrown upside down, not necessarily hopeful that reconciliation was attainable, but that there had been vindication: they had lasted only five years. The conflict that arose in me subsided after only a few days, and for the first time since the divorce, i saw that we weren't meant to be together.

How many times have i said that, in this blog, to myself?

Numerous. And while there is a finite quality to the statement, each time it is said, i believe it more and more. Where years ago, i needed to know why i was rejected, i have, in moments of peace, realized that there may be no answer, or that no answer will give me what i want. Feeling less and less plagued, i was free to give myself completely to Noire.

In May, she sent me a text, after i picked up The Land and The Sea one night. It is the most caring thing she has said since the separation and divorce. Acknowledgement, then dismissal.....her usual disposition.

i confess i fantasize about having THAT conversation: she makes some overture to regretting that we're not married, not better friends. They are pathetic, and they keep me going.

A couple of months ago, i had to help The Sea find a pair of boots at ExA's, and was stunned to find a photo of Fortunato still on the wall, although she was seeing someone else. My dispassionate mind reminded me of how quickly all traces of me were removed from the house after the separation. i thought of it no more, put it in perspective: don't know...one of my favorite meditation phrases.

Tonight, as i lay in bed with The Sea, she complained about how tired she was, as ExA had taken them out for dinner to celebrate The Land's last day of school, and mentioned that Fortunato joined them. i don't know why it happens, but there went the world again, and all i wanted was that bridge railing again, to prove i didn't mean for it to be a mistake.

Instead, i went for a ride through my old neighborhood, the place where all answers are, but still hide from me. Some day, they will rise up to greet me, and in them i will find out why i am who i am: discontent, melancholic, and insular.

green returns, as does blue

It is the low time of year, a two month span that starts around the 23rd of March and ends with the last day of May. i miss her less and less with each month, but still cannot help but leave flowers at the church door every year on our anniversary. Noire is patient with me, allows me my space although she wants to touch me, make it better....not sure she knows what causes the sickness. i am sure she has her suspicions, but they are misdirected: she probably blames ExA, and while she is an ingredient, it's an apathy for everything in my life- fatherhood, friendships, work.

i wish i had an evil twin

A woman that i work with came into my office about three weeks ago to tell me that she thinks that i am such a nice guy- i always help others, and act so kindly towards everyone at work. i thanked her, and in following days i thought about how we judge those we know very superficially by one trait that stands out. For all she knows, i could be keeping prostitutes held captive in a secret room in my basement. Although "The Vanishing" was a poor remake of the original film, i found Jeff Bridges character interesting for his justification as to why he kidnapped and killed Sandra Bullock's character (my sophomore film professor would be disappointed that i am not referring to them by their characters). To paraphrase, he had committed an act so heroic (saving someone from drowning) that he had to prove that he could be capable of an act so evil as well. i know that i endeavor to do nice things- build most of my beliefs around it, in fact- but it is the dark side of us that fascinates me. i imagine it fascinates others as well, otherwise all of those dark, violent crime dramas wouldn't exist on TLC. It has bothered others when i talk about how a person would murder another, or what drives a person to that point. i cannot say why it doesn't bother me as well, but i think it is the feeling that by embracing what a person can do, no matter how dark, we learn.

i against i

As i discussed in August, my relationship with Noire can progress no further unless i commit to having a child.  After much back and forth, much of it swaying me to have one more, i told her in late November that i would.

I am partially there, as i was with her moving in and marriage.  In those situations, after i committed it brought me to being entirely committed.  That has not been the case in this situation- i ended up going in the opposite direction, and now know that i truly do not want to have more children. 

i struggle with the fact that it would make her happy, that it would put off my life goals only slightly, but what bothers me the most is that it goes against my intuition, and the last time i went against my intuition i ended up marrying a woman that i eventually divorced.

Same graveyard

It has almost been five years since ExA and i separated then divorced. i have spent an embarrassing amount of time "figuring it out" on my better days, i realize there is not much to figure out, that some people are not meant to be together. That's that. On lesser days i worry about why i still need affirmation about the relationship, need justification- i suppose and element of this is because we have children, the old fashioned idea that children are the living embodiment of the love between two people. And yet, had we not had children, i would still want to know if i ever held a special place for her special based on the simple reason of who i am.  She had never given that to me, or meted it out in such small, confusing  doses.

Others had, have- i know what i mean to Noire, no question at all and it is a comfortable place to be. Yet, why allow myself to be haunted by something that never would be, that never was?

On my simplest of days, i just need to hear The Land make some geeky comment about her latest internet obsession or listen to The Sea describe what she did in school that day to know that answer.

Exeunt

In Kurt Cobain's "Journals", he equates heroin addiction with how time elapses on a TV show. i am paraphrasing, but he talks about why it is so difficult to quit is because time between cravings is not fully experienced, much like how a scene occurs on a TV show, and is followed by another; a day could elapse but for the viewer it is only a few seconds. My last post was months ago- i'd like to explain it away in similar terms. Life goes n, and often i forget, or am not motivated, to comment on it. Still, i sped too much time playing Scrabble on my iPhone, or reading about defunct 80's bands, so clearly there is time to write about something. It's that something that bothers me.