Love is the worst feeling in the world.
It's like that first line, the bump in the bathroom stall at midnight to keep you going until last call. A sweet rush of adrenaline and pleasure, opening your eyes and dilating your pupils so you see colors and space and time in ways that you never thought possible. Speeding up your pulse. Every touch explodes in sensation. Every kiss an orgasm. Every look over the shoulder, every smile, every brush of hair tingling the nerves and rushing blood to the skin.
Then you crash.
Everything falls apart, you lose the sensation, you close your eyes again. Colors fade and dim. You numb. All you want is that rush again, that feeling in your veins and nerve endings. You can't sleep without the warm skin next to yours. You can't focus on work, on school, on getting out of bed in the morning without that quickened pulse. The glass isn't just half-empty, it's shattered on the floor, drops of water spreading across the tile.
Love songs brush past this fact. Love songs present it as butterflies and doves and singing from the trees and rose bushes and seagulls cawing over a romantic picnic on the beach. Love songs written by some anonymous person somewhere and sold to a record company and sang by a pretty face with a good image and a stylist and a publicist and a designer and a fragrance line sold in major department stores in every mall.
All I want is another white line right now.
4.27.2007
dazed and confused
The ex got wasted last night and decided to message me. Most random conversation ever, full of mixed messages and confusing thoughts. She loves me, wants me to be her best friend, can't imagine living in a world where I'm not happy and living my dreams. She told me what my dream was. Her new boyfriend is honest and nice and would never cheat on her. Her dog shit on the rug. She met a girl who was the same major and also tried to kill herself once. She loves the world, loves everyone, but doesn't love herself. She's giving back all the jewelry I gave her. She went to bed. She got up. Some girl called her boyfriend four times tonight. That girl is a whore. She doesn't want me to die in Iraq. She would kill herself. She might marry her new boyfriend, but she says she says that about everyone because she's insecure. Her new boyfriend is cheating on her, she checked his phone, he was picking up some girl.
I was left dazed and confused. I still love her. Can't imagine being without her and would drop everything in my life if only I could be with her. Want to see her happy. Want her to love herself. Want to be with her forever. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond, didn't know... well, anything. I was just sort of sitting in stunned silence during this whole conversation, feeling so out of touch and out of the loop and for once, not able to say anything to make it better. I wish I could just pour out all the words that I was thinking and feeling and just touch her hand and make all the problems go away and everything all right like it was before. The distance just builds up more and more every day for me, crushing the soul that I am so far away from everything and everyone and everyplace I love and cherish and care about and the things and people and places that make my soul happy. I don't want to be here.
currently listening: regina spektor - bartender
I was left dazed and confused. I still love her. Can't imagine being without her and would drop everything in my life if only I could be with her. Want to see her happy. Want her to love herself. Want to be with her forever. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond, didn't know... well, anything. I was just sort of sitting in stunned silence during this whole conversation, feeling so out of touch and out of the loop and for once, not able to say anything to make it better. I wish I could just pour out all the words that I was thinking and feeling and just touch her hand and make all the problems go away and everything all right like it was before. The distance just builds up more and more every day for me, crushing the soul that I am so far away from everything and everyone and everyplace I love and cherish and care about and the things and people and places that make my soul happy. I don't want to be here.
currently listening: regina spektor - bartender
4.23.2007
trainwreck
This weekend = trainwreck. Well, more like a 3 or 4 day span of time encompassing a weekend at some point.
Thursday was easy - pizza and pitchers at Magoo's, some good music (for the most part, get to that in one second), and a great Hawaii night. About the music - for some reason, someone played Iron & Wine's cover of "Such Great Heights" on the jukebox. At a college bar. On a Thursday night. While it is a good song (I do believe I prefer it to the Postal Service version, and it's one of the songs I had planned on playing at my wedding - yes, I had planned music for my wedding, is that gay or is that just romantic? Don't answer that.), I'm not sure it's "college bar on a loud drunken night" music. Maybe more "let's smoke a bowl and watch Garden State and cuddle on the couch until I fumble around with your jeans buttons and awkwardly grope your crotch" music. Moving on.
After Magoo's it was a quick trip over to a sports bar to meet some buddies - to be fair, no sports are actually playing on a Thursday night at 10PM in Hawaii (4AM to you East Coast folks), but they had a cover band that a friend of mine is in love with (well, to be fair, she's trying to fuck the lead singer, this guy who kind of looks like a clown without makeup). A few cheers of "let's go Hokies" from various bar folks (I was rocking the Blacksburg shirt for about the 4th day in a row), including a cute blond girl in a sarong named Lizbeth (or was it Elizabeth? Or what?) who smiled at me all night and yelled it several times but when I went to talk to her ran away to go flirt with the singer in the band. Musicians get all the girls, apparently. I hope he grasps his D-list Honolulu fame for the next few minutes, because I'm not sure it's so attractive to girls to be the lead singer in a cover band at an empty bar every Thursday night.
Friday was hangover time. Day off of work, too, which was nice. Popped about 20 Ibuprofen and I was back on track - just relaxed down on the beach (for about an hour, my friends were in town and both are pale redheads who apparently have much in common with vampires), then some good dinner downtown and a little bit of barhopping. I've now realized that I need to go out with cool couples more often - I could pound beers with my buddy, while his wife wandered the bar bumping into cute girls that I had expressed a "hey that girl's hot with all her friends and totally ignoring me" interest in and making it totally cool to talk to them. (I know this makes me sound like I have no "game" or "skillz" or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but honestly, it's more like "apparently just going up and saying hi my name is blank no longer works so well all the time".) Which led to a beautiful brunette with an amazing low cut top and high cut skirt to come over to the table and then go dance with me, at which point she made sure to tell me how she was from the Yay Area and her cousin was in love with me and had slapped my ass and she had a boyfriend who was a really good guy and didn't mind her dancing with other guys. Apparently dancing means "when you jokingly go low to the floor I'm going to throw my leg over your shoulder and thrust my lace-thong covered crotch into your face." I wasn't complaining. When we left, my buddy's wife got the girl's number to call her the next day, and then promptly closed her phone without saving it in a drunken mess. So no number saved, even as the girl was telling me how she loved her boyfriend and sucked on my neck. Awesome. I was tempted to post something on CL's "Missed Connections" board in a hungover haze until I realized that is sort of... sad. Honestly.
Saturday was Jack Johnson and others down in Waikiki. Carried a cooler about halfway across the city filled with beer, then proceeded to double fist them in a park outside the concert hall for 3 or so hours. Around 45 beers total. My parents showed up and hung out, I showed them not only a nice park view of Waikiki but also what a functioning blackout their son can be. I honestly don't remember walking into the concert, but apparently I was quite coherent at times, even so much that the beer vendors in the concert sold me more beer without asking if A) I was all right or B) I was alive. This meant that at some point during Eddie Vedder's set I was curled up on the ground looking like I had cerebral palsy while texting all my friends that "paarl jam rocks" and then repeating what they wrote back to me. I don't know. I did sing along - a lot, so much so that I still don't have much of a voice. Even to songs that I have never heard nor know the words to. I also almost fell over a step several times (a step that I believe I created in my mind to justify not being able to stand up) and almost tackling my mom. After that I start remembering things again, then we headed off to a bar, where I drank a few more beers and took pictures with random girls because it was their birthday and took pictures of girls that I didn't know just to piss them off and sang along to Journey. Then someone in the group wanted to go to Denny's so we ate breakfast and stared at some girl's boobs in her low cut top, and my married buddy took a video of her with his video camera so we would remember it in the morning. His wife found this humorous, which means I need an awesome wife like that.
Surprisingly, Sunday I was not that hungover. I also didn't crawl out of bed until 1, or leave my house until approximately 4:30PM. We watched a lot of MTV, ate a lot of waffles and orange juice, and played a few games of Wii bowling. Luau at night, at which I'm sure I was entirely too antisocial, mostly because the last time I went to the luau was with her and it was one of the greatest nights of my entire life and this whole thing just reminded me too much of that. My folks understood though once I explained it, and they didn't push the point. Went to bed early - I wanted to go out drinking, but I don't think my body would be able to handle it. I was already teasing a sore throat and a cough and a general body ache, and another night of boozing my face off into oblivion would probably just push me over the edge.
So basically, an amazing weekend. Rereading this I realize just how good it really was, and just how much of the good stuff I probably was blacked out during. I also realize that I am a huge fan of run-on sentences and will use them for the rest of my life, despite the fact that I know better and always got A's in English class (even the one with the weird hippie professor who smelled kind of like patchouli oil and Old Spice aftershave).
currently listening: jack johnson - broken
Thursday was easy - pizza and pitchers at Magoo's, some good music (for the most part, get to that in one second), and a great Hawaii night. About the music - for some reason, someone played Iron & Wine's cover of "Such Great Heights" on the jukebox. At a college bar. On a Thursday night. While it is a good song (I do believe I prefer it to the Postal Service version, and it's one of the songs I had planned on playing at my wedding - yes, I had planned music for my wedding, is that gay or is that just romantic? Don't answer that.), I'm not sure it's "college bar on a loud drunken night" music. Maybe more "let's smoke a bowl and watch Garden State and cuddle on the couch until I fumble around with your jeans buttons and awkwardly grope your crotch" music. Moving on.
After Magoo's it was a quick trip over to a sports bar to meet some buddies - to be fair, no sports are actually playing on a Thursday night at 10PM in Hawaii (4AM to you East Coast folks), but they had a cover band that a friend of mine is in love with (well, to be fair, she's trying to fuck the lead singer, this guy who kind of looks like a clown without makeup). A few cheers of "let's go Hokies" from various bar folks (I was rocking the Blacksburg shirt for about the 4th day in a row), including a cute blond girl in a sarong named Lizbeth (or was it Elizabeth? Or what?) who smiled at me all night and yelled it several times but when I went to talk to her ran away to go flirt with the singer in the band. Musicians get all the girls, apparently. I hope he grasps his D-list Honolulu fame for the next few minutes, because I'm not sure it's so attractive to girls to be the lead singer in a cover band at an empty bar every Thursday night.
Friday was hangover time. Day off of work, too, which was nice. Popped about 20 Ibuprofen and I was back on track - just relaxed down on the beach (for about an hour, my friends were in town and both are pale redheads who apparently have much in common with vampires), then some good dinner downtown and a little bit of barhopping. I've now realized that I need to go out with cool couples more often - I could pound beers with my buddy, while his wife wandered the bar bumping into cute girls that I had expressed a "hey that girl's hot with all her friends and totally ignoring me" interest in and making it totally cool to talk to them. (I know this makes me sound like I have no "game" or "skillz" or whatever the kids are calling it these days, but honestly, it's more like "apparently just going up and saying hi my name is blank no longer works so well all the time".) Which led to a beautiful brunette with an amazing low cut top and high cut skirt to come over to the table and then go dance with me, at which point she made sure to tell me how she was from the Yay Area and her cousin was in love with me and had slapped my ass and she had a boyfriend who was a really good guy and didn't mind her dancing with other guys. Apparently dancing means "when you jokingly go low to the floor I'm going to throw my leg over your shoulder and thrust my lace-thong covered crotch into your face." I wasn't complaining. When we left, my buddy's wife got the girl's number to call her the next day, and then promptly closed her phone without saving it in a drunken mess. So no number saved, even as the girl was telling me how she loved her boyfriend and sucked on my neck. Awesome. I was tempted to post something on CL's "Missed Connections" board in a hungover haze until I realized that is sort of... sad. Honestly.
Saturday was Jack Johnson and others down in Waikiki. Carried a cooler about halfway across the city filled with beer, then proceeded to double fist them in a park outside the concert hall for 3 or so hours. Around 45 beers total. My parents showed up and hung out, I showed them not only a nice park view of Waikiki but also what a functioning blackout their son can be. I honestly don't remember walking into the concert, but apparently I was quite coherent at times, even so much that the beer vendors in the concert sold me more beer without asking if A) I was all right or B) I was alive. This meant that at some point during Eddie Vedder's set I was curled up on the ground looking like I had cerebral palsy while texting all my friends that "paarl jam rocks" and then repeating what they wrote back to me. I don't know. I did sing along - a lot, so much so that I still don't have much of a voice. Even to songs that I have never heard nor know the words to. I also almost fell over a step several times (a step that I believe I created in my mind to justify not being able to stand up) and almost tackling my mom. After that I start remembering things again, then we headed off to a bar, where I drank a few more beers and took pictures with random girls because it was their birthday and took pictures of girls that I didn't know just to piss them off and sang along to Journey. Then someone in the group wanted to go to Denny's so we ate breakfast and stared at some girl's boobs in her low cut top, and my married buddy took a video of her with his video camera so we would remember it in the morning. His wife found this humorous, which means I need an awesome wife like that.
Surprisingly, Sunday I was not that hungover. I also didn't crawl out of bed until 1, or leave my house until approximately 4:30PM. We watched a lot of MTV, ate a lot of waffles and orange juice, and played a few games of Wii bowling. Luau at night, at which I'm sure I was entirely too antisocial, mostly because the last time I went to the luau was with her and it was one of the greatest nights of my entire life and this whole thing just reminded me too much of that. My folks understood though once I explained it, and they didn't push the point. Went to bed early - I wanted to go out drinking, but I don't think my body would be able to handle it. I was already teasing a sore throat and a cough and a general body ache, and another night of boozing my face off into oblivion would probably just push me over the edge.
So basically, an amazing weekend. Rereading this I realize just how good it really was, and just how much of the good stuff I probably was blacked out during. I also realize that I am a huge fan of run-on sentences and will use them for the rest of my life, despite the fact that I know better and always got A's in English class (even the one with the weird hippie professor who smelled kind of like patchouli oil and Old Spice aftershave).
currently listening: jack johnson - broken
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