Featherlight kisses
Skimming up her spine
Warm breath at her neck
Her head turns, shoulder arches
She smiles
Foreheads touch
Four eyes crinkle
Her body shudders once more
He chuckles
She floats
He lies
Again, and again
.
She shudders now at the memory
Again, and again
.
And again
Music for the Mood:
– Ani DiFranco
Not all days are cloudy. This has been a gorgeous weekend full of sunshine, blooms, reconnecting with old friends, and peace.
I wish there were more of these soft and sweet days and that they could last longer. I know that’s the nature of life – the ebb and flow. Every spring, always after the spring solstice, when the evening walks home still have bright rays of daylight and then some, there is always a point when I can almost viscerally feel the fog clear. The clouds break. The warmth of the sun penetrates into my soul and allows me to take a deep, cleansing breath. It isn’t permanent. It still takes a while to get back to homeostasis, to a more constant state of “up,” but there is nothing like that first deep, unlabored, freeing breath.
In these mellow, reflective, grateful moments, especially after a period of being sucked so far down into the grey depths, I think of that old Velvet Underground song.
“Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad”
Music for the Mood: Pale Blue Eyes – The Velvet Underground
I am heartbroken by the news of Taylor Hawkins’ death overnight. Just 50 years old.
Taylor was the drummer of my favorite band, Foo Fighters. I just read Dave’s autobiography this winter and saw their ridiculous horror movie last month. This band has been part of me for 25 years. I feel like I knew Taylor so well.
I’ve seen them so many times. Their first sold out arena show in DC in 2012 back when it was still Verizon Center, on The Mall in 2014, opening night at the Anthem in 2017, their first time at Merriweather in maybe 2017 or ‘18?, and I was looking forward to seeing them soon in Boston over Memorial Day with my brother and sister in just two months. I’d been waiting for that show since before the pandemic. Incredible to think the show will go on but, without the headliner. Or, so I assume. At least without Taylor. Though I can’t imagine how they go on anytime soon. I can’t fathom it.
This feels awful. It feels really heavy and unfair and, frankly, unbelievable. As much as I am hurting and sad, I cannot imagine what his wife and children and band mates are experiencing. I feel especially for Dave and Pat, who have both already had to deal with the tragic and shocking death of another friend and band mate. And for Dave, another icon. Let’s not debate the value of Kurt versus Taylor, okay? I’ve seen that (near-sighted and self-indulgent) slant and let’s just not go there. Either way, far more tragedy than any person deserves in this life.
For months now I’ve been saying that, at some point every day, and some times all day, I feel like I am one setback away from completely losing my shit. It is terrifying not to know what magnitude of stumble might be the one to push me over the edge. Could it be something catastrophic like another Ukraine, or KBJ not being confirmed to SCOTUS, or something very trivial like not being able to find my keys one morning, or being too hangry to make dinner? Or could it be losing a beloved titan of rock n roll?
I hate loss. I hate it so, so much.
It just keeps coming
Are you a little afraid?
A little alone?
A little exhausted?
Do you give it away?
Do you let go?
Where do you find it?
Don’t leave me drowning in your Sunday rain
It’s right down the drain, I go
Don’t leave me drowning in your Sunday rain
It’s always a shame, oh no
Music for the Mood: Sunday Rain – Foo Fighters
The music for the mood today is a FF song that Taylor and Dave often traded places for when they played live. I find myself hearing Taylor’s voice singing Sunday Rain this morning, singing these words while those hard rock chords pound through my chest. It does nothing to numb the pain but sometimes you need to just feel.
Fun fact: Sir Paul McCartney played drums on this track on the FF album. I just love the hell out of that.
You don’t generally think of him as a drummer. But he laid that track so fucking effortlessly. He never even heard the song – Dave kind of explained it to him with an acoustic guitar. And he was like, ‘Yeah, yeah. I think I know what you’re doing.’
Taylor Hawkins – From Rolling Stone, September 6, 2017
Stay, by the queen, Rihanna, and Mikky Ekko has always slayed me. I love every moment of it but I especially love these lyrics:
Funny you’re the broken one
But I’m the only one who needed saving
‘Cause when you never see the light
It’s hard to know which one of us is caving
Music for the Mood: Stay – Rihanna
I’ve been in private mode on my posts here for a minute. Losing a therapist I trusted, without warning, without a transition plan, really affected me. And I’ve been working through that, personally. There were some dark days.
The past few days though, I’ve received a few missed calls and I sense that someone else might be doing that caving now. Granted, my phone is set to ignore numbers I don’t recognize (which is problematic for both take out drivers and former lovers trying to holla) and, for a woman who no longer knows who in her life is real, this is an inconvenient but necessary layer of protection.
In the past two days, I received two missed calls from unknowns but, upon further investigation, realize that they came to my Google Voice number, which routes to my real phone. One came yesterday, from an un-Google-able, 571 area code — un-ironically in Falls Church, VA, where the handsome red head has family. And now another one, tonight, from “Anonymous.”
I am never going to pick up.
Because the call doesn’t come through. I only see it once it is missed. And, unless the “anonymous” coward leaves a message, I have no reason to respond.
I created that bogus GV number the morning I told John that I knew he was a lying, cheating bastard. A week later, the morning after I received John’s nauseating final text asking me to delete all the sensitive shit he stupidly left for me to discover, to leave her and her family out of it while he tried to put the pieces of them back together, and apparently only after reading what I sent them in the mail, I sent that GV number to his “other woman” via the also bogus email I created, so she could reach me if she wanted to fact check this cluster fuck of a situation, though the screenshots and photos I provided should have been plenty. I said that he had no right to ask that of me, but that I felt she deserved that courtesy. She never asked. Never bothered to contact me at all.
Anyway, I’ve shared that GV number with exactly two people. Him and her. We are all deep in this shit together so why be bashful?
But also, why, period? I’d surmise this outreach is prompted by the fact that I give zero fucks and have shared every blessed detail here, in this online journal, for them, for us, and for everyone who knows any of us. This journal is where I process life but, for the past few months, it’s also become a personal landfill of the truth. I don’t know where else to put the garbage. After I saw that she actually married him anyway, I shared the link on social media because truth is important to me, even if it clearly isn’t to him/them/their village. Are they embarrassed? Ashamed? Bashful behind an anonymous number? Why now?? It’s been nearly five months.
I’m conflicted about whether I want to know why they are calling, and who it is. I’m morbidly curious, of course, but also disaffected and jaded and over it all. But then also kind of looking for a resolution, if that is even remotely possible.
Do you think the other one even knows that they’ve called me? I doubt it. Forgive me for overstating the obvious but … Honesty isn’t exactly a hallmark of their relationship. Maybe he’s already destroyed theirs too. I hope she wised up and walked away.
I guess all I can say is…
Bring. It. On.
I’ve been a fighter for a long time now. Try me. I’ve got nothing but answers for you. Do you have any for me?
My therapist quit yesterday.
Sure, she said she sustained a sports injury and needs to scale down her practice to heal. And of course I hope she is okay and all that.
And it is also just one more person I trusted who is suddenly gone. No warning. No time to prepare or process.
Is it even worth it to try to find another one? To open myself up to yet another stranger?
I’d laugh at this point but I’m in another bout of disbelief.
Just how many hits is one human supposed to be able to take before they cannot get back up?
Tiger Lily Vegas 