thrice & oscar wilde

I used to love this thrice song called trust.  It had to grow on me back then, because I was into much harder music than that.  I HATED bright eyes at this time of my life.  The song starts, "mix the chemicals right dear, mix the chemicals right, the margin of air is slight(there's a risk when your dealing with love."
There was a risk, I tried to talk about it.  The song continues, "There is a risk, I know what betrayal can mean."  I told her repeatedly in the beginning, "love, I can deal with anything but betrayal."  Stab me in the front I said, I can deal with anything as long as you tell me about it love, I just can't deal with betrayal.  Yet, 2 years of betrayal.  Of course, as I've said and written here a million times, I knew what to expect, she lied to everyone, just saved the especially brutal lies for me.  I took them, I got the best lies, all of them, were for me.  Thank you S, for the lies.  Thank you for the fiction you gave me, you so rarely gave me your real, and led me to believe you were only giving me your real.  That was not the truth now was it love?  When laughing and out having fun, was that not real?  Is it more real to lie in the fetal position all night?  Is it more real to lie over and over and over and over and fucking over and fucking over and fucking over and over and over to my face day after fucking day after each fucking day over and over and over.  Is that fucking real?  Was it real to ignore everything I said?  Was it real to act like I nothing I had to say or feel was of importance?  Was that more fucking real?  Was it real to go months and fucking months now without saying one goddamned fucking word to me?  Can't say sorry?  Surprisingly, I don't hold high expectations for you, or for myself when it comes to you.  When I fucked you over, it was to your face.  Thanks for 2 years of lies, for 2 years of sleeping alone next to you.  Was it too much just to look at me one fucking time and say "I'm glad you are here," or "I feel sad, but I like having you with me."  Just once!?  A lot of partners wake up and hug or kiss their partner, or god forbid they fuck them.  I set the bar for you so mother fucking low that all I asked for was a goddamned "good morning."  But, that was too much for you wasn't it?  It would have set up a bad expectation that I deserved to be treated like a fucking human being.  Well now you have someone new, do you kiss his lips in the morning?  Do you say I love you before bed?  Do you hug him when you see him?  Do you surprise him ideas and hugs?  Because I will die alone in a hole, before I ever enter the masochistic hell that was two years with you.  I will jump off a fucking cliff a thousand times before ever engaging in a relationship in the way I did with you.  Being a full time masochist isn't quite what it is made out to be love, because I know you are one too. 

51 days and a datey-thing

So I marked 51 days when I woke up today.  I am hoping that by 100 I will stop counting.  I already forget for a day or two sometimes if I am keeping busy.  Speaking of being busy, that was my weekend.  On Friday I saw Frank Wilderson speak at Merritt College, and then helped get out 10k copies of a radical newspaper a friend of mine edits.  Then I hung with the Canadians who finally left on Sunday.  Saturday I shot bows and arrows with a primitivist couple I am friends with, then went to the city for the Eric McDavid event.  I even saw the guy she more or less cheated on me with for 2 years and managed not to punch his smug face, so that is a win.  Definitely sucked seeing him though. 

Sunday was by far and away the best day of the weekend though.  I spent the day recording the show with B, our sound guy I, and a friend C who jumped in on the show.  It was the most fun I've had doing the show in a long time, it was fucking great.  Then I met a new person, S, at another frank wilderson talk which we stayed at for a couple hours.  Then we got Thai food and had a fucking awesome conversation.  She called herself post-queer, and just seemed serious about being on top of her shit.  We discussed that we are both fixers, and I posited the idea that I was actually being selfish by being a fixer, and she seemed to take that in for a bit.  I was referring to the special feeling I got knowing that my ex hadn't discussed her various traumas with others  I did the right thing and suggested a therapist, that she talk to a friend, or her mom, but I still got the high of whatever ego stroke I wanted from being special.  We also discussed both of our mother's being narcissists with martyr complexes, although that manifested in very different ways.  It was one of the best conversations I have ever had with a person I just met.  I dropped her off at bart, gave her a hug, and drove home.  Thinking back on last night, I am struck by how we discussed the idea of being present in a really interesting way.  She talked about her life, and her relationships, and how many of them ending up being fucked because of all the talk and focus on the past and future, which negated the moment.  So, as I sit here really excited about the idea of hanging out again, talking more, getting to know each other, etc, I am trying to remind myself that last night in and of itself showed me that in the moment I can connect with someone, that there are other people taking seriously(with a huge dose of humor) and trying to engage in relationships and friendships which are real and not giver/taker relationships.  So ya, last night was fucking awesome!

on friends

friendship for me is becoming more and more based on affinity, but that takes many forms.  Political affinity(which for me means being anti political) is just one form.  Most others are based on being interesting, funny, and having a similar sense of humor. I've had two visitors in my place from Canada for the past few weeks.  The great thing about having guests so frequently is that I get to make all sorts of connections with people with somewhat different experiences than me and they also can look on me and my friends and see things with a different perspective, and I in turn can look at their situation with my outsider perspective.  There is something valuable in this, at least while mired completed in society and it's bullshit.  Either way, they leave tomorrow morning and I will be sad.  We had a 2 month guest from Barcelona who I still think of often, because of the friendship he and I were able to development in a relatively short amount of time.  I will miss them, but their time here was awesome, and underscores to me how being stuck in linear time(in my mind) so much of my day is such bullshit, and can negatively effect my life.  I was talking to another roommate about being committed and staying in certain relationships for too long.  She stayed with someone who straight up told her one day on a walk, "I don't think I like you that much."  I stayed with someone who told me to my face, "I hate you."  Both of our stories are complicated by the complex thing a human being is, and by the fact that relationships between humans are even more complex, but there is still something there.  Why this desire for longevity in a life that is so brief and easily ended?  Do we stay in relationships because we are fighting death?  Do I stay in relationships out of some battle against my own mortality?  Do I believe in a life/death dichotomy?  Is that a wingnut theory?  I don't have good answers to these questions.  I only have more questions and more complications. 

LET IT BE BROKE!

i will release myself, from you
i will detach myself, from you
i won't tell you what you wanna hear, I will show you what's real
I will, I will defy

48 days

48 days mother fuckers.  Making shit happen, like playing Chutulu Wars with roommates and out of town guests, like working a job, like making the radio every week, like not hurting myself no matter how much I want to.  Making shit happen.

writing more

Sick of these dreams, sick of sleeping during the day, slightly happy about writing more, ready to be fucking done.  Months of no message, no email, dating other people, fuck that.  Fuck her narratives, fuck my narratives, there was no choice but to let her go and if she wanted to come back I told her the way, so it is time to fucking blow it up.  It is time to be done with dreams, naive hopes, all that crap, fuck T swift songs, it is time to save up money, act from my strength and center, and fucking do.  It is time.

pain

falling asleep is a pain journey, nights are the worst.

46 days and some dreams

I went to Bolinas with a couple friends visiting from Canada and two housemates.  We stayed at a ridiculous, silly, little house near the ocean.  We shared it with an elderly couple, Susan and Alan.  They warned us they were light sleepers.  We spent the night walking around the beach, having beers, and caber tossing giant pieces of wood.  I lucked into the full bed to myself, but found her again in my dreams.  They are always hyper real, she is always dating someone else, which doesn't seem necessary to dream about since it is a reality, and I always feel shitty about it.  It is time I confront the thoughts or feelings that lead to these nightmares, because it is making sleep extremely unpleasant. 

I wish

As a poet friend of mine wrote 
"being in love is worse than being in jail-  
you can't see the walls."

He also wrote this, which describes her and I better than I could:

These are the types of things I say to her:
"honey honey
love you dearest 
sweet nothing sweet nothing"
but she is skeptical of me.
Last week we got in a fight and I said 
       "do you see me as your enemy?"
   
        "sometimes!" she replied,
as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

and there's no arguing with that, in fact, 
I think she is smart to be so skeptical, and see me as her enemy, 
and keep me at arms length, 
she has a talent for self-preservation. 
she is an expert at the icy silence
i am an expert at running my mouth for no reason.

when the words run out
i hear my breath feeding back through the microphone, 
and separately
we contemplate the radiation of a cellphone to the head. 

She has a talent for self-preservation which manifests in a slow and cruel self destruction.  I like to get on fast trains, breaking arms as I run and jump and hold on, ride them off the tracks, down the hill, burn as they crash in fire, flames reach toward heaven, I melt off sticky lava earth, leaving parts of me stuck in places I wanted to be, and walk away with scars that will be burned again, the next time I leap onto another train going too fast for me, headed toward a crash with or without me

forgive from those we hurt in this world never was guaranteed

Just home from a non-date with a chello playing anarchist friend.  I told her a month and a half ago I didn't wanna fuck anymore and was taking a break from dating/fucking.  She is still into hanging out with is nice.  One of her lover type people was at the show and it was all good.  We saw Pat the Bunny at the Gilman, he was great.  One of the lines that Pat totally sleighs me with is "forgive from those we have hurt in this world never was guaranteed."   Yes, she hurt me, a lot, and wantonly sometimes, and aggressively other times, and at other times just because I would take it.  Even if I were to detail all of them, they wouldn't take away the  pain I caused her, because I did, and sometimes because she put in a terrible place, and sometimes because she hurt me, and sometimes because I wanted to because of that hurt she caused me, and sometimes because I was selfish.  I don't know if she will forgive me, or if she has, or has plans to.  I do know though, that it is not guaranteed.  I hope to one day forgive her, and there are things she could do, that would make that quick and easier, but I realize there is a good chance it will have to happen on my own.  I dream that one day I will choose to forgive her, and love her from afar if I must.  

Pat also sang another line in a song I hadn't heard before.  It went like this,
"There's a darkness in my bones,
it reaches all the way down to the mud,
there's a spark that's in your eyes,
it catches flame,
and it burns all through my blood."

There is a darkness in my bones that runs through me and there was a spark that set fire in her eyes, and it burned me.  It wasn't a good or bad thing, it was burning.  Burning is the most painful thing a human can endure, but it is also the thing that allows us to flame and shoot up and free and melt away anything we wish to destroy in ourselves or outside of ourselves, and I miss burning in her fire.  

More of the same

I notch a 43rd tally on the bookshelf sitting in front of my face.  I think of her, probably getting him something nicer and more thoughtful than what she gave me last year.  I lament ,being alone, but take solace in friends gifting me candies with a sense of humor.  My soul is broken, but I have shoddily glued and taped the pieces back together and I will make it hold.  Tonight, I see Pat the Bunny and hopefully interview him for the radio show.  Things have been spiraly since I found out my close friend saw her.  I know it was nothing, but for some reason it sent me back reeling into a hole that I have worked hard to get myself out of.  Today I miss her and love her, but there are also others I miss and love.  And there are those close to me who I love, and since they are choosing me and I choose them, I will put my energy there.  She didn't choose me, she always kept a backup, a fallout plan, a safety net, and never chose me. 

the same

despite a full day of work an dinner and hanging til late with 6 friends, I go to sleep feeling the same anger and sadness, and the sadness is weighing heavy enough to know to be scared of myself

40 days

It's been 40 days and I just got done hanging with one of my closest friends.  I guess he hung out with her.  I asked not to know details.  I can't say exactly why, but I am full of rage in this moment.  I am upset she hangs with one of my best friends, but can't muster a simple email or call to me.  I want to cry, but can't.  I want to let out my anger, but can't.  Things felt so real to me.  On some level they still do.  Walking home from a bar, my friend mentioned his partner.  I said "god, i can't even imagine using the word partner,"  meaning that I can't see myself having a partner.  Maybe that is partially because I so deeply considered her my partner that I can't seem to let go of that idea, even though it no longer holds relevance.  Maybe it is because I have cut out dating and sex completely for a while, choosing to focus on friends projects and personal growth. Maybe I am just deeply in love with her still and it will just take time, or meeting someone else.  The truth is that I don't know.  The other truth is that I miss her so much it hurts.  I catch myself wishing she was laying in my bed as I typed, playing with her cat or reading, and I am rubbing her leg as I write, sharing space, being intimate, being affectionate, FUCK.  I still know I made the right choice, because if she really wanted to be with me she had a million chances to write to me, to call me, to message me, to show that she cared about lying to me and hurting me.  In my weaker moments, I find myself fighting not to hold to ideas of justice and fairness.  I find myself thinking it is unfair for her to be in a relationship with someone else, not asking them for the huge and impossible things she asked of me, not looking at through trauma, kissing them, hugging them, being kind and honest to them.  I think of those things as possibilities and obsess on how unfair and wrong it is, that she could hurt me and just move on and be better to someone else.  I know chaos reigns, and justice and fairness are imaginary, but I haven't been able to clear my mind of them, especially when its 1am in the morning and I am feeling so much pain.  The idea of never seeing her, never being intimate with her, physically and emotionally, are punches to the gut, knives to the kidneys, a pain that is unending.  FUCK.  Tomorrow I start again, 41st day, hoping to find timelessness, hoping to create joy for myself, hoping to accept myself completely while at the same time being ready open and striving for change and to have better friendships and relationship.  But sometimes I just wish she was here, so I didn't have to miss her another night. 

PS

It's between 38 days without contact of any kind, including even a peek at social media or asking a mutual friend a question.  Still have the feels though.

I woke up

I woke up to another nightmare about her.  I have been having trouble sleeping lately, probably because I have been less on top of my food choices, eating lots of candy, instead of the salad thing I was on for a bit.
I dreamed she was with someone else, sleeping with him even! the shock! the surprise! the horror!  Even though it feels silly now at 3pm, at 8am it was not so silly.  I cleaned my room today, searching for my birth certificate(which I didn't find) and came across a few things she wrote me.  A few of the notes were apologizing for hurting me, taking things out on me, telling me she appreciated the nights I stayed up with her, telling me she appreciated how hard I tried to understand her and promising she would do the same for me, telling me how much she loves me.  I still love her, madly, wildly.  I haven't been dating for a month and a half now, I am writing more than I have in years, halfway through two long pieces, one about us, another about my political(read: apolitical) journey through Hawaii, SF, Oakland, and through the scene of anti-oppression politix and liberal leftism to anarchy.  I bought a white board, I have checked off half of the goals for today, and have a long list of long term goals.  I am reading Hermann Broch, one of the most beautiful and challenging works I have ever read.  I don't think I was ready emotionally or intellectually to read The Death of Virgil til now, but it feels right, now.  My autonomy is freeing me up creatively and intellectually, able now to learn and fight and grow and challenge others and myself more relentlessly than ever, ready to look existential dread right in the fucking face, but am I ready to look her in the face?

in closing, an excerpt from Hermann Broch, a piece of a 4 page sentence:

...for man needed the realization of futility,
he must accept its dread, the dread of all error,
and recognizing it, he must drain it to the dregs,
he must assimilate it,
not in self-torment, but rather
that through such conscious assimilation
the dread might be expunged,
only thus might one pass through the horny portal of dread and achieve existence...

things that would be nice

debts cleared
a pile of money
continue not having cancer
radio studio fully up and running with livestream from my warehouse
good waves
finding a tennis partner
hearing from her
a hug
a slow hard kiss
someone buying my shitty civic
to have more progression at guitar
a better source of money, i.e. not a wage job
to continue to develop friendships that I have
to have more contact with old friends
mutually desired cuddling. 

full nihilism

I think I am good at dating.  I am funny, intelligent, have a billion interests, but I think there is something I am missing.  Being on hiatus from dating people and fucking is strange.  I miss her still.  I don't even know if we would like each other anymore because of our politix and the shit between us, but when I really like someone it feels like there is something more.  It isn't that politix are irrelevant or unimportant, but somlething else just seems to feel more important.  I wish I was cuddling someone I liked or loved right now.  Instead I have weed and ice cream and writing.  I have work tomorrow, I have the radio show this weekend, I have my loneliness always.  Tonight I feel like a full nihilist, like I have left the rest behind.  Fuck.

as I

As I was trying to fall asleep I was struck by one of those thoughts that sneaks up on you and truly surprises you.  I thought to myself how fucking sad and awful the idea of never seeing her again is.  And just as bad, the thought that we might not hold or lay with each other, or share our lives again.  As I notch a 35th day of total material separation(except for a glance at an inscription on a book),  I grieve for our future. 

31 days

That's all of January mother fuckers.  I continue to be in conflict with my closest friend.  He seems to think sending emails to other friends calling me narcissistic is reasonable.  I think that is unreasonable.  He seems to have no desire to say thanks for doing the work to get him and his partner to move into my house, even though they complained upon arrival, and then moved out 2 weeks later.  He seems to feel some sense of entitlement to hang out with people I have developed relationships with over the last year.  He seems to have zero desire to show any gratitude for any of this.  I seem to have a giant fucking problem with this.  Fuck that.  Fuck talking shit to people's close friends when you barely know them and have hung out with them only a handful of times.  Did he think I wouldn't hear about it?  Does he not realize I am actually friends with the people I call friends.  Fuck that. 

On a separate note, my Saturday was pretty rad.  I had time to myself all day then surfed til the sun set at ocean beach with my friend J.  He is awesome.  We also spent all of Friday night hanging out on his boat in the 5th ave marina, shooting the shit and pissing into the bay.  I miss him sometimes, since he lives in Santa Cruz now.  After surfing we met my friend YJY and her partner for dinner, which was pretty hilarious.  Then we tried to meet an old friend of mine A but she blew us off so we played darts with some random hipsters until J's partner met with us and then we headed back to Oakland, where I lounged in a roommate's room and talked for an hour or two and now I write this after having coffee with another friend in our downstairs kitchen.  That feels like a full life to me. 

To be honest though, I definitely had some moments of concern about running into her when I was in the Mission.  I think I wanted to.  I have some feeling from her social media(which I haven't seen in 31 days) that she has some sf hipster bf.  That makes me sad, that simple.  The idea of her liking someone enough to really date hurts me and makes it hard not to feel that our relationship is invalidated, even though it is hard to call what we had a relationship.  While walking down 16th and then Valencia, I told J I was worried about running into her.  He then asked what made it such a big deal, since he seems to move on once a relationship is over.  I said I dunno, I don't have a good answer for that, it is just a feeling.