Tag: nostalgia

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personal

Elsewho

Dreaming of my possible pasts

© Roy A. Hammond/WLIW New York

Rain: Can I borrow your phone?
Me: (absentmindedly) Sure.
Rain: Here you go.
Me: Thanks. Hey – what’d you do?
Rain: Nuthin! So paranoid…

My mind’s elsewhere, and elsewho, again. At least it’s the weekend.

I’m in a 300 year old building in Passau that’s been converted to apartments. The ceilings are high with wooden floors and painted on the entire far wall is a pop art portrait of a blond girl crying. Honey and Katherine are there. We’d just gotten back from Vienna. A woman I love is there too. She whispers her nonsense word into my ear and I whisper mine back. We’re having an early dinner of pasta when Marvin Gaye comes on.

Honey shrieks, and jumps onto the table to dance when my girl pulls me up and says, “You too” as I laugh and follow. She smiles, turns back to me and says – (phone alarm rings, it’s 5:15AM in NYC)

Me: (sit up and look groggily at phone) Dammit Rain…dammit…

Fall back into bed and plot revenge against Rain. Sigh. Toss off covers. Flip on Ghosts of Goodbye and start doing situps as ghosts fade away.

Eins, zwei, drei…

Location: 19:00 yest, Malachy’s with Heidi and Buckley
Mood: sotted
Music: I used to go out to parties and stand around

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personal

It’s better my way

My fear is my only courage

In Marley’s “No Woman No Cry,” he’s got a line that goes:

My feet is my only carriage.

But if you listen to it, it sounds more like:

My fear is my only courage.

Since I was a kid, I misheard it. Figures. My life as a kid was all wrong.

You know, back then, I was so poor and so fat, only really had four shirts. It’s all we could afford. All my fat ass could fit. Red. Yellow. Brown-striped. And this god-awful sky blue velvet one.

Hey – betcha I got more clothes than you.

I got more clothes than anyone I’ve ever met. Anyone. And I meet a lotta folk. Statement of fact, that’s all.

Cause when I made some scratch, I bought clothes. Like 200+ ties. Not cheap ties, the good stuff. Man, I don’t even wear ties. All I do is wear jeans and tee-shirts, now. Finally grew outta it, I guess.

But you never grow outta that deep fear, do you? That deep fear that makes no @#$ sense. The fear that I’ll wake up and be this fat, poor, lonely dork in sixth grade again.

You know, my classmates threw rocks at me? Seriously, rocks.

No lie, this latest drama’s no fun. But when you’re in sixth grade and your classmates think stoning you’s high sport, well, that preps you for pretty much anything.

Don’t want pity. Don’t want charity. I just want a sec. Just gimme a sec – catch my breath, get on my feet. If you wanna do something for me, buy me some rum when you see me. Otherwise,

I’ll share with you – you see, my fear yeah? Is my only courage.
Well, yes, I’ve got to push on through.
But while I’m gone, everything’s gonna be all right.

 

Location: my apartment, all day
Mood: hopeful
Music: don’t shed no tears

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personal

Remembering Snow Angels and Lynda

Location: 10:00 PM, yest, fencing in Manhattan
Mood: contemplative
Music: and I say goodbye na zai jian

My college English teacher, Stewart O’Nan was a good fella and an amazing teacher. He once said to me, “Your stuff is good. Just…work on it.” I still remember. His novel, Snow Angels was just made into a film with Kate Beckinsale. I was lucky, I think, because I had a string of really good English teachers people in my life.

Paul used to have a B-Team of friends that were fun but he learned that you should only have an A-Team because you only got so much time and energy.

Remember when I said that your friends are mirrors to yourself? If you’ve changed and your friends haven’t, maybe it’s time to start cutting. Or call the ones that matter.

I should have called Stewart. Had his digits – just never got around to it. He was a good guy. Probably won’t remember me now.

But I remember him.

———-

Thomas Mann once said that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.

Lynda was murdered ten years ago by a guy in my college circle of friends. My friends who knew her well never talk about it but it’s always there.

She and I only met a few times so it was more consoling my friends than anything else. But I did want to write something – if only to confirm that what the reporter wrote was true. She was beautiful.

Yeah, call your friends that matter.

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personal

Postcards and Peanut Butter

Location: 9:00 yest, the subway platform, waiting
Mood: yep, still sick
Music: I’ll get over you, I know I will

I think Life’s talking to me again. The Grey-Eyed Girl and Berlingirl told me I should listen. I’m trying.

I blog less these days so it doesn’t become a daily bitch-fest (Let’s see what minor disaster befell Logan today).

From 1994 to 2001, I pretty much disappeared. I made a sick amount of money, worked out constantly, traveled everywhere and wrote like you couldn’t believe – like Ted Kaczynski on crack. Somewhere between page 1 and 972, I squeezed in law school, a fairly successful nightclub business, a few published works and 3.5 relationships.

Through it all, my family was there, but I expected that. But I was a bit surprised that my friends always were too. There’s this old joke that you have friends because you can’t pick your family. I can see that.

I bring this all up because some college buddies called me outta blue last week to check up on me. Bryson also stopped by last night to buy me dinner. And The Laura, Betts, someone that doesn’t want to be mentioned and Daiseefut all recently sent me postcards.

Plus, my church was talking about Job again, the ‘rents are strangely insightful and I’m having these deep philosophical discussions in the weirdest joints. Odder still, two people I’ve not seen in at least 14 years randomly reached out to me; one today when I was eating my dinner of peanut butter outta the jar with a metal spoon. I was so surprised, I dropped the spoon.

So yeah, I think Life’s telling me something and, like I said, I’m trying to listen.

I’m trying awfully hard.

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personal

Sue and the King

Location: 14:00 yest, being poked on 33rd & Lex
Mood: stressed
Music: its bad in December When they play those Christmas songs

By the time you read this, I should be about here.

An ex popped into my head today on the drive home. She’s happily living in London with her new fella. I told her two summers ago that I would take a picture of my place and send it to her since it changed so much and she couldn’t picture it. I never got around to it.

I always think of her around this time because we traveled together for the holidays. She and I got along great but it just wasn’t right.

I really should take that pic of my apartment and email it to her but I never do. It’s kinda nice at times when people pop into your head for no reason – like they stopped by for a cup of tea or something.

Me: Stay, stay…just for a bit. I have Earl Grey and something sweet.
Her: OK, just for a bit.

I miss her; not so much the romance part but the friend part. I think that’s what I always miss with every ex.

This song makes me laugh but the King was right, few things are as good as Susan when she tried.

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personal

Eponine

We are all we know

The subway’s never empty. Unless you’re an insomniac. Then they’re empty a hellva lot.

———-

Thought about some of the people I’ve met recently and in the not-so-distant past. For some strange reason, I also thought of a girl I dated once. It’s the fall.

Part of the reason I think I liked her was because she said that every person that ever went out with her treated her like crap (I’m weird like that). When she told me that, I thought of Eponine from Les Mis.

The book’s a little different from the musical. In the book, there’s this one scene where she’s tossed a stale piece of bread. Starving, she pounces on it like a crazed animal. The hard bread hurts her teeth but she says that she knows the bread is good because it’s hard.

See, Eponine has no concept that there’s such a thing as bread that’s not rotten and not hard. It’s all she knows.

Tried to treat the ex nicely – never did find out if she she thought I did. Random, right?

As for me, well, my friends think I’m lucky because so many people enter and exit my Venn Diagram.

I’m not sure. You see, it’s all I know…

Location: 20:30, getting caught in some rain in Bayside
Mood: exhausted
Music: through the clouds Memories come rushing up to meet me now

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personal

Exactly two years in spite of the misery

Life is sweet, despite of the misery

My mom bought me sushi today. Pity sushi from my mother. This is what it’s come to.

One Dragon Roll, one Shrimp Tempura Roll, one Spicy Tuna Roll.

Pity Sushi. The next best thing to Third Date, It’s Late, Do You Wanna Crash At My Pad, Sushi.

———-

Forgot to mention that when I arrived in Munich, the customs officer took my passport and asked me if I had been in Germany before. I nodded so he flipped through it.

Then he looked up at me and asked, Is today a special day for you?

No, I said, not particularly. Why?

Because you came here exactly two years ago. I thought maybe you had an anniversary here. I didn’t believe him so he showed me. It was true: October 5th, 2005 and October 5th, 2007.

What a coincidence.

Was that really two years ago that I went to Berlin with my ex? We’ve been split up for that long? I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t.

Ah, what does it matter? Life is sweet, in spite of the misery.

Location: 12PM yest., having an enormous salad on my couch
Mood: slightly hopeful
Music: Wanna hide from the vicious world outside But don’t

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personal

What I remember

9/11 made me believe in evil things again

So, I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Wasn’t planning on writing anything – every two-bit hack with a computer writes something about the day and I didn’t wanna be another one.

But here I am. Makes sense; I am a two-bit hack with a computer.

I’ve lived here my whole life. I had one of my first elementary school class trips to see those buildings. I remember I was scared to look up at them because I thought they might fall on me.

After college I worked on the 2nd Floor. Wheelock NatWest. Then again about a decade ago. Mancini Duffy. My brother worked there once.

My sister went to school in their shadow.

They were always there.

That’s why when you lose someone close to you, it’s so heartbreaking. It’s because they’re always there. And then one day, poof. They’re gone.

The scene I remember most is that of strangers gathered around cars, the city quiet, save for the radios.

Can you see it?

Cars stopped along Broadway with their radios on full blast for strangers? No music, no commercials, just the news. Everyone quiet and craning their neck so they could hear the latest bit of misery.

I believed in evil again that day. I believe in it now. I remember thinking of that line from American Pie that goes, I saw satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

I’m not a good enough writer to put into words how I felt then or feel now. So I’ll just say that I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Location: in my living room, trying not to be depressed
Mood: see location
Music: and there we were all in one place
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Rising

It’s 9/11/2007 today

I’m flying today. I’ve flown for at least three 9/11s since that day.

Ever miss a flight?

I almost missed mine this morning. I’m always almost missing flights. Not because I’m late; today I arrived with almost two hours to spare.

No, I was daydreaming again.

Heard my name on the loudspeaker a coupla times before it fully registered. I rose, grabbed my bag and ran the 30 feet to the gate. The pretty girl at the gate laughed because she said she noticed me staring out at the planes the whole time but assumed I was waiting for the next flight.

Go, go, go, she said.

Threw her a wink and a smile as I went, went, went.

Right now I’m in another nondescript upstate hotel room by myself listening to sad songs with only you, Tupac and the light from my screen for company. I’m remembering things and people I don’t wanna remember but I can’t forget.

And still I rise…

Location: 13601, talking to Somena
Mood: pensive
Music: Please give me to the sky
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September

My year really starts in September

Busy week. My rule to never say no to an invite came back to bite me last week. I was out every night after returning from Baltimore. Both my liver and my wallet hate me.

Saw a curly-haired girl from NYC, a grey-eyed blond from down south, and a brunette actress from Berlin, whom I suppose should be called Berlingirl.

For the first time in months, I find myself thinking about one particular girl. I’m trying not to dwell on it her too much, but it’s not easy.

Still, Fall’s my favorite season and I was alone(ish) last time around. Some company this year would be nice.

Not absolutely necessary but nice.

Hey, when does your year start? Does it start in January like most people? Or on your birthday?

Or September? Mine starts in September. Probably cause I was a student for so long.

And when you’re a fat, clumsy, geek, no one calls you to come out to play over summers. Plus camp’s for people with spare scratch.

For kids like me, summer’s just three months of solitude.

I can’t hardly wait for Fall to come.

Seriously, bring it, bring it, bring it…

Location: 10PM yest, saying goodbye and then hello on Broadway
Mood: excited again
Music: One eye on the winter Oh there’s just a hint of soviet snow