writing posts on the blog. i guess that’s always the default when i don’t know what else to do. when i feel stuck or sort of defenselessly hopeless. i suppose i can think of about 10 other things i could be doing that would be more helpful, but i think i come here when i struggle with things that are old. old friends, old wounds, old bullshit.
i guess it’s an easy default de-stress. a place where i know how to express myself. something that comes easy to me. i’ve felt very solitary and “unheard,” and i guess i feel like if i’m going to feel that way, at least i can shout out into the universe a little. i’m a sucker for that concept — throwing things out into the universe. eight years ago, there was this guy that i was all head over heels for (an instant clue that it was all TROUBLE) and i remember him telling me that i should do this emergency fill-in radio show because it was so great, so romantic that my voice was just going to be out there, in the ether, going out into infinity for miles and miles and for years and years, just endlessly going out on radio waves forever. and i bought it, hook, line and sinker. that, and i just had visions of my tongue in his mouth. i will not lie. that is the god’s honest truth.
i did the show with him in the room, just pulling songs kind of at random and writing them down and feeling sort of nuts in about a million ways (oh, hypomania, you were most definitely at work there probably a little bit) and having the time of my life. chemistry crackling and music playing and my heart beating just a little bit faster. he drove me home, we only to find that we were literally neighbors; our backyards would have backed up against one another if we had had houses or if we had had backyards.
instead he lived in the highrise on sheridan, and me in an apartment just a block away, but in the city, that’s about as randomly close as you’re going to get. it *had* to have been a sign, right? well, i don’t know what kind of sign it really was — random is one word i can use. at the end of the day, the facts of the matter ended up boiling down to this:
1. i broke up with someone so i could convince myself that i wouldn’t end up a cheater,
2. i ended up dating someone all the while he was seriously dating/breaking up with someone else — who was cheating on him,
3. he lived in an apartment that had one of the most spectacular views of the city i’ve ever seen,
4. he might be, to this day, the best kisser i’ve ever run across.
i don’t know if it was because i was still newly sober and kind of on a rollercoaster or because i felt like i couldn’t quite get enough or because he was so incredibly ambivalent about the whole thing or because he was just an incredible kisser, but the fact remains, he and i could kiss. and sometimes, that’s what we’d do — kissing for hours, feeling things escalate, but never going past a heavy pet. maybe it was because he was just a completely stoic german who was too afraid to be too emotional, be too passionate. it was really probably because he didn’t want to go there with me — he had already promised the rest of his heart, mind, and body to someone else.
it was during those days and nights that i realized just how incredibly underrated kissing really was. how more people could really benefit from going there and staying there. how so many more people had so much more to learn. i don’t know where i’m even going with this. it’s probably time for bed. i guess it all started with me shouting out things, blindly, to the universe that got me going on that particular memory. man, this moving thing has gotten me all in that frame of mind. remembering and discarding.