This bed is emptiest in the morning with out you.
It’s empty at night, too, but at night I lay down with all of the problems of the day in bed, in my head with me. When I awake, it’s just me, alone with my thoughts of you.
The bed is empty in the morning, I feel so empty in the morning.
Favorite bar for a reason. (Taken with Instagram at The Gate)
She said there were things about our relationship that scared her: the distance, the commitment, the way that the feelings just seemed to rush inside of her so fast. But, these things, we learned together were OK. The fear we felt was just the first step in a relationship, and those steps got easier and easier to take as soon as we started taking them, because each step brought us closer and closer together.
In the retrospective haze of of those long afternoons I spent ashore— long after the time we spent aboard that vessel that brought us together and, eventually tore us apart I would sit near the dock and listen. Listen for the water as it splashed against the pilings below; the sound of the gulls above, and in the distance the howl of the light that guides even the most wayward ships to safety.
It was important you once said, to take life as it comes, and to not get too attached to much of anything that can’t be easily replaced. Things that were hard to replace, you said, were always more trouble then they were worth so it was best to let them drift back out with the tide as quietly as they came in. No use in worrying about something you know you can’t replace. It was no real surprise then when I awoke one morning to find a red sky and a note pinned to the bulkhead.
I mostly stay on land now, but, occasionally in the early morning, while it’s still calm I’ll take a dinghy and row out into the middle of the bay and try and listen for the answers as the wind crosses the water and moves over me.
You are you, right now, but imagine yourself then, as you were. She had later exonerated you for your (in her words) ‘mischievous misuse of masturbation’ while watching movies together, after she fell asleep. She found it repulsive that, during the movie Kids, you would masturbate through the sex scenes, and then wanting to watch other such films. It’s shocking (her words) how much your cock resembles Vincent Gallo’s. A self-referential tirade followed by an argument in the street at 2am ends with you outside on the swing that hangs on the porch trying to explain to her why it’s OK for you to act out the way you do, because deep down, you’re just projecting your feelings about yourself onto her. Later, she lets you sleep in the bed, but you can not touch her. You are yourself right now, but you ought not be, at times.
Today is Hey Mike Waskom’s birthday. And while he is typing this himself, he’s not sure why it’s in the third person.
He’s going to go to work now, and then to Coney Island. Maybe a story will come of it. Until that time, check out this story he wrote which may or may not be true. (it’s true)
(photo by Chad-Moore)
Hi Everyone
There hasn’t been a post here in a while, and I’m sorry. There are a few reasons for that. One is that I don’t have internet at home any longer. I’m currently writing this from the Park Slope Ale House, which is on my block (lucky me). Bummer, but the second reason is that a few weeks ago I got a promotion at work and I’ve been really busy! If you want to know what I do, you should check this out. My restaurant that I manage has wheels, and it’s so cool. See the video.
Hopefully I’ll sort out my internet and be able to maintain this better. You folks who’ve stuck by me with this, through the beginning, I really want to thank you. Please be well, and know that you’re appreciated, special, and loved.
Meet Evi. She’s our HR director. She’s awesome.
(Video by Alex K Colby. www.alexkcolby.com)
This is Evi the Director of Humans at my company, Luke’s Lobster, and she’s my favorite! Check it out, ya’ll and if you were at all interested maybe follow my work type blog. I don’t write it but that doesn’t make it less awesome!! I’m re-blogging this from Maine right now!
In case any of you Since She Left readers ever wanted to know what I do for a living in New York City, my work place has a blog. FOLLOW IT!
The two of you took a train to get to a train so that she could get to a bus which would later in the evening leave the city. That bus, the vile and filthy Chinatown variety would carry her south, and into the mountains where she lives. You will stay behind because this is where you live.
New York City is no respecter of persons. It does not care that she’s spent 3 days here with you, and in those days you held hands and saw the island from the water, feeling both so large and so small. Oh, and in the nights you were tangled up together in your apartment, alternating big spoons, smiling a lot and, kissing like the couple that you’re not, but you want to be. This city doesn’t care that you got attached. New York City doesn’t care about your attachment because the immediacy is that she needs to get on that A Train to take her to where she needs to go and that train is not waiting.
Her hand is gripped around your arm, she doesn’t say it but you know the meaning; don’t go. The exchange that follows is summed up in that you will travel to see her soon. She wants to come back. She’s left a tooth brush in your apartment. The things you didn’t say are not important-there will be time later to say them. The only thing that matters is the way she felt in your arms, when you knew she was asleep, the smell of her hair which you hope never leaves your pillow and that you wrote this from a train that is both taking you away from her in the physical breadth of distance, versus time, which after enough passing will bring you back to her.
This is the story
When I told you that I had dreamt about you I left something out. In the dream, your hands aflame, we were drawn together, closer than ever before and you told me, you asked me (you made yourself know that you’d like me) to be faithful. You knew of my background, and while no true philandering had ever taken place in my history, you warned me, really that I had one shot, and to make it count. I made my allegiance known, tried to assure you, but words aren’t always the greatest conveyer of convictions.
It was at that point the camera pulled out and away, zooming out and out, and still further out that we get a sense that even for a Hollywood production it’s clear that they don’t rent cranes this large, nor are there lenses this wide, and so it must be a dream, or some form of computer generated effect and then as quickly as it all started the DP pushed the shot back forward, and in towards earth the camera comes. This time though the shot moved in another direction. Down a long road. This road, is like most others save the fact that in the most peculiar way it has no telephone lines running along it. Try. Go ahead and try to find a road in the U.S. that has no phone lines that sway in high winds. If you can, then you’ve found your way-just like this camera man who’s directing my dream-to our place. Down this long straight road on a sunny day into a driveway made of gravel, around a house and through a backyard that’s open and comfortable with nice grass, towards the end of a dock that sits on a sleepy bay. At the end of that dock a hammock is hung, and the DP frames the shot just so and that hammock sits, softly swinging in the summer sun and, just off, behind the camera is us. We’re going over our lines one last time before we walk together into the shot and carefully sit down on this hammock (in the rehearsals I’d tipped us over). The shooting script said that we had just finished brunch and now we’d love to take a nap. We’re not acting though. Everyone might think that we’ve signed up for this for the experience but you and I know that this is real to us, and even after, long after, the camera has stopped rolling and put into its case, and the various craft services tents had being taken down, and people with trucks are packing them to leave, we’ll remain. We will be there, on that hammock, in the sun, arm in arm feeling every bit of satisfied not saying very much at all.
That is more or less the dream as I describe it, as I hope to experience it. It changes slightly with each re-telling. Minor details become more prominent, units of measure/the passage of time grow longer or shorter. Sometimes the cameras aren’t there. It’s just you and me, sharing the moment. Other times all of our friends surround us, as if it were a party, everyone with drinks in hand, people laugh without reservation. Often it’s night, and at the end of our dock there is a light which glows faintly and the hammock is replaced by a bench which we sit on, and as you lean on my arm I kiss your forehead. Below us small waves slap against the dock and the cicadas sing to us and the sky is always clear, the moon is low and your hand, as it turns out fits perfectly in my hand.
She sat at her dining room table crying over something or another. The minimal makeup that she wore was spread out on her cheeks. It was something that had nothing to do with you. Something that you couldn’t necessarily fix, but wanted to try. I wanted her to let me in. Interstellar, Interstate. I dial up and across the telephone lines, a love song plays while I’m on hold. It sounds like a pounding looks. That old mix tape that wasn’t made for you, but you played for her, and it fit. It works because it’s heartfelt. It resonates because she knows where you’re going. All the signs point to yes. All the exits on her highways end up in the same place.
She hangs up and wipes her eyes. She takes a breath and holds it. She lets it out once she’s sure that it’s safe to breathe you back in. She’s sitting at that dining room table and at once you think that that table might fit, it may work with the existing flooring that you have in the apartment that you already have. Clear as a bell. You’ve been drinking but it doesn’t matter. You wonder how such a desolate state can contain her. How she can be in a state to be contained.
She is still a long way off, but doesn’t seem so far anymore.
Lack Of Updates
Haven’t really updated in the past week or so, mainly because I’ve been busy with work, moving (back to Brooklyn!), a slight cold and lack of time/internet connection.
It snowed today, but summer is coming, and I hope to melt like butter.
Interiors
Today I worked real real hard and on my walk home I was texting all my friends, and I’m feeling happy. Satisfied. I realized that I know some incredibly amazing people who are doing seriously radical things.
- Tonight, in like 30 minutes Aaron is premiering his film, Apart at SXSW and like 3 times I’ve thought about it I’ve almost got tears in my eyes. SO proud.
- Donald’s book, Let Me Make You A Sandwich came out last year and it’s excellent. You should pick up a copy. (He gave me a real nice thank you in the back <3 )
There’s also;
- DJ DATE NIGHT
- A Drink With Dave
- Dudes who travel a lot
- People who make great podcasts
- Photographers with hearts of gold
- A woman with beautiful eyes
- Neighbors
- People that feel like they could be your brother
- A Woman Sailing Around The World
- People who are encouraging souls
Get to know these people.
This is my follow Saturday. Get to know these people.
I’ve Tried But…
I just can’t get myself to regret him.
You don’t have to regret him. You just have to acknowledge him as a legitimate part of your past and plan your future accordingly.
