Thursday September 22 2011

Waking up just after 1 p.m.

Banana. Strawberry Yogurt.

Tweaking and kinking recordings…

Lunch: Peanut Butter Bagel. Blue and Yukon Gold Potato Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Meeting up at Amanda’s place with Jack Cassada, Maxwell Alan, and Joshua Shelly—congregating in The Shed—more talks and critiques on Occupy Wall Street—brainstorming ideas for a regular local publication that will be printed and posted monthly with it’s purpose being to educate and inform and also spark involvement. Feeding off each other’s fiery minds… There are many demands to be made. But we are ambitious and focused. This is important.


Hot Yoga session…afterwards I feel dizzy…

Back home…Margot called me earlier. I call back. Not sure if this was a good idea…but I care about what she’s going through. The conversation turns sour as we cover the same topics and go through the same explanations. I’m trying to be sentimental but she’s so bitter and hateful towards me—blaming me for her heart ache—sucking the energy right out.

Her: “I never stop thinking about you. I never stop missing you…”

Me: “I’m trying to move on…I’m on a path…”

Me: “I can’t be your crutch anymore. It’s not fair to you or me. You have to try and get through this, not get back in it………I need you to respect this.”

She keeps begging to see me and I keep saying I don’t have the capacity. Like, I really don’t. It’s been over an hour in…I’m getting frustrated and upset and sympathetic all at the same time…She’s weeping her brains out….God, it’s like I’m listening to death…Why am I being so cold? I don’t mean to be…All she wants is for me to hold her and just be there—just see me—for only 30 minutes she claims. Eventually I allow her to come over…

Dinner: Shitake Mushrooms and Tofu Rice with Broccoli and Onions. Mickey’s.

She walks in wearing that sexy dark magenta dress—her face deep in a dreadful state—I’m in the middle of working on a song…I keep playing until it’s over. I stand up solemnly and offer an apology for acting cold over the phone…then…I reach my arms around her and…connect—a sincere warm hug. That heat. I haven’t felt it in a while. Body to body. Head to head. Chest to chest. Boy, have I been deprived. I should’ve expected the inevitable. Maybe she did too. I don’t think it’s something we can control when we see each other. And that’s a big reason why I was so reluctant to meet up or even be in any kind of physical space together. It’s a fire. And the only way to avoid a fire is to back off. But again, this is all we know with one another. We entered a new level sexually tonight—the expressions—the ecstasy—the movement—the rhythm—the moaning—the excitement—the beauty. But I guess everything is heightened like that when it’s been a while.

Earlier, over the phone I kept asking her how much longer or how many more times do we need? Recalling something she said to me in a recent message…

I hate myself for still being so attached to you and loving you so much. I mean you were my first love, bf, sleepover, hook up, sex buddy and best guy friend. There's just so much there for me to let go of :(

That explains the extent and what’s at stake in her mind. But here we go. The drama will continue. I will still fight for distance. She will fight to be closer. Even though the path seems a little bit rocky and winding I’m still assertively on it and the narrow is coming soon…

Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Sleep 4 a.m.

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