Zdrastvotye, menya zovut Scarlet y ya...

Hello, my name is Scarlet and I am a Chronic Homewrecker...

So.

Okay. Over the past couple months of creating musical magic with him, I have begun to develop an enormous artcrush on C. Clearly. We spend a lot of time together. Late nights. Inside jokes. Booze. Booze, because I get self-conscious and stiff when I'm playing for expensive recording equipment, and being tense or stiff or nervous makes you suck, and a couple hefty chugs of vodka really help the situation. He lays down on the floor when I play and closes his eyes and listens. I lay down on the floor and watch him point microphones at speakers and play an electric guitar and six pedals at the same time and then close my eyes and listen to what comes out. He looks like one of the characters in a videogame my brother used to play when we were little. I call him that, as a nickname. He's married. Right now.

On Saturday night a couple weeks ago I went to the studio and there were a couple people there and we were drinking and one of them ended up staying pretty late. He was really funny, the guy, a producer for this really famous hip hop group, but they were talking about all these people they know in common from LA from like the early nineties for hours. Obviously I couldn't add anything to the conversation. The guy also wouldn't really believe I was over nineteen years old, which was kind of annoying. So around midnight I started getting really antsy and pretty bored and realized I actually just wanted to be hanging out with C all night and started pacing a little bit and he noticed, and I went to check my phone a bunch of times and even said I should probably get going and he said why don't you play for us, you should hear her play, it's ridiculous, and I said nah, no, and I went and sat down at it and put my foot on the mute pedal and pressed down on the keys silently like a little brat, and after a few minutes C got up and started pacing a little too and then he sat down next to me on the bench and started playing and I started drawing him on this napkin and when I looked up at him he started kissing me and we sat there kissing like that and not moving, and he was still playing these slow beautiful haunting notes, until he played one really quiet, put his arm around my waist and let the chord linger like that, and I let the pen and napkin fall out of hand and put it on his knee and then he started running his fingers through my hair and I was holding my breath and then he stopped and his friend was still there (apparently TWEETING) and he just goes, "All right, man...."

And so, his friend, amused, made up some excuse about having to go wait for someone somewhere and C went upstairs to let him out and he came back down and looked at me and knelt down and laughed and said,

"Well, I knew that would work!"

And I laughed and then he took my hand and I stood up and he picked me up off the ground and making out with me up against the wall and and and et cetera.........

But not all the way et cetera.... he was totally consumed by guilt at some point.... which surprised me. Considering how he is. And where we met. How I've seen him, around women, and stuff, we'd discussed it before, more sorta jokingly, how I kind of assumed he was a male-slut but, quite the opposite... he's another one, married for six years, totally faithful, in a relationship of more like twenty years on and off...

So we've kind of been prancing around town together, at clubs, the studio, around his music buddies and to restaurants and I've made dinner for him and Madeline loves him and the whole nine, and it's been amazing and I'm thrilled that I'm not, again, in this situation, of sitting across somebody mutually wanting to @*&# and not. (Though, I kind of am...)

But, furthermore... C is not the type to just go around with a girlfriend. I feel like I'm just so used to that, like it's just the standard for me, and I just expect it.

But he's actually now in serious, heavy, no-joke divorce mode, and he says he doesn't want to talk about it and no, it's not about me, it's been a long time coming, and it's gotten so close so many times, and it won't affect anything and don't worry about it, and "trust me-- you are not responsible, okay?"

And I'm like, no, I'm NOT. I'm not. I'm not responsible! I'm not asking anymore questions, and I'm trying not to worry about it, and to believe, that these grownups all around me know what they're doing, that I'm not responsible for anyone (or ANYTWO...) married and working with me whose never been unfaithful, or touched a client-- that these no-ring-wearing, 40-year-old, very-successful MEN will not do anything stupid and blame it on me. And then drop out of my life. After I've trusted them and only them with it.

But... I do worry about it, just a little bit. Just a little. Yeah.

I'm sick.

I'm sick and I'm really quite depressed at this point.

Is going to the gym for a few hours a really bad idea?

Bonkers, Brilliant, or Brave?

from another letter to julian, from last night. i saw him today. nothing happened, but, it's always good to see him...

"...but theyre all, these french girls, they just say unexpected things, real things, like i feel like so many people have just canned responses.

so i cant say i blame you jd

Midwestern grown where they grow em tall n pretty, midwest, middle class, but with NYC roots, always felt a little out of place though you always apparently fit in very well? thought your family was kinda weird (well what kid does not as ET says everyone is strange, some are more strange zan ozers), WASP/RC mix like JD salinger style, franny and zooey, new york neurosis and brit repressed emotions and irishcatholic guilt, some storminess, some worldliness in the middle of america, maybe thought your older sibling was a little weird, which made you more self conscious than you seemed, and your family had some issues and you were a little kid and you started observing people's behavior a lot, not consciously.... and you yourself were interested in a bunch of weird esoteric shit hahaha but you always had nice friends. and you were always ambitious. and, like all attractive men, didn't really know you were attractive until girlies started telling you so. and they did. you went to college. people were telling you you're brilliant, and you're special, and girlies telling you you're pretty, and you were like you know what I AM! and im gonna get the F out of here and go live in europe.

and so you did and you came back relaxed and happy and more stylish and more self assured and more impulsive. and still ambitious. and a little arrogant because everything came easy to you. and you were sociable and well spoken and well mannered and attractive and overachieving and outwardly easy-going, you were still always questioning things because you cared about things, and never really stopped questioning yourself because you were always changing philosophies and open to new world views and kept telling yourself you didnt know anything even though other people made you feel like you knew everything.

and there were a lot of girlies, messy personal life, possibly runs in the family, and then you were debating between law school and phd program and law school was kind of tempting cuz you knew youd be good at it and make a lot of money and people were urging you to go, but you didn't wanna wear those damn shoes, and phd program seemed easier, and it meant california, and you always wanted to go there and you played the beachboys in your car but the real reason you chose it was because you started feeling your white light and your truth and your exploration and your curiosity and your wisdom that you had all along but didnt admit it to yourself...

and there you were at Stanford... given privileges and responsibilities only given to the elite group.... lost in the meritocracy... and there was lots of work and there was lots of BS and lots of girlies and you kind of missed your friends in the midwest, surrounded by LA weirdos, and you met this one girlie you really really liked and really fell for and it all seemed perfect and then she turned out to be less than you thought she was, and it haunted you, and you hated her, and you hated everything for a while. and then you met this pretty french girlie and she was really intellectual and totally different and from this good family and it was worldly and stylish and everything you wanted and you were starting to see your career going really well and you were kind of impulsive and you went to france and met her family and you moved in together and you got married and you had kids and you had houses and............

you want to kill me right now dont you.

if all of this is totally wrong, i'm just an idiot, if some of it is right and you think its an insult, youre wrong, because it only seems RELATABLE to me. and because anything i think about you, is never an insult. because you know, i think youre so fucking amazing. so sorry about that, i hope youre not gonna be mean to me tomorrow because of it, please dont, i was just thinking about this... because i think about it. my pills are making my eyelids droop PERFECT its 1 20.

oh i got some money. i always got you J. cuz youre priceless

good night

love
s"

bonkers, brilliant or brave?

layout colors

I've decided to stick with layout for now... especially before I learn how to make the blog title at the top this logo... which is what I wanna do... but I'm gonna try to offset the pinkiness, cuz I'm not really that pink a person... I'm more red... by changing the colors of the letters. Hehe. Stay tuned as a futz around with this. LOL.

this new layout...

does this new layout look like ass?

i think it might... opinions?

Questionnaire for an Absentee Lover

Are you sleeping right now?

Where?

Do you have a TV in your bedroom?

What do you watch?

When do you see all these movies?

How come you're so beautiful?

When was the last time you were on an airplane?

When was the last time you were in the ocean?

When was the last time you saw the sun rise?

What happened to the Paris pamphlet?

Which side of the bed do you like?

Scotch or gin?

Red or white?

Zippers or laces?

Blu-Ray or DVD?

Mashed, whipped, roasted, baked, or fried?

Earliest childhood memory?

Death by fire or drowning?

Cryptography or Robotics?

Time-Travel or Shapeshifting?

Invisibility Cloak or Flight?

Chess or Scrabble?

Photos or Mirrors?

Blackjack or Roulette?

Jack Nicholson or Jack Nicholas?

Dublin or London?

Now or Never?

Black or White?

In or Out?

Yes or No?

Catch-up and a Response.

So Thursday night I went to work, and yesterday I went to see Julian... yeah, and then I went straight from their to E's open mic place, and I played, and felt I tanked and I talked to E for a bit, he's become a friend now, ironically... And then the guy who owns the place was there and ran out and said "Hey, you, I have a slot open tomorrow night for an hour long set... Do you want it?" So I'm playing tonight... an hour... That's like my entire repertoire... That's like 10 songs or more... I haven't played most of them in ages... I have to practice all day and write down notes and NOT be nervous.... Well no one can be nervous for an hour. I think it'll be good for me. I'm almost considering telling people. I want to go to work tonight too so I'll have to go right after. It'll be a long day.

So first...

I want to respond to KS- I know where you're going with that question... Don't think I haven't considered... My belief system is an intense, ever-shifting, often-painful, love-hate relationship with one, then another, then none at all, then a few... much like my other relationships, which are getting less tumultuous and deeper as I grow up, which is a good thing, but for now... Well I'd like to go into it... but another time... Just to say, my apparent lack of faith is not for lack of interest, or consideration... I don't live the unexamined life... and when I'm hanging on the edge I look out... and sometimes I feel... Anyway...

I'm going to continue this in separate posts... I think that would be wise...