Monday, February 8, 2010
Hello, my name is S------ and I am an alcoholic.
Now actually trembling with the DTs I consider curbing my alcohol intake..
ok now I'm really upset.
ok now I'm really upset. I drove a goddamn hour to this place to meet this jerk, and I'm freezing, and he's not even here and his phone isn't on, and it's not even about me, blow me off you MF though why allow me to come all the way down here instead of just blowing me off over the phone like a normal person, but my BOOK which is what I came here to get, is not even here, the dude working tonight knows nothing about it, and it's cold, and I'm sitting here like an idiot, and this place is weird and ok, I'm really upset right now.
Droopy Lids
Yeah, so. I'm all sorts of Space Mountain, and my brain is chimichurras. I recorded with Kosta til 1:30 or so last night, and fell asleep, characteristically, after 4. And then I had my first class of the semester this morning. I slept through my alarm and came to campus without any worthy idea as to where I was going, so I was late. Class was great though, and I teacherpetted instantly, not in a manipulative way; he's just a really cool guy and seems like a great teacher and made references I recognized from the books I read with Julian, so I mentioned them after class.
I had to buy all the books and that and it's expensive. I have my ballet class in an hour. I can barely keep 'em open. And then I'm driving down to Eamonns's venue to retrieve my notebook that I'd left, of course, the one with all my songs in it, and to return his book, and to give him my CD, and... yeah... yesterday we talked, and he blew me off, and yeah... that's all for now, I can't.
Man, why on earth did I take ballet this semester? I mean I'll love it but all the dance clothes and shoes, not like I KEPT them. And man, I'm never going to get to sleep in. This could be bad.
I had to buy all the books and that and it's expensive. I have my ballet class in an hour. I can barely keep 'em open. And then I'm driving down to Eamonns's venue to retrieve my notebook that I'd left, of course, the one with all my songs in it, and to return his book, and to give him my CD, and... yeah... yesterday we talked, and he blew me off, and yeah... that's all for now, I can't.
Man, why on earth did I take ballet this semester? I mean I'll love it but all the dance clothes and shoes, not like I KEPT them. And man, I'm never going to get to sleep in. This could be bad.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
The Homeless Professor: Part 2
I was dazed. I walked to my car in the pouring rain, in the dark, from the twilight of the couch.
I called the venue-- I said, I'm driving from all the way, I don't know what the traffic will be like.. I mean, I'll be late, should I come? and the guy said, You know what I'll save you a ticket.
I was stupid late. The drive was terrifying in the rain. I showed up, wet, interrupting, people staring, asking for him, Eamonn. A young guy was playing beautiful flamenco guitar on the stage. I hung by the back and finally he came out. "Ah, you're the girl." He leaned over and handed me a ticket. Chemistry. Instant. Mutual. "Ah. Donnelly." He smiled. Sort of devilishly. "Put your name on the list next to the blond guy, Japanese guy, at the mixer. Three dollars." "I have to get cash... Is there an ATM?" "Across the street. You going in the rain?" "I have an umbrella." "Put your name on the list."
I walked through the crowd again, and through the rain, to the grocery store. I bought a fifth of cheap vodka and get cash back. I took a swill in the bathroom. I came back in and ordered a lemon tea. I sat sipping it next to the blond boy, watching, some weren't great. I kept scanning around for Eamonn. I said I had to pay for my ticket. I dumped a little vodka in my tea. My name was late on the list. The boy next to me said his wasn't on the list at all, and didn't make it last week, though he was there at 7 30, they sold out fast, but maybe he'd get to go up. Eamonn walked by and I got up and paid him. We exchanged a couple words, walked toward the back, hung there for a second talking about nothing. I went back to my seat. I drank a little. The engineer asked me if I wanted to go next though there were like ten names before mine... I was like, "Oh, I don't know, I'm.. not really ready..." "How about in two or three?" "Perfect, perfect," I said and I was trembling a little.
Then Eamonn was onstage with a guitar, and he was riveting, hard and soft, haunting... I got up and did my two songs without saying a word to the audience. I don't remember it, I remember making mistakes, I remember it sounding good, I remember the piano was out of tune and mid-playing I said into the mic, Hey this C is like somewhere between a B and a B-flat, to the engineer and nobody laughed or anything. They applauded. I walked off without saying anything. I sat back down. People started turning and saying, Really great, your voice is so beautiful, where can I hear more? and you sound like ____, you sound like ____, you sound like _____, I love her! And the promoter came up to me and gave me a featured set. And I said, oh, thanks, wow, thank you, and as Eamonn walked through the crowd he touched my arm and said, Haunting.
Later he asked if the drink helped. He said what do you have. He said give it here. The conversation got boozy. He's a professor, sociology and human sexuality. I'm studying sociology, next week start... He has an album out... I'm working on a new one... His ex wife is a musician too. I bet she is good. She's amazing. But she stifled me. She didn't inspire me... Mine too, my ex fiance, amazing. He inspired me though.
We ended up outside, in a corner, talking, ducking the rain, in my car, making out, in the venue in the dark after it closed, on a different couch.
There's something you should know about me. He'd said. I'll tell you later.
So after everything, he looked at me and said, I have a son, did I tell you? He's five. No, I said, that's cool, I bet he's amazing. He lives with my ex wife in Arizona, I have a stepson too. From her? I asked. From her, he said, and I still support them. Must be tough.. I said. We're finalizing our divorce... Oh boy, I grabbed my coat, I need to go home now. I joked. No, I know that takes forever, I said, it took my best friend Elena like four years... And you know that car you saw out there?
And I said, That's where you're living...
And he nodded, and I nodded, and then I shook my head, and I was shocked, and fuming, and perfectly still, staring ahead of me, jawdropped.
I... this is just, I can't. I said.
You're tired... You need to go home... I'll drive you...
How will you do that?
I'll drive you back to your car in the morning...
But- oh.
I know the area I know the good spots. He laughed. At me.
Addendum: He's a total jerk. Wow. I hate men. So much.
I called the venue-- I said, I'm driving from all the way, I don't know what the traffic will be like.. I mean, I'll be late, should I come? and the guy said, You know what I'll save you a ticket.
I was stupid late. The drive was terrifying in the rain. I showed up, wet, interrupting, people staring, asking for him, Eamonn. A young guy was playing beautiful flamenco guitar on the stage. I hung by the back and finally he came out. "Ah, you're the girl." He leaned over and handed me a ticket. Chemistry. Instant. Mutual. "Ah. Donnelly." He smiled. Sort of devilishly. "Put your name on the list next to the blond guy, Japanese guy, at the mixer. Three dollars." "I have to get cash... Is there an ATM?" "Across the street. You going in the rain?" "I have an umbrella." "Put your name on the list."
I walked through the crowd again, and through the rain, to the grocery store. I bought a fifth of cheap vodka and get cash back. I took a swill in the bathroom. I came back in and ordered a lemon tea. I sat sipping it next to the blond boy, watching, some weren't great. I kept scanning around for Eamonn. I said I had to pay for my ticket. I dumped a little vodka in my tea. My name was late on the list. The boy next to me said his wasn't on the list at all, and didn't make it last week, though he was there at 7 30, they sold out fast, but maybe he'd get to go up. Eamonn walked by and I got up and paid him. We exchanged a couple words, walked toward the back, hung there for a second talking about nothing. I went back to my seat. I drank a little. The engineer asked me if I wanted to go next though there were like ten names before mine... I was like, "Oh, I don't know, I'm.. not really ready..." "How about in two or three?" "Perfect, perfect," I said and I was trembling a little.
Then Eamonn was onstage with a guitar, and he was riveting, hard and soft, haunting... I got up and did my two songs without saying a word to the audience. I don't remember it, I remember making mistakes, I remember it sounding good, I remember the piano was out of tune and mid-playing I said into the mic, Hey this C is like somewhere between a B and a B-flat, to the engineer and nobody laughed or anything. They applauded. I walked off without saying anything. I sat back down. People started turning and saying, Really great, your voice is so beautiful, where can I hear more? and you sound like ____, you sound like ____, you sound like _____, I love her! And the promoter came up to me and gave me a featured set. And I said, oh, thanks, wow, thank you, and as Eamonn walked through the crowd he touched my arm and said, Haunting.
Later he asked if the drink helped. He said what do you have. He said give it here. The conversation got boozy. He's a professor, sociology and human sexuality. I'm studying sociology, next week start... He has an album out... I'm working on a new one... His ex wife is a musician too. I bet she is good. She's amazing. But she stifled me. She didn't inspire me... Mine too, my ex fiance, amazing. He inspired me though.
We ended up outside, in a corner, talking, ducking the rain, in my car, making out, in the venue in the dark after it closed, on a different couch.
There's something you should know about me. He'd said. I'll tell you later.
So after everything, he looked at me and said, I have a son, did I tell you? He's five. No, I said, that's cool, I bet he's amazing. He lives with my ex wife in Arizona, I have a stepson too. From her? I asked. From her, he said, and I still support them. Must be tough.. I said. We're finalizing our divorce... Oh boy, I grabbed my coat, I need to go home now. I joked. No, I know that takes forever, I said, it took my best friend Elena like four years... And you know that car you saw out there?
And I said, That's where you're living...
And he nodded, and I nodded, and then I shook my head, and I was shocked, and fuming, and perfectly still, staring ahead of me, jawdropped.
I... this is just, I can't. I said.
You're tired... You need to go home... I'll drive you...
How will you do that?
I'll drive you back to your car in the morning...
But- oh.
I know the area I know the good spots. He laughed. At me.
Addendum: He's a total jerk. Wow. I hate men. So much.
The Homeless Professor: Part 1
I'm saying just suck it up, Scarlet, you let your emotions get the best of you... Electric wires gone astray... Not real. Nothing is wrong.
This was my night. I went to see Julian at seven (it was seven). I teased and blew out my hair, letting it fall in sexy soft waves, I wore something subtly sexy, and partly because I decided, if I could make it on time to go this elite open-mic place in the hip neighborhood. I called them ahead of time, and they said I could get a spot if I got a ticket, but they sold out fast. But they had a piano, real one, and microphones and amps and mixer. So I wouldn't have to lug my stuff. I was gonna play it by ear.
Anyway I got to Julian's. We just talked about movies and languages. It really was like a date. He sat closer to me. He showed me cuts on his hand. He was dressed more casually. He dimmed the lights a little when I walked in. He told me he spoke Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese. I asked how long he lived in Europe, and he told me, six months, and I said, that's incredible, and he said it was easy. He acted modest (well no, that's the wrong word-- he was not being modest) and said Oh, I'd studied it in college for a year and a half before. I said, A year and a half? He said Well, another few months there. I said, Wow. I talked about the Gypsy Kings, that's how this started actually, how I know all the lyrics but have no clue what I'm saying... He corrected me a few times. I talked about my music... I wanted to ask him what kind he liked, but I forgot.
When I walked in, the first thing he said was, I remembered this line you wrote at the end of your e-mails, 'It's raining, too.'
I said, "It is."
He wrote me an appointment card, and I saw that on the back of it he's written something, and they were two movie recommendations.
When? When will this happen, J.
This was my night. I went to see Julian at seven (it was seven). I teased and blew out my hair, letting it fall in sexy soft waves, I wore something subtly sexy, and partly because I decided, if I could make it on time to go this elite open-mic place in the hip neighborhood. I called them ahead of time, and they said I could get a spot if I got a ticket, but they sold out fast. But they had a piano, real one, and microphones and amps and mixer. So I wouldn't have to lug my stuff. I was gonna play it by ear.
Anyway I got to Julian's. We just talked about movies and languages. It really was like a date. He sat closer to me. He showed me cuts on his hand. He was dressed more casually. He dimmed the lights a little when I walked in. He told me he spoke Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese. I asked how long he lived in Europe, and he told me, six months, and I said, that's incredible, and he said it was easy. He acted modest (well no, that's the wrong word-- he was not being modest) and said Oh, I'd studied it in college for a year and a half before. I said, A year and a half? He said Well, another few months there. I said, Wow. I talked about the Gypsy Kings, that's how this started actually, how I know all the lyrics but have no clue what I'm saying... He corrected me a few times. I talked about my music... I wanted to ask him what kind he liked, but I forgot.
When I walked in, the first thing he said was, I remembered this line you wrote at the end of your e-mails, 'It's raining, too.'
I said, "It is."
He wrote me an appointment card, and I saw that on the back of it he's written something, and they were two movie recommendations.
When? When will this happen, J.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Nervous...
For tonight... It's nothing SCAR-LET I know. It'll be a session. A J-Date. Hah! That made me laugh. OK. No biggie.
Mac N' Cheese Days
I'm flirting with an old friend from middle school. He's halfway around the world. We're sending each other sexy pictures. I made rice today and it didn't stick to the pan. Another old friend of mine said the nicest thing about my songs. I'm... oh I hate these words but... well, undersexed and craving it and thinking about brushing Julian's hair out of his face and sitting on his lap and touching him and then more than touching him forever and ever and beyond
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)