Beaches

                                         
                                            Like the title of some bad 80's movie. You know.
I'm sitting here at 3:33 in the morning (right, what) in a house in which every creak can be heard, every sigh, every audible anything. Time literally just pushed to 3:34. I'm in the East Hamptons with two of my very good girlfriends, Dacel and Erica. It's August. I'm tired. Yet, not tired considering I'm awake at this hour and have mustered the motivation to drum up my computer and post. Either way, exhaustion is a significant thing. It walks right up to you and slaps you, square on the cheek. That's how I've been feeling lately, anyway.

I've desired to write for such a serious length of time but haven't found the strength to do so. So much KB content has elapsed. My career. My friends. My loves. So much. How did I get here? How did this all happen to me?

I can't date back to all of it, but I can summarize some of it. That's about as far as I'll reach before waking (after sleeping again) tomorrow and cooking bacon and eggs and probably drinking Jameson (we love our whiskey in this house) before heading back to the beach. Ah, the beach. A place that makes me feel like I'm 10 again. Running in the sand toward the surf never felt so cathartic as it did yesterday. I really sunk my feet in.

July. Where did July start and end?

Justin. Justin re-appeared in my life.

Is this how life goes?

He texted me that he'd be in New York and could I position him on my dance card. How the hell not could I do that, Justin...you're one of the people who has known me the longest, period. Of course you'll climb to first rank. Oh, and I love you, by the way. Just an aside.

So he showed up. The idea was this: (not this weekend because I've taken a much-needed reprieve and luckily it's serving its worth) - we (my Arena people) are on mandatory 6-day weeks at the Arena. SIX DAYS. We would all rather be shoved off the high roof right now than do this. It's painful.

So the idea was that he'd find me Friday and we'd hang out and then he knew I'd have to report to duty on Saturday. So he came over. He arrived in this dust of Justin that is Justin, this cloud of brilliance, this beautiful shade of gold that doesn't even really exist unless you're him. It took me by storm. It always does, even just thinking of him does. And we sat on my couch and spoke endlessly of everything. I cannot think of any single thing we did not discuss.*

*Disclaimer, we probably only discussed stuff I love because that's just how doting and caring Justin is.

Of course more happened.

In the morning, I couldn't really still believe that 16 years later (INSANE) he was there stroking my hair, gazing down at me and reminding me with every last fingertip WHY exactly we ever collided to begin with.

It felt surreal. Here he was. He read to me. Just like 16 years ago...curled up near me and opened whatever book I selected and read out loud from it, to me, right near my cheek, right close to my skin, where I wanted him to be.

So yeah.

So then meanwhile the Greg thing. That proves to have to be a different post.

He moved me, Justin did.
It felt incredible to be shaken from my normal routine and lifted to different heights.

He had a lot of friends to see in the City but I was on the top of that list (I think) and one of the next nights I saw him he waltzed into my dive nearby bar in this checkered shirt and I'll never forget that smile as he walked in...nor the subsequent incredible exchange nor the subsequent goodbye (which will forever remain a hard story to tell.)

So yeah. Justin.

Yeah. Life.