Things

I've written and re-written this next post right around 4 thousand times in the past handful of days in my brain. I have wanted to purge so many thoughts, so many incredible small moments of my life coupled with so many awful ones: it's all a blend, a hearty cocktail of life stuff. Right now it's Sunday (and I am in agony over how much I love this new singer / songwriter I located this week who covers "Easy Like Sunday Morning" in this series called the Van Sessions) and so because of my instability of control over my thoughts at this juncture, stream of consciousness is to ensue. Apologies in advance of it.

Laundry day must happen today. I'm in grief over it because I hate doing it here in LA. In New York, it was so much simpler. Drop it off. Pay twelve bucks. Pick it up. All folded. Done deal. Here, there are maybe places to do that? But none as convenient as riding the elevator downstairs to the parking garage where there are machines and pumping in quarters and coming back upstairs to wait idly then go back down and switch it over to the dryer and pump more quarters and add linen awesome scented dryer sheets. My first world problems just seem so insignificant. Well.

I'm in a giant slump. One of those that yields nothing but the desire to clamber around my pillows in my bed and shove my cheek into any number of them and flop my arms around like ribbons. I have been having some fairly severely passionate and intense conversations with Greg here lately about depression. I may just be making an assumption, since neither of us has outright said so, but I think he and I both believe respectively that we are not respectively "clinically" depressed, rather suffer tendencies toward. And I respect that we respectively rather insinuate that to each other.

Yet, we both suffer from something. Not the same something. And when I mean something, I mean many somethings, each, for both of us. My somethings are an elephant-sized conversation that we keep not having because we're both in search for the right moment. And evidently, he is coming to Los Angeles in like two weeks. This was unexpected (it's for a family excursion but I am also a factor, it would allege) and yesterday, and this is an intro to a whole new stream of brain dump, we discussed the possibility of laying in a park, me with my eyes closed, prepared to discuss. In person. Not said, but hopefully his hand in mine. And even today I emailed him a huge mountain of important, which is that I am afraid of him. He peers inside to my very essence in a way I cannot say I've known anyone else to have done, ever.

So our plan, earlier in the week, was to FaceTime with each other, schedule it, own it. Late in the week we opted for Saturday at 11KBST (KB Standard Time) and it evolved to include burger lunch. We are so funny and awesome. That never goes unnoticed by either of us. But he had gone to his office and was running late getting back to Brooklyn and I was running late too blah and it finally wound up starting around 12:30KBST instead, and we ate burgers over FaceTime and it was fun and light but then things got serious.

Maybe it was that we desperately needed to stare into each other's eyes. I'm stating it now that while FaceTime isn't the same as being next to someone in real life? It's a fucking close second. And we just looked at each other. For what felt like forever. His eyes are uncontrollably unbelievable. They tell me so many things. They changed, through this experience, and I could read every change. Sometimes we would share smiles. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes he would rub those eyes with his fist in this way that I have so so so grown to love - it's so endearing, and beautiful. And other times, our lashes would just blink, sometimes in unison, sometimes not. And the entire time I felt so very compelled to say every single thing I want to say to him.

I don't really stake the claim that we are the most amazing two people to have collided, but I kind of do. We have so many things to wade through. I know that. But I cannot imagine us never not knowing each other, at least in some capacity. We have tiptoed into this conversation, and it feels real, regardless of anything that may leap into either of our lives and become higher priority.

So this whole thing sent my entire Saturday into a whole new sphere. And Johnny texted me and asked if I had Saturday plans and I was like, No, J, come to Los Feliz, and he did, and we drank wine and ate cheese and bread that he brought, then Seamus joined us and we all headed out for dinner at Home on Hillhurst. And in my heart, in my heavy heart that is filled with so much misery and so much poetry and music and fear and doubt and life and love, and emptiness, I feel solid. For the moment.

Hmm.
Off topic, recent amazing reconnection with Neal. From St. Louis.
He just got back to Chicago from Florida and has been texting me since, he's a saint, and I wrote:

"And today is KB day which pretty much means I basically rule the Universe."
and he replied,
"Don't you rule the Universe every day?"

Ha ha. Cute, Neal.
(Neal is a story for another post.)