July 07, 2013


Shack with Arm Reaching to Climb Out, Somewhere Between Carpinteria, California and Santa Barbara, California, June 30, 2013 (photo credit KB, Instagram credit KB)

Wherein I begin the daunting task of staking claim to the world that was mine for four solid days in the later portions of June and the earlier portions of July, 2013...although I first must confess: I'm still reeling over learning his band (Phish) has covered my band (Neutral Milk Hotel) on multiple occasions (just found this fact yesterday.) That just feels...like I texted my friend Lindsay, "The Universe is like, since you didn't pay attention before, will you NOW??"

July 4, 2013, text:
me: "Nothing is the same when I'm not with you."
him: "I know."

He landed Sunday, June 30, at LAX. The last time we saw each other was April 21st, a Sunday which left us feeling filled with spirit, followed by an evil Monday which would find us in complete chaos: in other words, we broke up.

I don't know how using the words "broke up" can actually apply to us. I've never known what we are. He claims we were at one time "boyfriend/girlfriend" but that hardly seems like an appropriate tag for what we've become for each other.

So, he grabbed a rental car and crossed the sprawl of Los Angeles to arrive at my Los Feliz position. And he came into my apartment, and he flashed his war wounds (bicycle accident the night before on the Brooklyn Bridge) and popped open his laptop to show me the story of it that he had hastily but brilliantly authored on his cross-continental flight. He has two bruised knees, a gouge in his chin (making it difficult for him to shave so he's 5 o'clock shadowed), an injured left hand and battled left shoulder. And he totes a smallish bruised ego.

I...wanted to just naturally grab onto him and curl up in a circle with him and recollect every single moment of ours. But obviously, this trip of his would prove to be about other things, things of significance: things to cause us both to stand and take notice of life as it has unfolded before our eyes.

We got it together and jumped in the rental car and headed north, along the coast (sort of) to find his family in Nipomo, California. There was a scenic route adventure happening, and all the while, I was in the passenger seat waiting, waiting to hate being on a road trip (that never happened.)

me: "Are you taking a picture of me lifting these heavy boxes?"
him: "No comment."

I just get annoyed so easily. I get bored, really restless with life. And I expected our very hastily thrown together road trip to Nipomo to bug me. On the contrary, and to my pleasure, it was one of the best days I've ever had, in all fullness of my existence. We seemed to be sympatico, sitting there next to one another with the heat of everything that has happened rolling through but not hurting us. At some point we did stop for 10 avocados for $1.

Avocado Guy: "Hey, have you guys been here before? You look familiar."
Greg: (Looking around) "Um, no, this is our first time. Do a lot of people who look like us come here?"

And it just felt right. And we stopped in Santa Barbara at some major Santa Barbara taco institution for homemade flour tortillas and cheesy tomato soup and I had chorizo, and we drank cokes. And we eventually made it to Nipomo and his family was still at the beach so we let ourselves into his uncle's house, and sat on the couch and he flashed those copper eyes at me and said, "Hey. Did you think it would be weird to see me?" Or perhaps he phrased it "is it weird seeing me?" but however and whatever it was, however this exchange took place, the bottom line is that we were settling into some great place, together. In Nipomo, California. Of all places in the world to reconnect.

So I'd not yet met his mom. His mom is one of the most important people in his life. And, to be honest, introducing the two of us was clearly and quite evidently a major life event. The doors opened and there were voices and the family had returned from the beach and before I could think, his mom was standing there, and we hugged, and I met her. And it was this amazing thing. And I met Bob, her new husband (who is just awesome, which should go without saying) and Don (Greg's uncle, Jill and Scott's dad) and Mary (Don's girlfriend) and at some point Jill and her girlfriend Kelly rolled in, and even later still, Scott showed up, smoking a cigar and drinking a Coors, in swim trunks and bare chested.

I need to publish this now. There is so, so, so much more to say. I have barely brushed the surface of these days. But, I'm thinking I have launched well into the story, so far. And as for falling in love? I have found that. Enough said.

July 04, 2013


Happy 4th of July, America. This is a difficult (and amazing) post for me to begin, and I only have a small hour because my friend Lindsay is headed over at 12:15 with ice cubes, gluten-free crackers, Gatorades and straws. It's a Holiday, okay? Mysterious items of somewhat worth are required on a Holiday. We're actually having Bloody Mary's at my apartment before heading out on a quest to Santa Monica by bus, out to Johnny and Nilla's (they are having a party.) I'm serving Lindsay cheese, salami and red grapes prior. And the Gatorades are for...consumption on the bus, I'll just say that.

I could start from the end and return to the beginning, or I can just blurt out that last night, late, after 4 *unbelievably mature and amazing days* with Greg (who just left my apartment, this morning, 5:32AM or something...I left him at the front of my apartment door, then darted up the stairs of my apartment's entrance to watch him retreat; at the end of my block, where his rental was parked, he was a spot on the horizon, he turned, and saw me there, and we held majorly long distance gazing for about 30 seconds before he turned to go) I found out he kissed someone else, in the past two weeks, blah and I won't go too into detail because that isn't the significant thing. I know her, and I know his interest level in her as compared to his interest in me (and I later, way late last night, after we argued over the issue with some coherent adult thoughts and some childish not-playing-nice-in-the-sandbox thoughts) I explained something that ultimately made it clear to me why that stolen kiss (which he wishes now he could erase, and I believe it, because I've had those, plenty, in my distant past) even exists. And we had emotional highs and lows (mostly highs) before he finally fell asleep, me wrapped in his arm, at a very late time (after much significant conversation.)

So I've formulated our past 4 days in my mind in an organized structure. I want to fill in the details, but again, Linds will be here and I need a shower and to get our snacks in order and finish making my messy bed (G and I were reckless sleepers these past days; we aren't normally) but I do not want to let go of any of the large progress we made (aside from what happened which I had to probe him about) (again, I really don't want to linger on that...I am far, far different to him from any other person in his life and that is largely due to both of us living chemically exactly in the same precise blink of an eye, every blink of either of our eyes, except when things are rough, which will be explained far later on.)

So I am going to summarize, with plans to fill in details later this weekend. I cannot lose what happened to passing time. Regardless of whether we make this go on for eternity, as we both subtly expressed we want at Echo Park Lake (shown above) or if this was our last go at it...so many, many, many intimate and amazing details fell upon my lowly existence, like buying 10 avocados in California for $1, with no intended purpose for them. Like how he showed up at my apartment door Sunday morning in his Brooklyn hipster print-tee, and I was in the one I bought at the same store he bought his. How later, way later, he commented, tugging on the hem of mine, "Nice shirt." How he *never* *EVER* doesn't stride over to me and blaze those copper eyes at me and whisper, or even just mouth, "Okay?" or, "You okay?" How his fingers curl in hesitation, or the way his lips move to show me what he's thinking.

I don't think this is the time for this. This weekend *is*, but not today. He is on a plane right now hovering over the states, headed back to New York (he lands in Newark, ouch!) and he has since (before flight) sent me some communication basically indicating he isn't going to the party tonight that *the other girl* has insisted he come to. I know he's sorry for all that, and I know that she (because I know who she is, and have met her, and have been perpetually like "YIKES!" about how forward her personality is, at least, for someone like me) will probably be pained at his absence. Although, since she and I are Facebook Friends (innocently, well before any of any of this) knowingly she has seen my many Greg posts over the past days but *I AM NOT* doing anything wrong. I am simply living out what Greg and I always sort of sketched our next steps to be. *I* didn't throw an arrow at either of them. Arrows were rather thrown at me.

More to come. Better recollection of these days. These have been the very best days, in my Greg goings-on, that I've had, we've had. Hugely pivotal.

Now, off to be engrossed in the Red, White & Blue.