Daze

The first gift I opened right after he opened Funko Morrissey...we share a brain, me and that guy

Yeah, how cute. He knows everything about me. Thanos is my Marvel boyfriend and I already have his Funko Pop from Avengers Infinity War and months ago R was like, Why do you have him? and I was like, because I crush hard on Thanos. R was like, Thanos is a villain. I was like, Yeah, I know.

I'm barely cohesive at the moment, so tired, have been napping off and on all day, Everyday is Like Sunday, but I have had the most amazing end of year with R, ever. Best birthday celebration of his as mentioned, and most impressive belated Christmas wherein we opened so many gifts that we got for each other (I'm not going to brag about all of them but he got me a triptych postcard of Dodger Stadium shot in 1989 - he knows Dodger Stadium is my most favorite stadium - AND THAT I WORKED ON UPGRADES THERE!) and he got me this Sleater-Kinney book about the album Dig Me Out and he got me other stuff, too, but all I really want to say is opening gifts that we wanted to gift each other was like being in a different universe. A better one. 

I cooked for him. It was *not* my best foot forward. It has been a long time and cooking is NOT like riding a bike...you kind of lose your momentum. I'll gain it back, I'm not concerned. 

We did crossword puzzles together - can I say? Love energy? I don't know why couples would go to such extensive lengths to impress one another if all you required was something pajama-clad and cuddling and infusing as such a thing as a crossword puzzle.

So we did that. "Your handwriting is so nice."

We listened to music (as we always do) and ate cheese later after dinner (as we always do) and re-started our London LEGO set as we considered either we were tipsy or too distracted on our first date to have started it correctly, so now it is on its rebound and ready to go.

Saturday morning, he slept for a lifetime. I was up by like 8:30 and wandered around the apartment staring at things that needed attention but kept also watching his sleeping corpse, because it was so cute and I longed for him to wake and kiss me and all of that stuff but he was blissfully asleep.

I showered and went to therapy and came back and he was cozy on the couch with crosswords again. Here is my world: R, manila folder, stacks of printed New York Times crossword puzzles, and he's using one of the purple pens I gave him to populate the words.

I am so in love it's now insane.

So, we took a long walk in Forest Hills. Joked about real estate and how I'd afford a home here, for us. He got a cortado at Pink Forest. We held hands almost the entire day unless we were pointing at things.

We went to Cucina around the corner from Mr. Vino (same owner) and salivated over stupidly beautiful olives, the selection of cheeses, the interesting beers (him, not me) and the sheer magnitude of the selections. I was like, Hey, R, see how great FH is?

Then we had more food. I did better. Salmon, Brussels sprouts and orzo.

I'm, um. I think I am in love. This might hurt someday which I must prepare myself for.

But I don't think he is going to hurt me. I don't know. But I hope not.

Pleas

Queens Trees, Winter 2019 

Gifts to Me and Gale, My Best Friend because She Fucking Rocks. Well, and I do, too.

Gift for my Dad, because, well, he helped me build my life.

Rob's Christmas Gifts (because he fucking rocks.)

KB's kitchen at 69th Avenue and Queens Blvd in Forest Hills / it rocks

Merry Christmas!

5:45 in the morning and I'm awake. Like a kid. Only, I'm far from being a kid.

I just splattered a clunky set of photos but the only reason is because I'm in a clunky time of my life. That said, thus commences this Christmas post.

December 17th (8:34 AM) was Rob's 45th birthday. I was elated, as I am when it comes to birthdays, and I began the celebration by texting him at precisely 8:34 AM. 

He had celebrated with his friends and family leading to *the day* so I was the proud owner of *the day.* No one in this universe who knows me needs me to further expand / expound upon the fact that me owning the day was significant. Even Rob, wow...7 months into this situation...(I just gasped and counted the months on my fingers...my knees are weak) knows how spending his day with him was monumental. 

So we met for coffee in Chelsea. 

Small place, Gotham Coffee Roasters. I got there first and I was placing my order for an iced coffee and requested oat milk and the cute butch lesbian barista, maybe like...mid-twenties, was like, I am so sorry, we are out of oat milk, and I screeched, You are out of oat milk? (then smiled to show I was playing.) I heard in my ear, Is there anything good here? And it was Rob, the hero of my life, right behind me.

He ordered a cortado and we sat at a cute tiny table and made eyes at each other. Because, that's what lovers do.

Then we took the F train to South Slope. We went for Thai at Jintana Thai Farmhouse, went to his apartment, and drank wine and bourbon and ate cheese and olives and listened to Morrissey and kissed and other stuff. 

We talked at length. A lot of words came out of our mouths that were pertinent to us moving on together.

Big deal: I packed an overnight bag. My first night there I did not and had to do what I lovingly have dubbed the "Uber ride of shame" (back to Queens to shower and change.)

Thing is, I am in love. I never have been. So this is foreign territory and I'm lost in the desert. 

Stupid (and not stupid) shit:

I walk up to his 4th floor apartment and I see his shoes on his shoe rack right outside of his apartment: I swoon. Shoes. KB, they're shoes.

He gives me water before bed. What a gentleman. 

His shower temperature sucks. (I'll learn it, Rob.)

Rob,

I love your cats. I hope we get to keep Jenny, she is sweet.

Now - I need you.

Animals

New York Public Library

We are products of the 90's

He took his friend Brian to see Margaret Atwood at the NYPL for her 80th birthday

Was I envious? Of course I was. But we've had a good date week, 2 dates total, and that he took Brian to Atwood is totally acceptable. But I bought him 2 First Edition Atwood poetry books for his birthday to commemorate that he got to see her in that forum. 

Starting with Sunday. He has passes to events through work so he invited me to the New York Public Library Holiday Party.

I'm dumb. Have lived in this City since 2006 and never had stepped foot in the NYPL. What the F, KB? Good god is it the most gorgeous house I've ever seen. Breathtaking. Nothing is not in its right place. Oh. My.

So, that was a nice time inclusive of some animal behavior in the bathroom (um, oops.) 

Then: guess what? I went to his apartment for the first time.

It was pleasantly comforting and interestingly inviting. Not that I would think it would not be, but I've been hyper nervous. Is she still lurking? I saw a St. Louis Cardinals cup in the sink and rolled my eyes (why do our baseball teams have to be the same, man) but it mostly seems to be that she is gone gone.

I met Jenny and George, the cats that rule the house. They are sweet creatures.

So then...I mean, I stayed over. Huge. He gave me whiskey and I gave him a back massage. 

And then the next day I had purchased us Pixies (AND KRISTIN HERSH) tickets at Webster Hall. Two nights back to back dates. 

We met on the corner of 3rd and 11th and wound up at an Australian restaurant called Ruby's. I still suffer from the "I don't want to eat in front of a boy" issue, and I had just eaten at another place before I met him anyway, so I had a watermelon cocktail while he ate.

There was a fire. At The Smith around the corner. A grease fire. New Yorkers love snapping photos of chaos.

The show was AMAZING. Kristin AND Pixies. 

Rob was so into it. I could not help but fall more deeply in love.

The lady called during the show. He showed me his phone, didn't answer it, but my brain got a bit fucked up. I mean...what am I supposed to do? Expect her to dissipate into black ash once they divorce?

After the show we went to this place he loves called The Library of Distilled Spirits or something to that tune.

He started acting odd.

He was like, I think I'm just going to go home.

Obviously, I was crestfallen and felt kicked in the gut - I had just taken him to a hugely awesome concert AND I paid for his Australian dinner? What the heck, man.

He was like, you're going to be so upset.

I said, Yes, yes I am. 

We've been talking about this for months.

Well.

He wound up coming home with me begrudgingly knowing I'd otherwise be really upset.

I pretty much contribute any of that to the fact that she was calling him. No idea about what. No real concern unless she is trying to lure him back, which wouldn't shock me. 

Anyway.

I love him.

Libraries

What I'm calling Saturday's Installation 

Good morning, Queens and the rest of the World. I had a zesty Saturday consisting of therapy, fresh flower shopping (hosted in the above pic), some intermittent watching of the new Noah Baumbach film Marriage Story (which, despite the impressive height of Adam Driver towering at...well over 6'? was slightly mundane...we get it, Noah, marriage sucks) (and getting it out of it is even worse!) (speaking for a friend since thank good grassy land I haven't had to)...but last night, everything changed.

He called me. 

Out of the blue called me. We didn't schedule it (as we normally do) nor did we text an advanced alert, he just...called me. And we talked for what my ridiculous iPhone states "1 Hour."

It kind of felt like being 15 again. My...boyfriend called. On the phone. And we had a fantastic conversation. 

I say this to people pretty popularly but feeling 15 again is unreal. Who knew I wanted to relive that nightmare of brooding and sulking but you know...I was only convinced I was in love one time before. It was Mike, RIP because he has since passed. He stole my entire soul and routed it in different directions and he made me feel beautiful and ugly all at the same time.

The others: I loved them all, sure. 

Rob though: this is me, 15, blushing when his name escapes my lips, scared I'll never be enough but confident that I am, and able and ready to sidle up next to him and show him a lifetime filled with love.

Today, we are going on a date to the New York Public Library Holiday Party.

He is libraries to me.

Sightings

Flowers for me from last weekend (I love this new ritual...it delights me)

Just...the sky is amazing this year. Everywhere. Mother Earth is apologetic for years past.

So this post.

He told me that he loves me.

I'm a big girl. I can pick this apart a little bit, I guess. I am lovable and incredible (know these things) but I'm obviously sensitive to what the existing conditions are. 

I'm also a poet and looking for poetry in my life in general, so, idealistic plus dark plus all of the rumblings that come along with falling for someone...yes yes. 

We can get through all of this somehow but for today what I'd like to say is that I encountered him (visually! I didn't approach) today emerging from his favorite coffee shop in our "shared work office" neighborhood.

There is a really relaxed bar that I frequent on W. 38th, between 5th and 6th Avenues, so when I leave W. 37th (my office address) and head north along 6th Ave, I turn right on the South side of 38th and right there is Culture, the coffee shop he loves. He takes a coffee break around 5:30 every evening and returns to work for an hour after. As I was nearing the corner of 38th and 6th, I turned to look to my right (as I traditionally do in the event I'll have a sighting) and I saw him pushing through the door in his favorite Met ball cap, half turned to laugh at a friend behind him.

My heart dropped directly into my toes and I felt a mad flush filling my face and so instead of turning to go say hello, I raced across the intersection to the opposite side of 38th and fled the scene. I ended up at a new (very chill and nice) bar and I bellied up and texted to him, "How was your coffee?"

He replied, "Did you see me, KB?"

Are you following me?

A whole lot has happened since I began this post in September.

This photo depicts a sticker he saw on a pole or bollard in Iceland last week when he took a solo self-reflecting retreat (I would have gone, however the no passport thing is a bit of an issue...need to apply for a new one, stat.) The signs of us having crossed paths (regardless of if the timing has been rotten) (...rotten...and right, all at the same time somehow)...are virtually everywhere, even Internationally.  

In any event, we fought last night on the phone fairly harshly (despite date of this post, today is 12/02/2019.) We didn't say anything mean *about* one another, rather just heatedly discussed (for the zillionth time) how his existing relationship (while they've separated) doesn't seem to have any conclusion, ever. He gets high-pitched and shrieks F bombs about the whole thing while all the while* "understanding" my reservations and frustrations. 

He allegedly moved back home (to his owned apartment) today and it snowed a bit and was freezing and we have had no communication as of yet today.

Oh, yeah. He moved to his Mom's 11/01. He's giving this to-be-ex way too much freedom to call the shots. It's annoying. 

(FYI, my next post will address the awesome Thanksgiving Holiday I had with Gale and her crew...Bets, Miles, Rich & Quinn) and how I got aggressively stoned and how I took the Amtrak and how we cooked a 5.5 lb bird and Rich kept calling it a chicken and I think so did Gale, ha ha...how I did art with the kids and with Rich, and how I gained close to 8 lbs while there...drinking, eating, weed munchies...etc.)

Anyway, we have tickets to see The Pixies (and Kristin Hersh's new band!) 12/09...he is / was hoping I'd stay over at his place after the show. 

*THAT MEANS SHE NEEDS TO BE MOVED OUT, ROB.*

(Insert: Gale just texted that she wants her kids to go the hell to bed already. I said that she should tell them Auntie KB won't double the allowance money they earned from me if they don't go to bed. She said, "I don't want to talk to them anymore." I'm in a fancy place about to eat dinner solo and laughed out loud, semi-hyena.)

So, yeah, Rob. 

If I were to write a letter to Rob, it would go a little like this:

Dear Rob,

I want to be your girlfriend. Can you please tell me you want the same thing? Can you tell me in any other words how this has dragged out for so long? Can you tell me anything at all that will ease the irritation I feel knowing that we went on our first date in June and it's the end of the year and close to your 45th birthday and this is still an issue?

Can you remind me that you love me? Can you realize how significant it is that I gave you keys to my first studio apartment in the City? Can you remember all of the epiphany moments we had together, even well before we met in person?

I get it - losing someone to a bad experience. You keep holding the paperwork as a hierarchy over what I've been through (I've stated, that isn't fair.) 

I just want to begin again. With you. 

Love,

Kristin.

*PS: my newfound 2nd band name. 1st was hatched in Virginia but I was quite stoned and would have to look at my phone to find it. I think it had to do with turkey or eggs or something.

Oh. Found it: Garlic Heads Halved Horizontally (from turkey recipe.)