yo yo charlotte

PagePage one of other times


I remember the first time I drove back to Buffalo after moving to Charlotte… vaguely, anyhow. I either stopped at a hardware store to purchase, or grabbed a screwdriver from Quail Hollow before leaving. I distinctly remember fueling up at a gas station and then uninstalling my NY plates before mounting my new NC plate on the back. At the time I felt so tough. Sure it sounds small and insignificant, but really, how many times does a person sling a new state plate on their car at a gas station before taking a 10 hour solo road trip just weeks after moving 700 miles away to a new place? I also told my employer the day before that I wasn’t sure I’d be back. Maybe Charlotte wasn’t for me. “Bad break up, gotta find a new place to live. Maybe I made a piss poor decision by coming here,” etc., etc. I got a raise on the spot, and thusly gave NC the first of another shot. Amazing what an additional dollar per hour could do in the late 90’s.

One of the best decisions ever, as I found a couple kindred spirits in the meantime. Maybe some Moosehead after work on a Thursday. Or Fairview Grill. Or wherever the hell Jeanette’s apt complex was at any given time. I vividly remember one night where I was so impressed by her washer and dryer, one on top of the other; they were freestanding in a cove/closet type area just off the kitchen. Man, was I jealous. Laundry facilities right in the house? Several feet from the fridge?? Ah, hell yeah!! And there’s something to be said for a climate where one can recline on patio furniture in comfortable temps more often than not. Either way, it sure beat the four or five steps down to the community laundry room at Sailboat Bay to the dank laundry area where it was easy to imagine any number of horrors occurring.

Has to be about 9 or 10 years since then. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss those girls. Jeanette and Lisa. Girls to whom you could tell any kind of thing. Girls that you could count on for anything. Girls who you could eat nachos with while systematically discussing how you all plan on solving that which is wrong with the world. Lucky lucky to have these friends 

 

Love

So as much as I used to cherish my Mondays and Wednesdays, because I owned them, I no longer get the pleasure they once afforded me. I am now so much more engaged in what I get every other night of the week. A warm and heavy hand that works hard six days a week, resting on my ribs and belly as I drift off to sleep and while he may snore a slight bit in my ear, I’m anchored. That breath on my neck and in my ear, and that warm body with strong legs cradling mine. That man who steals the covers every night. I was exhausted last night and couldn’t wait to sleep. Then we went to bed, and I couldn’t catch a Z. I laid there for a good half hour, soaking up the bliss of being so close to someone, while I never would have imagined I could love like this.


And I do. He’s it. 100%. I’m lucky 

09-06-2012

Planned on being in bed by ten tonight.  Now that it's almost 11, I'm thinking midnight is more realistic.  Not sure what it is, just a lot on my mind as usual, I guess.  Had an odd and disturbing premonition tonight (not going into details, seeing it was pretty morbid and very visual), but it made me want to say something before bed.  I've got the tunes on loud since I no longer have an uptsairs neighbor, and the tv is on mute for the DNC.   Won't get into what I think of that, aside from saying it sure is interesting.  I hate to say I don't get the 99% thing, maybe only because I'm appreciative of the small luxuries I have, such as my a/c pumping deliciously cool air into the bedroom where I'll lay my head on 7 or 8 pillows tonight.  When I think of that, I wonder how much right I really have to complain.  Don't get me wrong~ I want more.  But I will not be looking at my government to supply it to me.  I'm constantly and furiously rifling through thoughts as to how to make it a reality of my own volition.  With not much success to date.

I almost sent a text to Keith tonight that if anything ever happened to me, I wanted him to know about my secret blog.  After giving it a second thought, it sounded like a pretty morose and out there statement, so I will leave it up to any one of my few dear friends who are aware of this useless blog (if anyone still bothers to read it- lol) to alert Keith of it's existence in the event I ever die in some odd manner before what I'd hope was my time.  What a gloomy train of thought.  So much of my life is him though.  His laugh, his smile, his arms around me.  And I guess I feel like he to this day doesn't get that.  How much he means to who I am.  I probably don't get him either.  I get the music.  I don't get the pins, the shows, shows, shows to the point of leaving all else behind.  Someday Phish will stop touring.  I want him to be happy and I hope he gets in as much as he can of that, but I hope when that ends he doesn't find himself lost.  I hope we're still together then.  By the way, Sample in a Jar might be my favorite.

Serves me right...

So if there is such a thing as karma, I am deep in its folds.  Keith and I are heavy into year 5 or 6, and I figure he has the right to string me along for another couple years before cutting me loose, considering what I put Scott through.  That would be karma.  On the way home from Allman Brothers last night there was some PSA on 97 rock about people who get married in their late thirties or after have a way better chance of success at marriage.  He's all like, "See??  Did you hear that?"  And of course, I'm like, "Yeah, I learned that in a class I took in college.  So what are you waiting for, Jensen?"  Too dark to see his face on our back country road route.  Looked like he was smiling, but I can't be sure.  Shit if he may not consider he's still in his mid 30's, because he's not yet 38 til September. 

Anyhow, it's pretty funny how much I trust this kid.  And then how later when we aren't together how much my mind runs away and I see all possibilities of how I shouldn't trrust him, just because of my own insecurities.  Just because, how can someone be so freaking amazing?  The irony would be my own hang up wrecking everything.  I'm fighting it with ever fibre of my being.  It's not easy.  And I'm not suceeding.

"Don't think me unkind
Words are hard to find
They're only checks i've left unsigned....
Within the chaos of my mind"

I mean, for real,,,  could this guy possibly give me any more than he already does?  He does it all, except for that which I want the most.  I don't give any kind of shit about a big fat shiney ring.  I've had that.  What matters the most is that I want to lay my head on the pillow next to this man for the rest of my life.  Every night.  For the rest of my life.  Such a sap I am. 

Ugh

And it makes me feel so fine I can't control my brain....

Angry much? No, not me. Okay, so it's 7:34am and I am listening to Lay Lady Lay covered by Ministry. Trying to collect my thoughts into a rational pouch of expression with many difficulties. Just was enjoying my last post on here with that asinine real estate agent on my fridge. And shit, that was my kitchen! Anyhow, I remember buying this disc back in 92. Back then being angry was okay; I was still pretty young.

Was this real estate agent sitting on my fridge when she snapped this clandestine photo?

What the hell? Seriously. I don't remember giving this bitch permission to photograph what I call "my" kitchen, let alone post it to the intenet. In fact, I'm sure I didn't. I suppose that my indignation in this instance is inconsequential, considering I don't own this house. I do, however, own the sexy black fridge I can only surmise she was perched on with her obviously sub par digital camera.

Anyhow, there have been a few cases where my pissed offed-ness feel justified. I just