“Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens…”

It’s rather cold today. I have anticipated this change of pace, as the heat begins to bore me. Every year around this time I look forward to cloaking myself in darker colors, closed-toe shoes, my precious peacoat. Bear in mind that the summer is of course my favorite time of year; oh how I do so relish beer, baseball games and barbecues (and alliteration, haha)! But there is a redeeming quality to autumn I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t know if I make the correlation because it’s generally when people are going back to school or work, but there is a ‘fresh start’ feeling that completely washes over me toward the end of summer. It’s then that the heat begins to aggravate me, makes me scratch at my skin. It is then that I yearn for dark clouds, stout drizzles of rain. The drafty chill that lingers today, however, will suffice for now.

I went to the library this morning. It had been a few years since I read The Idiot, and as of late I have been on a Dostoevsky kick, so I checked it out, along with a few others: Bob Dylan’s Chronicles, Tropic of Capricorn, and a collection of Carson McCullers’ stories. I remember once on an airplane I read a short story by Carson McCullers about a young girl who constantly watched the man who lived across the way from her through her window, fell in love with him this way. These kinds of stories always make me nervous, because the world is full of voyeurs. But they excite me just the same.

There is an older man that lives across the way from me whose window I can’t see completely in as it is higher along the wall than mine. But to consider that, I must also consider that because my window is so much lower, he almost definitely must be able to peer inside the confines of my bedroom when the blinds aren’t closed. Sometimes I feel like wearing nothing but a costume mask and dancing around the room in silk scarves and ropes, if only for the feeling of taunting a man. 

It has been a while since I have taunted a man. Vincent begs to differ, exasperatingly explaining that all I ever do is taunt him. But he knows better, he knows me like nobody else does. I feel free to be myself with him. Sometimes I feel like we are the only two people in the universe. But in that case, his accusation proves false. For if we were the only two people in the universe, to taunt would mean more than torture. And I love Vincent and would never wish to torture him.

Drew tortures me. We have spent just a few days together, but they have been amazing. He has the power to whittle away at me with his eyes. I can’t remember when I have laughed as hard as when I do in his company. He makes me feel childlike, but in only good ways. But alas, nothing is easy; nothing comes for free. Only yesterday I discovered that Gemini, the lead singer of my old band, Screams from the Balcony, is a former lover of his. This shocked me at first, but after a moment, I resigned from this opinion. In retrospect I now remember her speaking of Andrew in a nonchalant, wishy-washy manner, as if she were trying to convince herself that she wasn’t falling in love. But we knew better.

She began writing more; darker, more gothic pieces that the rest of us just couldn’t connect with. She stopped letting us contribute toward the writing. It was common knowledge that she had started taking methamphetamines and almost stopped eating completely. My mind raced to our last show together, at Blake’s in Berkeley, where she began screaming at us to play “faster, faster, FASTER!” Well I had been playing bass about five years then, and I was playing as fast as I could, the speed of which actually impressed myself. But when she collapsed on the stage shortly thereafter, nobody saw us as rockstars. They saw us as drugged-up wannabes, dolls designed in Courtney Love’s image. She humiliated us. We prided ourselves on being professionals, having fun, feeling what we were playing, feeling the positive energy we received in abundance.

We were spent. There was no good that came from us anymore, at least as a unit. I left the band shortly thereafter, Sage and Lolita quickly followed suit. Last I heard from them, they moved in together and started a boy/girl indie pop group, sort of ala Belle and Sebastian.

It made me sad. It made me miss the music. Now I’m doing nothing but tending bar, trying to write, playing bass by myself, sometimes, and beginning something new with the cause of Gemini’s downfall. The entire reason our band fell apart. This news made me uneasy. Drew assured me he was through with drugs, that it had been a hard patch for him, a hideous bout of manic depression that he had fought through shortly after the breakup. But it’s a tough sell.

Vincent thinks I should cut my losses. And most of the time, I’m convinced he tells me that for his own selfish reasons. But now, I’m not so sure.


1 Response to ““Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens…””

  1. 1 Wes
    September 25, 2007 at 2:42 am

    I really like the way you write. Keep up the inspiring work.

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