Backtracking Updates from afar: start

Friday, April 11th, 2008
11:14 pm
start
Heres to another sunset and a long walk into forever watching the shadows dance along the wall outside your window and the wind bat your blinds around.

Nested inside your apartment, under the window,listening to your teenage neighbor play out a angst filled drama on theough her cell phone above us on the firescape.
I spent many a day here with you from 25 to just before my 27th birthday. Bike rides,and garden talk ruled the day. Deep blue eyes and shimmering blonde hair captured my interest like nothing else could. For a while like with everything at first I was happy. Being the inpatient,instant gratification live now think later thrill seeker I am, I eventually forgot who I was there staring into your eyes. Under that window, peaceful, growing older by the day and more and more pissed off at the prospect of marring semi young and cooking dinners and doing laundry for the rest of my life. So obseessed with the complacent tone my life had taken we drank, you got sick and I got tired. I stared no longer at your eyes but at your mouth, forever spewing words I couldnt stand to hear. So angry with the loud sounds that I blocked out thier meaning. Not listening, not feeling, I stumbled through our realationship looking for something. Something to do, something to say, something to make you happy something to make me happy, always something that wasnt there.

So if everything was so lacking why didnt I just leave? After forgetting how to hear you and watching you flail about everyday I missed my own laughter, and my crooked smile. Wishing for the sunshine and free range running within a mile. Living for myself, not worried about my to and fro I found I was so angry and I thought I wanted to go. I stoped looking at all for anything and became so fucking tired. To tired to use my own brain to think and be inspired. Stagnating in my own skin so afraid of any change, wishing for a natural disaster to break through to me again. I missed my funny noises,the way I wear my hair, my favorite dresses and a brand new pair of shoes. All the things that make me who I am where missing for some time lost within our day to day make ups drama and usual bickering. I found our time together straining and it began to take on the tone of a dramatical play/hollywood thriller.

The funny thing is that once I walked away, I took a trip to the japanese bath to sit in the warm watter and steam away my pain. To forget all of the nights I d spent and the days Id wept and remember who I was. I found myself I laughed a little I went home and found again a girl who played and laughed and liked to wiggle. Water trickled down our plants as I srayed them down after the first warm day of summer. All I wanted was you there to tell me which plant to water and which one to mist. To stomp through my kitchen with buckets and kneepads and watering jugs. To eat in my workspace and change my music when I wasnt looking.
I sat in my studio fabric in hand draping and cutting and pinning together. and I thought about how much I wanted to show you what I had created today. As soon as I see myself I want so much to share me, but at the frst signs of judgement or harsh eyes I curl up and shrink away. What a terrible predicament like none Ive ever seen. Something only your heart could dream up and drag you blindly into only to break halfway in and leave your body to fend for itself on the way out. A massive communication breakdown between my heart my mind and my personality they might as well all been running in different directions all at one time.

I heard her voice on your answering machine a few days later, and that is when I knew it was really over. I had been so stupidly preoccupied with everything that was wrong I forgot to stop and take another look at what was really going on. Life is one damn shady road with lessons at every turn and once you think youve got it mastered another ugly slap in the face makes itself relivant. I shouldve just taken what we had at face value and never tried to change, gone about my business and kept revisiting my sanity everynow and then. It was to easy to become consumed by your fits, and energy your endless rants and raves. All the while never wanted to engauge. I realize now because I felt to juded at everyturn I never really became comfortable with you, or let you in at all. I found you untrustworthy and scary and I kept things that way. I hid inside confused and troubled and amazed at the sizable situations I had gotten in. With my heart peices ratteling inside me wishing for all this change I find myself again alone in the night wondering why in the hell is hindsight always 20/20? You caught me at an impressionable time however, your mid twenties can sometimes prove to be a huge disapointment.

I remember my 25th birthday realizing I had reached my expiration date. Dressed in my burlesque costume parading around the huge warehouse in the industrial district of San Francisco. Yelling and waving my arms above my head and dealing with every problem you could imaging that goes right along with throwing a huge rave for yourself on your birthday. Staring blankly into faces all night wishing I was somewhere else. Listening to the music rattle off the brick walls and out the heavy metal doors. Watching everyone I knew come,stand,talk about each other, make thier way to the bathroom to add white rings to the bottoms of thier nasal cavities and then come out and do it all over again for hours. This is the basic anatomy of a party in San Francisco.

Wishing all night Olliver would stopp playing 80;s music and lay off popping muscle realaxers for his broken sternem and contaning Jason who had ODed on the floor before the party even began. Watching my date show up with another woman and realizing that it was all over. The party was about to die, and I was about to launch into real life without a parachute.

My burlesque troupe was a high point, spanning my early twenties with performace, and dance. Gold lamay and a reputation for sex on wheels. We toured and shimmed our way into many high paying gigs. Glittered myself up and fake tanned away any imperfections and strode onto the stage with my happy face on through many a hung over evening. We were the talk of the underground. I was a mess. No one belives how much of a mess I had truely become because on the surface I had perfected the art of entertaining. Hosting parties at my house and being seen at all of the best events in town. Which in San Francisco is a full time job in itself.

The potlucks on tuesday at my house were always full in attendance and rich with the young and highly pretentious. Doing blow off of each other in the bathroom and spilling wine all over my kitchen floor on a tuesday night till 3am. These were the wonder years, were everyday was a new one and working as a barmanager and entertainer went seamlessly together to form one amazing alter ego persona. You lack the ability to look past next week in your early twenties and live in a blissfull bubble of happy party times and sudden jolts of terror when someone speaks of getting old. Even though you dont yet understand what getting old could mean at all. Changes come and go and everyone seems to roll right along with them. Midnight motorcyle rides from bar to bar end in sinny dipping at any apartment complex you can enter with the delivery food guy. Working is just something I did at the bar anyway and slowly I began to feel like once again something. That something was missing. What the hell am I looking for all the time. In perfectly clear and easy situations I find myself searching for an out, or a ladder to the roof.

All of the party people started to loose thier glitter, bags under eyes showed more than not and finding myself on the street at 8am on a monday dressed in a floor lenghth gown and a fur stole was commonplace. My sunglasses hid my eyes as my crew abided by a set of rules made available to only the priveleged few. Always be headed to a hide out by 430 am. Hideouts were houses,flats,lofts,places with hottubs and soft sleeping areas. Never a warehouse,or another party. No decent socailite would be seen at a party in public after 430 am. This was silly, everyone starts to look bad after hours of drinking and dancing around on cement floors. Often we took victims from parties with us for sexual needs when leaving venues. Sometimes two or three girls at a time. Those times called for bigger places such as the Anton Levay house, or someones three story loft with rooftop hottub. There were never a shortage of parties and never a shortage of shady bastards waiting for the opportunity to have me and my ontourage use thier home as a landing strip.

We always got at least some sleep, absoulutely no cocaine at this time even though it had at one point been a huge factor in my energy past 8am everyday. Massive ingestion of booze was mandatory and ofter excessive. Drugs were always around, but often used as a tool to entertain one of us. You could become the focus of jokes if you couldnt handle your high so everyone was wary of doing drugs with one and other. It was on the surface every young girls dream. Free entry to any club free drinks and dancing when ever we wanted, girls boys and any place in the city at the snap of a finger or the drop of a hat.