R.I.P.

stuff

it is the packing, ive determined, that is the worst part of moving. putting all your shit together. the entire clutter of you.

but then - shit. unpacking.

the noisy disorder of my life sprawled out on a messy apartment floor.

the memories - all which is sentimental. these meaningless things. objects with no significance other than some strange attachment to my history.

i got crap, junk, faded mementos sitting on shelves. drawings from friends ill never see again, scribbled while high on meth. gifts from girls i never want to talk to. containers filled with mysteries ill have to figure out.

fucking containers.

cigar boxes. little wooden contraptions. cardboard boxes still taped up.

and shoe boxes. shoe boxes. shoe boxes stuffed with what? bills long paid or long overdue. ancient musings on scraps of paper. old cassettes that have no labeling. letters from ex girlfriends i dont even know anymore.

it is a daunting task, but its easier than packing.

it is unpacking. cleansing. a modern purification. right?

all this then

so the strangest thing happened last night...

i got home pretty late, but she wasnt here. she went out with friends and wasnt home yet. thats normal.

i ate some chips, watched some tv, and passed out on the couch. i woke up at about 530 and the pale blue-gray of dawn was beginning to rise outside the windows. i picked up the plate i had and the empty bag of chips and went to the kitchen to clean up a little. there is a sliding door that stands between the bedroom and the front room, it was closed.

thats weird, i thought. we never close that door.

in the front room is a couch that basically miles and sophie took over. i figured maybe she came home and passed out on it. i slide open the door and on the couch i see two people jump up, one slightly jumping off the other.

whats all this, then? im thinking.

her and this guy ive never seen before are sitting there. she says hi and the guy stays quiet and is staring at the floor and i continue pass them to the kitchen, only saying, -so whats going on? ive never seen such guilt in two people sitting still.

the guy immediately gets up and starts unlocking the door to leave. she sits there half sprawled, her legs drunkenly crossed beneath her clean white skirt. shes saying nothing. because im an asshole i smile and say to the guy, -where ya going dude? stick around.

he muttered something about the light in the sky and needing to to head home and the whole time he looked at the floor and not me. sophie jumped onto a windowsill and i stroked her and she purred and her tail stood up all puffy with excitement.

-right, i said. she ask me about an apartment i was looking at and her voice cracks and slurs. the guy opens the door and slips out and i walk over and close it behind him. i dont answer her question i just sit down next to her and sigh.

-really? i ask, really?

she says he is a friend of hers from hawaii and i can tell shes trying with everything in her not to roll her eyes back and pass out. -we were just hanging out, she says.

miles crawled on the arm of the couch and starts to claw and scratch at it like it called him a dirty name. i sat there and thought about it for a second and the yellow of morning began to bleed into the room. she put her head in her arm and leaned on the back of the couch. all i could hear were bird songs everywhere outside. her breathing heavy and drunk.

-right, i sighed. then i got up and went back to the living room couch and watched tv before i fell asleep.

the thing is, i understood. id been there. and there was no anger or jealousy, just this sad understanding. this melancholy empathy, between us. we spent tonight eating burgers and watching television. i laughed at a joke she told and we hugged and kissed before she went to bed. what a strange age we are going through.

upon us

This is all very strange, this thing between us.

We have to consider all involved in the matter. The furniture. The cats. The bills we’ll have to take on.

Not to mention the friendship. Our friends. Our acquaintances. Our colleagues. All have to be considered when dealing with the delicate situation of splitting up. All love us. All have their allegiances.

And the very nature of our relationship has changed. The things we didn’t do, as well as the things we did, take on new definitions. A kiss good night. A phone call during the day. The checking in occasionally, all have different meaning. If we didn’t do it before we surely don’t do it now, but its noticeable. If we did it before now we don’t do it, and its noticeable. The things we never noticed are now so very noticeable.

The curses of our indifference, coming to fruition.

a rush

The days move by quick and without mercy. Everyday is filled with a new burden. I must find an apartment. I must finish up a school assignment. I must maintain the civility that has loosely woven itself into my relationship with lea. I must be at the bar and smile and be cordial. I must play my part in setting up marketing events for an album my company has out. I must watch a movie about Moroccan hip hop that I will be DJing the after party for. I must set up a new album we will be putting out in September. I must write and write more. I must keep a level head through all this. Through all these thoughts and shredded heart.

The other night lea came to the bar and everyone was drunk and so no one said anything awkward. I huddled far from the crowd not knowing what to say and curious on how this would play out. It was her first time there since we had broken up. She’d been nervous about going because that’s more my crowd than hers. She arrived soaked in courage and sass. Fresh from an evening with her gay friends who all night reminded her of how smart, sexy, and desirable she was. We hugged hello and I gave her a beer and slinked away nervous of what was to come.

No one looked at me strangely, they all knew the score and were playing it calmly. They smiled and called her over for an embrace. They told her they missed her and asked her where she’d been. She smiled shyly and muttered that she had been busy, understanding they were sparing her the discomfort of addressing what was really going on. Pretending they had no idea. Acting as if nothing had ever gone wrong and nothing ever would.

This was right before the rush. At about 1:30 am.

The rush itself was unexpected. All these young bodies in twos and threes. Girls and boys dressed to the nines. Ordering beers in a bottle or whiskeys and ginger ale. They were led by one of our bartenders —a new one who just started. A very attractive and mysterious girl named Kendra— who herself was fit into a tight black dress that didn’t quite reach the bottom of her thighs. Suddenly it was authentic: we were busy. We had a rush.

I scrambled around taking orders and pouring drinks. I made an extra effort to ensure no one was without a glass or bottle in his or her hand. I busied myself with the full extent of my duties. Anything to prevent me from engaging in conversation.

She sat at the corner of the bar, surrounded by people eager to get a piece of her. They laughed to loudly sometimes and I would glance over. Some one would bark for another drink and id get it without hesitation. The music was loud and the voices rose and merged into a confusing din of conversation. She eyed me but I ignored her.

The rush began to die down and she got ready to leave. She stumbled across the bar and waved to me to come over. I walked up to her and she asked if I would walk her out. I nodded. Outside the moon drowned out the street lamps and the kids on the block screeched with the warm excitement of early summer. We stood next to her vespa and she stared at me with slurring eyes. We both swayed in alcohol and heartache and the early morning wind. She reminded me again, that we were single. She asked if I understood that and I nodded. She asked if it was what I wanted and I nodded again. She looked at the keyhole on the scooter and I looked at the ground. She grabbed her keys and inserted them and I stepped back to let her pull out.

Well I guess I’ll see you at home, she said. I just nodded again. Then she pulled off and I watched as she left.

And this is the undercurrent of my busy days. The noose around my neck. This next month will be very long, I presume.