H is for Hollow...

I was standing outside of a bathroom door. I had to empty the last of my drink into my gut. The night was winding down, or maybe, just getting started. I could smell the chain smoke on my fingers. I looked out, through the dark, over the bar, past the white lights, around the tables and into the dance floor. A little girl twirled. That is all they do, twirl. Then they get older and break your fucking heart. The bride danced, her new husband head and shoulders above the crowd. The breeze had died down, but the cold still hung around. My empty cup joined some distant cousins on a crowded post. Men in nice suits and cheap tuxes shared stories that must have been about conquests or drunken choices; their eyes and laughs gave them away. Some friends of mine huddled around a low table smoking, drinking, smiling and dancing just a little. I made myself promise not to forget the scene: the lights, the air, the joy and my heart beating in my head. The door opened and I walked in. "I'm going to sit here on the step, it is warm in here." I leaned down and kissed her.

8/26

G is for Guarantee...

"I guarantee you I will screw this song up"

The word guarantee always reminds me of that quote. It's from Nirvana's Unplugged album. How that relates to this and the rest of things, we will see.

I am in Reno, Nevada, it is the summer of either 2002 or 2003. A friends aunt had just been married. The bride, groom, men in suits, women in dresses, little kids twirling, drunk cousins and my friend are milling about. We are at the Peppermill in some suite. There's a jacuzzi tub and wet bar. (Actually, it might have just been a bar. I'm not sure what a wet bar is.) There is also a big curved black couch. The decor is total 80's-coke-party-Vegas-Lifetime-movie-shit. A drunk cousin comes bouncing in with two bottles of vodka he swiped from another suite that had a maid in it cleaning the bathroom. I am sitting on the couch. I am suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that the bed that some little kid is bouncing on will soon have all sorts of other similar but different movements happening on it. I hear water being drawn in the bath and there is talk of a baby taking a bath in the jacuzzi tub. This is supposed to be a wedding reception. My friend's mother taps me on the shoulder and asks if I am ok. I had been sitting next to her on the couch and when she touched me it occurs to me that I had trailed off in mid-sentence. I tell her the Coors Light must be getting the best of me quicker than I expected. I am peeling at the label to distract me from the strange reception that I am at. She puts her hand on my thigh, our eyes meet, and she hands me the label from her beer.

"You know, if you give someone an intact label peeled from a beer then they owe you a sexual favor."

7/26

On passing you on the highway exactly an hour ago

To Whom It May Concern,

There's space between the really important things in our lives. Between the seconds, the breaths, and the tears. We don't notice it, we don't think of it, at least I didn't use to. Now it is all I think about. Every left turn shows a right. Every laugh holds a tear. And every heart-beat is separated by a non-beat. These gaps that we don't think about sometimes hold hands and turn themselves into days weeks and months of space. Focusing on these little things will drive me crazy, errr, crazier. And I think you might think this is a little abstract, but this is just a foundation.

I've been out of town for the last few days. You knew about that. I'll be around for a few more hours then its back out into oblivion. I hear you've been asking about that. I've been stumbling through airports and social situations that we used to plan together. Your name comes up in casual conversations in beds, bars and brothels. People ask how you are, or how you've been, or where you are, or where you are going; but I've seen these eyes and looks before. They are asking about me. I'm not a narcissist. But they want to know the edge is further from me then it seems. Don't pat yourself on the back though. They've asked these questions before and if I was a betting man I'd say they'll ask again. And I am. And they will.

I sleep on less couches lately. But I can still find one when I need to, and they still feel like home.

I digress.

I saw you today, we passed each other on the road. I was headed North, yourself South. It reminded me of the spaces. For three short seconds I watched you living, 40 miles an hour in the opposite direction. My car smelled like cigarettes as the wind pushed the last remaining thoughts of shitty slave wage labor out of the window. I couldn't tell what was on your mind. But I know it wasn't me. And that's good.

I keep seeing people get married. I watched a couple get married on the beach yesterday from behind some glass. Then they came upstairs and I served them and their guests drinks. A lot. Everyone was happy. There were people from all over the world. It was raining cats and fucking dogs outside. There was a moment, just a second, where I was pouring shots for the family, and the music was real loud, and most people were dancing and I realized that I was in one of the spaces.

Clarity sometimes comes at the expense of others.

This day could someday be an anniversary

The hills are burning. It might be an omen, for the right or wrong decision. I don't really know. The thing is, about this, about all of this, was that when it first started to fall apart, last October, I thought my heart was broken then. I thought I had healed it, that things were getting better. But now that I look back on the last ten months I know that wasn't true. It broke big that day, in the bathroom, but it didn't heal. I just sort of added stuff into the crack, and it fell out. It broke a little more everyday. I did it to myself, which is the part that I don't like to admit. I thought I would be able to fix it, I couldn't. I thought I could look past it, I wouldn't. I thought I could forget it, I can't. To borrow from a friend of mine, to take something from him about something much more important and tragic than this, and try to attach it to something less, "in like a lion, out like a lamb gone astray". I was excited to plan a wedding, I was excited to wear a suit, I was excited to dance to my favorite songs, with my mom and dad and all my friends. I was excited for beer koozies and burritos, bachelor parties, cans on the back of a car, a honeymoon, all of it. And I miss it all right now. A lot.

I know it is right, that I am not getting married today. It isn't her fault. It isn't my fault. It is how the cards were dealt and how they were played. It would have been an epic party, the hills burning, it snowing ash on the bride and groom. It sounds too good to be true. And it is.

I've been running this in my head for months. It isn't a final draft, but I need to get them out of my head, for me.

I remember the first time I saw your smile. I remember the first time I heard your whit. I remember the first time we sat on the couch and shared all those surface level things that make us more of who we are then we care to admit. I remember the first time we got drunk together. I remember the first time we fought. I remember the first time we made up. I remember saying goodbye to you at the airport, and it being one of the saddest days of my life. I remember opening the door to you the day I got back, and how happy I was. I remember waking up in my tent, in my old room, with you, and it feeling perfect. I remember asking you to marry me on the beach that night, and puking afterward. I remember all the downs, and all the ups, all the hot days and the cold ones. I never wanted to spend them with anyone else, and I am glad that starting today, I never have to spend them with anyone else. I love you.

I wanted this to be the song we danced to. I'm sorry no one will ever see it.

About that picture

We went walking from her parents house down to the beach. We drank some beer and some brandy. We accidentally interrupted another couple enjoying the moonlit night. We stood a few hundred feet from the spot on the beach where the picture on the top of this blog was taken.

I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a ring. I didn't have an idea what the reaction would be. But I did it anyway. I got on both knees and asked her to marry me. If one is good, then two should be better, yeah? And she said yes. It was 1:16 in the morning. And only us, the moon, and the oceans knew.

I woke up in the morning, and we were both curious if we were still going to do it. We were. And we are. Phone calls were made to parents and the closest friends. Text messages and emails about the news were sent out. And now you know too.

If you read this, you are invited. We seem to be aiming for May of next year. When the official date comes, you will know. And you will get to see Whit marry people, in person!

So I'm going to start planning a wedding, you should start planning your next visit to California.

April 19th at 1:16am

its time for a wedding

Tomorrow there is a wedding. People will be sharing memories of the participants before they ever met, and how much they have changed since. There will be children undoubtably making noises at inappropriate times. Whit will be drinking. So will I. And I will be playing DJ.

I need to come up with a song for the money dance. It should be long and slow, to achieve maximum currency collection. Stairway to heaven maybe?

Anyways. I have a couple nights of slinging drinks and setting up trays of food, then I am flying to Florida. I'm going to spend almost a week watching a hundred bands and drinking a million beers. And hopefully I'll see the Atlantic for the first time in my life.


When I get back I'll tell you where I'm moving.