Blue Riff
I went to jazz night again. I like it a lot. And I had company this time; the only person I can invite to things like this. The only person who actually listens. It was a struggle. Because I kept wondering if I should have done this by myself; if I need more alone activities. But I figured I'm going away for a few days, so why not. And I desperately want to believe that my emotions are at least a little bit under control. Enough that we can spend time together without me freaking out.
I realized I don't think I'm quite there yet. Because I really really wanted him. I wanted to go somewhere private and put on a record and do something else. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself. I was. I just wanted more. Always more. It's hard sitting still with these thoughts when that person is sitting right next to you. It takes an awful lot of concentration. Or distraction. So I listened to the riffs bounce around the room and let my feet bounce with the beat, but not too much because I don't want to look like an idiot. But my mind is still wandering, meandering around where it should not. And I wonder, am I even attractive to him anymore? Does he even think of me in that way? And I'm thinking the answer must be no because this all seems so far from anything in his mind. Not that I can ever tell what's in there anyway. And I start to feel like dead weight. Dead weight that was jettisoned when he thought the ship was sinking. So I concentrate even harder on the bass solo, and the sharp cracks from the drummer. And then it's all over.
We pause outside. Or rather he pauses. I look and realize and wonder again if I should have come by myself. Because I can see pain in his eyes and it hurts me too. The dark inside me wonders if he came up here in part to torture himself. Because it sounds like something I would do, not him. And it also hurts because I feel like less again. And because he could have talked about it or something but refused. And it made me sad to see him so. I thought he was in recovery. No. And we walked together in the cold. And then he unceremoniously walked away. Without pause. My solo takes over.
I realized I don't think I'm quite there yet. Because I really really wanted him. I wanted to go somewhere private and put on a record and do something else. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself. I was. I just wanted more. Always more. It's hard sitting still with these thoughts when that person is sitting right next to you. It takes an awful lot of concentration. Or distraction. So I listened to the riffs bounce around the room and let my feet bounce with the beat, but not too much because I don't want to look like an idiot. But my mind is still wandering, meandering around where it should not. And I wonder, am I even attractive to him anymore? Does he even think of me in that way? And I'm thinking the answer must be no because this all seems so far from anything in his mind. Not that I can ever tell what's in there anyway. And I start to feel like dead weight. Dead weight that was jettisoned when he thought the ship was sinking. So I concentrate even harder on the bass solo, and the sharp cracks from the drummer. And then it's all over.
We pause outside. Or rather he pauses. I look and realize and wonder again if I should have come by myself. Because I can see pain in his eyes and it hurts me too. The dark inside me wonders if he came up here in part to torture himself. Because it sounds like something I would do, not him. And it also hurts because I feel like less again. And because he could have talked about it or something but refused. And it made me sad to see him so. I thought he was in recovery. No. And we walked together in the cold. And then he unceremoniously walked away. Without pause. My solo takes over.
posted by Ocean | 12:22 AM
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