T (on phone): Dude, I don't have the energy to move. I only want to sleep.
Airek: Lemme guess...You're listening to the cure...?
T: Nope. Joni Mitchell. Otherwise I'm just sad.


A week ago Airek and I go to 'our' bar. He says going out will do me some good. I hope he's right. We go to Liz Reed's quite a bit. Its almost like we're regulars. And the real regulars there know us as regular-lites. And we meet new people and buy them drinks and get into arguments and get kissed and get dissed and get invited to parties and grub with the owner and drink. We're regulars.

It was a regular night when I was enchanted by a gypsy. She was very cool and very drunk. Airek and I ventured to the bar across the street since Liz Reed's was dead at the time. At the entrance to the bar my senorita humps my leg, dances the naughty with me and gives me a huge hug where she lifts me 2 feet off the floor. Yeah! Airek laughs. And for once I laugh too; I'm having a kick ass time and I'm only at the door stop! We go to the bar and order our drinks then she whispers me away. See, its open mic nite and she wants me to sing a duet with her, but I don't know the words. We use several napkins to get the words down and I'm half ready to perform. "Just let me finish my beer," I say trying to build confidence. We don't make it to the stage; instead we sing to each other at the bar. We take to the dance floor where she shows me up. I'm two left feet going backwards and she's making fun of me. "Move to the rhythm." But its reggie and the beat is awkward. I dance staring at my feet. I never felt so useless on the dance-floor. We have a great time nonetheless and she makes sure I know she's having fun. I learn later that she was stood-up.

We leave together ending up at Liz Reed's. Its still quiet there so I grab us a booth. I want to know who she is, so we talk talk. And play play. At some point I'm comfortable enough to bear my soul. "I hate myself." "Noooo!" she says. "I haven't learned to appreciate myself for who I am. I'm worthless. I hate myself." Then she lectures me of the lessons of human kindness. She tells me that everyone needs companionship; everyone needs to know that they are loved. I listen. "You hate yourself because you're afraid to face your truths. You run from your strengths and hide in your fear. But I love you, though." She makes me feel like I'm 6 years old. And I listen and she carries me away. She re-lives old memories of being homeless and uncared for. And I listen to the pictures of wickedness. She shows me the rotting of mankind. And I listen as she tells me not to waste away. And we cry. "Look at you. You made me cry," she says. Cleverly I hide my tears; "You're a gem. This night you shine bright for me. Thank you." With that and nothing more I leave for home.

Pup (in e-mail): Track 5--Life for Rent--Dido. Don't let this become you, T.

"See you when you're 40" is the song I think. He burned a copy of it for me without the track listing. A few days after bar hopping I pop this disk into the car stereo and take a two hour drive. Then at home I obsess over Mitchell's Blue album. Any relation? Can't really say for sure except that, Pup, several of Joni's songs cover the same sentiment but with better prose. Thanks for the disk!

How not to rot away.... The resolution? Learn to love. Simple idea but difficult to master. I wouldn't know love if it hit me in the face, and this is my flaw.
--It seems to me that true love is too pure; it's unattainable.-- Fear speaks for my soul as it always has. So I give up the quest before I begin. --There is no such thing as true love because I haven't seen it therefore it can't exist......-- fear. fear. FEAR!

Last thing, I swear. Love is not something you can wield to your own wishes. Many may marry or share a night or whatever while never knowing true love. True love is unadulterated, unconditional and eternal. Blah. I'm sounding like Pup now, so I'll stop.