What can I do to help you, Bridget?
Leave me alone, please.
I can do just about anything but that, I'm afraid.
Leave me alone, please.
I can do just about anything but that, I'm afraid.
Tuesday, 30 April 2019
Monday, 29 April 2019
My anxiety is like breathing in a storm and holding it. I never know when it's going to come out in a rush, drowning everything around me, drowning out the good attempts to talk me out of it. I was always a hurricane, always spooling in from the water to wreak havoc on land, always making sure you stocked up on supplies and battened down the hatches because I was unpredictable, powerful, damaging.
I'm never anything less than a category five. Life is always a hyperventilating whoosh, a broken-off corner to shove a square peg into a round hole, messy storm of a girl and I'm sorry, is what I am. Over the years (decades, even) I grew so used to being helped, to being asked how I felt that now I just do it automatically. I let the wind blow. I let it rain. I let the power go out while the curtains flap against the open window and I tell you up front the storm is here. Not even coming, it's too late for that, it's here now and if you didn't already do something about it, it's simply too late now.
It's like that. Like I said, I'm sorry but it's a storm and it never truly passes, it just ebbs and wanes, it waits offshore. It hides behind clouds and it highlights the sun in order to blind you so that you can't see everything.
It's deadly and it's weak and it's often and it's devastating.
I already said I was sorry. I don't know if that matters. I should have said nothing and then we can pretend the skies are clear.
Sunday, 28 April 2019
Nothing spoiled.
We saw Avengers: Endgame this morning. Never in the history of my life as I remember it has there been such a push in this house to see a film before it got spoiled. Never have I cried like that during a Marvel movie. Never have I questioned the music choices so voraciously in my mind and also never have I seen classier, more appropriate credits as I did today with the actors' signatures across the screen with their superhero poses. Well done. Worth the two-week internet blackout and braving the crowds. We went out in public. With actual public. That doesn't happen much.
Just an FYI there is no end-credit scene.
******
Neamhchiontach. I'm not going to bring up your activities as of the end of this week but I would like to schedule a date, if I may.
Oh good. AKA He's not going to rage at me for touching PJ (or maybe that's being touched by PJ) but Caleb does want to isolate me from everyone else during the most holiest and reverent of times.
My birthday is a week away, after all.
What sort of date?
Dinner. A drive maybe. Maybe slow-dancing in the courtyard.
You going to cook?
Would you like me to? What would I make?
Your scallops and fettucini with lemon butter and a good dry wine.
I would be honored to make that for you. And what for dessert? Cake?
Of course.
What shall we dance to?
Mascagni's Intermezzo. Or something similar.
This sounds very formal, Neamhchiontach.
As you like it.
Do you like it, is the question?
I can wear my McQueen.
I would be delighted if you did. Sunday?
Friday.
You have plans Sunday?
That's a family day for everyone.
And Saturday?
Lochlan and Ben get that. If not Friday we can do the Monday after?
Friday is perfect. I can shop ahead. It is supposed to rain, however.
That's perfect. I love the gazebo when it's raining.
I do too. He smiles very big at me and I return it. For once it's without dread or hesitation. For once I'm looking forward to time with him.
Saturday, 27 April 2019
Amnesiac.
PJ and I are having our existential crises in tandem. In June his job description ends, as Henry won't need to be organized and packed off to school and honestly we have a chore list that is rotational and well-entrenched at this point.
What does a nanny do exactly once the kids have graduated from high school? Ruth was phased out of his care ages ago. He's the anchor for the entire Collective though and forever will be, a natural homebody, a constant, an oddly efficient nurturer and the most organized person I've ever met who manages to do it all in a laid-back, big picture way.
Case in point. Once everyone was off and having their quiet Friday evenings, the plants were watered and all the vehicles checked to make sure they were locked, empty, dome lights are off and gates are closed he put the dog out for a moment, baked a pizza and took both to bed with him to watch Rammstein videos. I opted to join him once I finished my own chores. Besides, it was the best Friday night plans I've heard suggested in recent weeks and I figured I'd stay for an hour or two.
Besides, second dinner. I only eat the crust with PJ. He only likes the pointy part up until the final third and crust. We make a good team.
I am soon stuffed and since I stopped moving I get sleepy. The last thing I remember is the woman in the newest video picking up her radio-baby to breastfeed it and I laughed and then I woke up and it was morning. The light was coming through filtered curtains and I could hear the birds.
PJ is awake but sleepy.
Noisy little sleeper. I keep forgetting. Also you take up so much space. I forgot how much.
You did.
He pulls me in close. Morning breath-beard kiss. I don't mind it. Then he turns me over and puts his hand over my face, pulling my shirt up. I put my hands up to pry his hand away but he's stronger and I can't get him to budge. His face is against my head. I push against him and he responds in kind and soon I am fighting to be more quiet and fighting to not die from overstimulation as he rocks against me. He turns me back over so I can breathe and cuddles me into his arms as he resumes his efforts, letting go, forgetting his weight on me, forgetting his gentleness with me. PJ isn't a fast-food kind of guy, he's an eight-course meal kind of guy in bed. He reaches down and cups me against him hard until I cry out.
There she goes, he tells himself, a badge of honour and then he's finishing too, the most beautiful sound coming from him as he clenches my limbs hard in his hands.
I bet that's a perk most nannies don't get.
I bet you'd be surprised at how many get that perk.
He laughs. You know, I can make breakfast too if you want to stay for a bit. Lunch. Snacks. Tea. Dinner again. Keeps you from getting in shit with Gage.
Oh, is that what this was? You're a decoy now to distract me from the real threat? He isn't like that.
Neither am I, Bridge, but that's not for lack of trying. He plants a hard kiss on my lower lip and then disappears to take a shower.
I lie there thinking about this and then I fall asleep again.
What does a nanny do exactly once the kids have graduated from high school? Ruth was phased out of his care ages ago. He's the anchor for the entire Collective though and forever will be, a natural homebody, a constant, an oddly efficient nurturer and the most organized person I've ever met who manages to do it all in a laid-back, big picture way.
Case in point. Once everyone was off and having their quiet Friday evenings, the plants were watered and all the vehicles checked to make sure they were locked, empty, dome lights are off and gates are closed he put the dog out for a moment, baked a pizza and took both to bed with him to watch Rammstein videos. I opted to join him once I finished my own chores. Besides, it was the best Friday night plans I've heard suggested in recent weeks and I figured I'd stay for an hour or two.
Besides, second dinner. I only eat the crust with PJ. He only likes the pointy part up until the final third and crust. We make a good team.
I am soon stuffed and since I stopped moving I get sleepy. The last thing I remember is the woman in the newest video picking up her radio-baby to breastfeed it and I laughed and then I woke up and it was morning. The light was coming through filtered curtains and I could hear the birds.
PJ is awake but sleepy.
Noisy little sleeper. I keep forgetting. Also you take up so much space. I forgot how much.
You did.
He pulls me in close. Morning breath-beard kiss. I don't mind it. Then he turns me over and puts his hand over my face, pulling my shirt up. I put my hands up to pry his hand away but he's stronger and I can't get him to budge. His face is against my head. I push against him and he responds in kind and soon I am fighting to be more quiet and fighting to not die from overstimulation as he rocks against me. He turns me back over so I can breathe and cuddles me into his arms as he resumes his efforts, letting go, forgetting his weight on me, forgetting his gentleness with me. PJ isn't a fast-food kind of guy, he's an eight-course meal kind of guy in bed. He reaches down and cups me against him hard until I cry out.
There she goes, he tells himself, a badge of honour and then he's finishing too, the most beautiful sound coming from him as he clenches my limbs hard in his hands.
I bet that's a perk most nannies don't get.
I bet you'd be surprised at how many get that perk.
He laughs. You know, I can make breakfast too if you want to stay for a bit. Lunch. Snacks. Tea. Dinner again. Keeps you from getting in shit with Gage.
Oh, is that what this was? You're a decoy now to distract me from the real threat? He isn't like that.
Neither am I, Bridge, but that's not for lack of trying. He plants a hard kiss on my lower lip and then disappears to take a shower.
I lie there thinking about this and then I fall asleep again.
Friday, 26 April 2019
Mood.
A year ago today I got my job. A shitty little barely-over minimum wage position with nasty (and a few kind) customers, a chef who yells all day long and very sore arms and legs. I have people constantly reaching out to try and touch my tattoos and I want to scream at them when they do that.
I managed to save $10667.06, all told. I have spent nothing. I don't know why that's important but it is to me. It's sitting in a low-yield account gathering a light coating of dust and I think about it when I'm ready to quit.
That's the irony. I went out into the world without the boys (who meddled furiously nonetheless) and thought I would show them. I took the humblest of jobs pouring coffee, serving pie slices, ringing up tickets and washing windows (when it's not busy), and every time I wanted to quit, they all said,
Give it a year.
Every time they wanted me to quit I said,
I'll quit when I'm ready.
And honestly?
I'm thinking about it.
I managed to save $10667.06, all told. I have spent nothing. I don't know why that's important but it is to me. It's sitting in a low-yield account gathering a light coating of dust and I think about it when I'm ready to quit.
That's the irony. I went out into the world without the boys (who meddled furiously nonetheless) and thought I would show them. I took the humblest of jobs pouring coffee, serving pie slices, ringing up tickets and washing windows (when it's not busy), and every time I wanted to quit, they all said,
Give it a year.
Every time they wanted me to quit I said,
I'll quit when I'm ready.
And honestly?
I'm thinking about it.
Thursday, 25 April 2019
Hangfire.
Lochlan. In my face. Holding my face. In the dark. In the night. Alone.
I taught you to be a thief and a liar and if I do say so myself, I'm rather proud of how you turned out. And it's not cheating, it's just unconventional by normie standards, like everything we do. You are an incredible wife and definitely not a hopeless case. Possible the most hopeful one, as it were, because you've been through unimaginable horror and yet you wake up every day smiling and you demand that everyone puts love and music above anyone else and I couldn't imagine my life without you.
Never has the darkness been so light. And warm. I burst into flames. My brain burns quickly, a fuse that leads to my heart, exploding into colors and lights. A one-off. A spectacle.
*Boom*
I would be a liar if I said it didn't bother me, though. There's always the tiny seed of doubt in my mind that another Jacob will come along and you'll forget we exist.
I never did.
He swept you away on a cloud and when it rained and you came back down to the ground there wasn't much left of you, Bridget. I was so scared.
You were off having your own drama.
I tried. I was miserable. I came back. We all came back for you.
Even the devil.
Yes. How did he respond to Gage's overtures?
He walked into the kitchen, looked at me with the worst expression ever, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind and left.
Lochlan laughs. Jesus Christ. Let's hope this is his final form. The one with self control.
My final form, you mean. With the same.
His eyes flooded when I said that and I wanted to take back my entire life.
I taught you to be a thief and a liar and if I do say so myself, I'm rather proud of how you turned out. And it's not cheating, it's just unconventional by normie standards, like everything we do. You are an incredible wife and definitely not a hopeless case. Possible the most hopeful one, as it were, because you've been through unimaginable horror and yet you wake up every day smiling and you demand that everyone puts love and music above anyone else and I couldn't imagine my life without you.
Never has the darkness been so light. And warm. I burst into flames. My brain burns quickly, a fuse that leads to my heart, exploding into colors and lights. A one-off. A spectacle.
*Boom*
I would be a liar if I said it didn't bother me, though. There's always the tiny seed of doubt in my mind that another Jacob will come along and you'll forget we exist.
I never did.
He swept you away on a cloud and when it rained and you came back down to the ground there wasn't much left of you, Bridget. I was so scared.
You were off having your own drama.
I tried. I was miserable. I came back. We all came back for you.
Even the devil.
Yes. How did he respond to Gage's overtures?
He walked into the kitchen, looked at me with the worst expression ever, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind and left.
Lochlan laughs. Jesus Christ. Let's hope this is his final form. The one with self control.
My final form, you mean. With the same.
His eyes flooded when I said that and I wanted to take back my entire life.
Wednesday, 24 April 2019
Tuesday, 23 April 2019
(It's a part two!)This little light of mine.
I took Gage's perfection and rubbed it until it glowed, shining in the moonlight like a new coppery penny.
The candlelight makes him look gorgeous. I never noticed before. If someone keeps their cards close then you can't read them, obviously, and he's got the best poker face of all, it seems.
He takes a sip of whiskey and then holds it out. For courage.
Why do we need courage?
Because I went from feeling like the big man to being afraid of you.
Why would you be afraid of me?
If I screw this up my landlady will kick me out. He laughs.
No she won't. She's kind and she understands this is hard. She's probably wondering if her tenant will still want to stay when he finds out what kind of person she is.
I doubt it. What do you see in the mirror, Bridget?
A thief, a liar and a cheat. A hopeless case. A horrible wife.
Your mirror must be aimed at someone else. That's not what I see.
I take the whiskey and drink the rest. Go ahead, I know you're going to start piling on the compliments now.
Naw. I told you this night is of no consequence. If you allow it, I hope it's wonderful and memorable. If you don't, I hope I didn't fuck up a friendship I treasure above everything.
It's not too late, Gage.
Having second thoughts?
Second? Hell, I'm up to ninth or tenth, here.
But you're still...here.
You're better looking than Schuyler.
He throws his head back and roars with laughter. If nothing else comes of this night then that is enough for me.
Is it?
Is this where I make my gentlemenly exit?
It is, I'm afraid.
He leans down and kisses my cheek. Another time.
Maybe.
This feels better than being the subject of your regret.
Don't think you aren't exactly that.
Love you, Bridget.
Love you too, Gage.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
Let's be normal and not weird, though.
Coming from you that's a horrible suggestion.
The candlelight makes him look gorgeous. I never noticed before. If someone keeps their cards close then you can't read them, obviously, and he's got the best poker face of all, it seems.
He takes a sip of whiskey and then holds it out. For courage.
Why do we need courage?
Because I went from feeling like the big man to being afraid of you.
Why would you be afraid of me?
If I screw this up my landlady will kick me out. He laughs.
No she won't. She's kind and she understands this is hard. She's probably wondering if her tenant will still want to stay when he finds out what kind of person she is.
I doubt it. What do you see in the mirror, Bridget?
A thief, a liar and a cheat. A hopeless case. A horrible wife.
Your mirror must be aimed at someone else. That's not what I see.
I take the whiskey and drink the rest. Go ahead, I know you're going to start piling on the compliments now.
Naw. I told you this night is of no consequence. If you allow it, I hope it's wonderful and memorable. If you don't, I hope I didn't fuck up a friendship I treasure above everything.
It's not too late, Gage.
Having second thoughts?
Second? Hell, I'm up to ninth or tenth, here.
But you're still...here.
You're better looking than Schuyler.
He throws his head back and roars with laughter. If nothing else comes of this night then that is enough for me.
Is it?
Is this where I make my gentlemenly exit?
It is, I'm afraid.
He leans down and kisses my cheek. Another time.
Maybe.
This feels better than being the subject of your regret.
Don't think you aren't exactly that.
Love you, Bridget.
Love you too, Gage.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
Let's be normal and not weird, though.
Coming from you that's a horrible suggestion.
Monday, 22 April 2019
It seemed like such a regular Monday at first.
And just like that, I snapped my fingers in the rain and he followed me home. Up the porch steps with our shopping bags and into the front hall, up the stairs where we dumped half the bags on my bed and then went down the hall and around the corner and down another hall to deposit his bags in his room.
And then Gage shut the door and told me he'd been thinking.
About what? I ask, thinking it's just a regular, everyday conversation.
About you.
What about me?
There's a club...and I might want to be a part of it.
What club? I ask as he pulls me in close, leaning back against his desk, bringing me with him. Never been this close. Never noticed how good he smells. Kind of like Schuyler but less disapproving, less perfect. Maybe less gay. Though I don't know. I don't get into his business. He comes and goes on the wind. He hasn't gone anywhere in a quite a while now.
The one where I get to show my appreciation for what you've done for me over the years.
Oh. That club sends me flowers. Sometimes helps out with extra chores. You know. I reach up and smooth his hair from his forehead. Up close he has fine laugh lines around his eyes and perfect teeth framed with a perfect smile. I think you mean the other club.
What club is that?
The one where you say you want me and maybe it all works out. I hold my breath.
Give me some reasons why it wouldn't work out? But he's pulled me all the way in now and is whispering this against my ear while he unbuttons my shirt. While he plays with my earrings. While he smiles that stupid Schuyler/Gage smile that has devastated several of us already in ways we didn't think were possible. I've never seen this smile from him before.
I get attached very easily.
That's a bad thing? Oh my God. I can't concentrate with his warm hands on me.
Always. You become something special and then I get upset if you leave again.
Don't get attached, Bridget. He bends his head down and kisses my bottom lip. His lips are burning hot. Kind of like my cheeks right now.
I take a step back and meet his eyes. That's what I do. I don't think I'd go down this road if I were you. You can't just do this and bail again. You know what I'm like. You know it hurts when they leave. If it hurts when you leave then I can't do this.
There's nothing here to commit to, Bridget. There's no room for me in your nights. No strings, no expectation. Just a one-time thing.
I don't work that way.
Sure you do.
With who?
He thinks for a minute and suggests names. I shake my head. There are always strings. Always. There's always the iceberg that is my heart. The one you think you see all of. The one you think you can hold until you go to tuck your hands underneath it to lift it up and realize it's bigger than anything you've ever seen and you can't lift it. You can't even see all of it. If I let it see you and it gets a good enough look you're doomed, pinned to me forever. There is no one-time. There is no casual. There is you, and there is me and your life is effectively ruined. There is an army now and they are stuck with me.
You need to think about this.
I thought I already had, Bridge.
Not hard enough.
No one ever said that about me. We've been under the same roof for a decade now. It's not too late to explore each other.
And you're one of the few who isn't wrecked. I can't take that perfection from you.
Maybe you won't. I'm a grown man, Bridget.
I didn't think you were a gambler.
Well then maybe you should get to know me better.
Sunday, 21 April 2019
Tradition.
The bunny came around this morning, in a tux and rollerskates.
Down the driveway, through the kitchen and out the patio, a funny dance-hop-roll across the grass and away only to return a little while later with the big basket of chocolate eggs he forgot the first time around, I guess. He took his sweet time handing them out and since we were soon going to be late for church. We finally shooed him out the front door and he tried to slide down the railing sidesaddle only to loose his balance and go ass over teakettle into the grass. Chocolate eggs flew for yards all over the place and the giant fuzzy bunny head came off.
Dalton, today.
We all had a good laugh and finished getting ready. He remained in the tux, and when questioned by Sam at the church steps he just said he thought it was important to dress up for this day, that it's the holiest.
Sam appreciated that, and I pressed an egg into his hands. He looked at me with wide eyes and said oh, no, not that again (as last year we had hatching eggs that begat beautiful baby chicks and it was warmmmmmmm in the church for the first and last time ever) and I kissed him on the cheek and told him it was chocolate and he actually said, and I quote,
Hallelujah!
Saturday, 20 April 2019
A world lit only by fire.
Got the new PSTHMN EP (the remixed Posthuman album by Justin Broaderick and friends, making up Harm's Way.) It's delicious. Very Godflesh without too many surprises so I love it.
It's a beautiful day for crushing, industrial noise with a chugging undercurrent that makes you feel sick to your stomach. The sun is out, PJ is headbanging and we're almost caught up on laundry.
It's Saturday so once that is done I am free to paint.
Paiiiiiint.
Lochlan is working. Ben? Working. Sam is definitely working. PJ works his ass off all the time except when he's not and everyone else seems to be sleeping in. Missing the sun. Missing this noise. Missing me being perfectly regular (we don't say 'normal' in this house; that's a dirty word). Missing coming to pick up their laundry piles before PJ wraps the clean clothes around various blunt objects and throws them overhand into their rooms at sleeping forms. It usually goes over well and is one of my favorite parts of the week, frankly, especially when the objects of choice are big heavy things like downhill ski boots and table lamps.
My birthday is only two weeks away and I'm sure the boys will soon shrug off their laundry injuries and ask me what I want for it.
I'm going to say more days like this.
Friday, 19 April 2019
Schweet.
We WON!!!! Now on to Sunday's nailbiter of a game 6. If we win that? On to round two.
Now go read about Notre Dame's bees. So happy they survived by gorging on honey. Now I know why I don't burn.
Now go read about Notre Dame's bees. So happy they survived by gorging on honey. Now I know why I don't burn.
The measurement of my worth, in pop music knowledge.
Because as long as I don't know, I feel as if I'm still me.
Caleb once again did that thing, though much less malevolently, these days. I think he is mellowing, albeit in that way a cup of coffee cools on the counter into a softer version of itself with no kick to finish off the taste.
It's not too late to go to Indio for the weekend. (I swear he is the biggest hipster wannabe, for a mid-fifties lawyer kind of guy. What is it about lawyers and Coachella?) Why don't you look at the lineup and let me know? We'd be there by early afternoon.
So I look. You know, for 'fun'.
He comes back around twenty minutes later. My coffee is almost cold, my mood has set me back a hundred years. Who are these people? It's as if music comes in colors, and this is definitely all milky, chipped pastels.
See anyone you'd like to hear?
I don't recognize any of it, I frown. Is this a test? Like every couple of years we confirm that 'no, Bridget still doesn't know a band. As you were, everyone. Peace reigns in the kingdom', that kind of thing?
He laughs. No. I just offered a break. A little getaway. People do that sort of thing, Bridget.
Rich people do that sort of thing. Instagram people.
What's the matter?
I'm not an instagram people.
No, you definitely are not.
I tried to be but it isn't me.
And you are you.
That's right. Sorry about that.
Wouldn't have it any other way.
Then go get your game face on. Hockey's at four.
Oh, that's early.
It's the playoffs, Diabhal!
This is why I love you, Bridget. Your passions are few but a little unique.
A lot.
That's what I said.
Bring chips. But not ketchup ones. Oh, and can you get the Amon Amarth tickets when they go on sale? There's a band I know.
Exactly.
Caleb once again did that thing, though much less malevolently, these days. I think he is mellowing, albeit in that way a cup of coffee cools on the counter into a softer version of itself with no kick to finish off the taste.
It's not too late to go to Indio for the weekend. (I swear he is the biggest hipster wannabe, for a mid-fifties lawyer kind of guy. What is it about lawyers and Coachella?) Why don't you look at the lineup and let me know? We'd be there by early afternoon.
So I look. You know, for 'fun'.
He comes back around twenty minutes later. My coffee is almost cold, my mood has set me back a hundred years. Who are these people? It's as if music comes in colors, and this is definitely all milky, chipped pastels.
See anyone you'd like to hear?
I don't recognize any of it, I frown. Is this a test? Like every couple of years we confirm that 'no, Bridget still doesn't know a band. As you were, everyone. Peace reigns in the kingdom', that kind of thing?
He laughs. No. I just offered a break. A little getaway. People do that sort of thing, Bridget.
Rich people do that sort of thing. Instagram people.
What's the matter?
I'm not an instagram people.
No, you definitely are not.
I tried to be but it isn't me.
And you are you.
That's right. Sorry about that.
Wouldn't have it any other way.
Then go get your game face on. Hockey's at four.
Oh, that's early.
It's the playoffs, Diabhal!
This is why I love you, Bridget. Your passions are few but a little unique.
A lot.
That's what I said.
Bring chips. But not ketchup ones. Oh, and can you get the Amon Amarth tickets when they go on sale? There's a band I know.
Exactly.
Thursday, 18 April 2019
A wolf in white and blue.
Game five with me, Bridget?
Yes. I smile at Joel, a peace offering because I was a little dick last time he came over, and because he's spending his days mea culpa-ing all over the place and I need to let him and not resist, instead of fighting him to be like everyone else.
I'll bring pizza.
And wings. Lots of them. We'll host a party.
He smiles gamely (pun intended) and rallies handsomely, as we won't be alone. We never actually are, but this has nothing to do with him. I'm forcing everyone in the house to watch the Leafs.
For luck.
Because if my team can win the next two games they're still in the playoffs and we love a winning Leafs team. Or, you know, they could cave under pressure, throw the whole mess and start summer vacation early.
They'd better not. Last time they won the cup Lochlan was in diapers, and I didn't exist. I just want them to win one in my lifetime. That's all. And I hope it's this year because I take enough shit for being a fan of the wrong team in a city that loves the Canucks, a team that...has never won the cup, nor did they even grace the playoff schedule this season.
Suck it, Vancouver. No, seriously.
Yes. I smile at Joel, a peace offering because I was a little dick last time he came over, and because he's spending his days mea culpa-ing all over the place and I need to let him and not resist, instead of fighting him to be like everyone else.
I'll bring pizza.
And wings. Lots of them. We'll host a party.
He smiles gamely (pun intended) and rallies handsomely, as we won't be alone. We never actually are, but this has nothing to do with him. I'm forcing everyone in the house to watch the Leafs.
For luck.
Because if my team can win the next two games they're still in the playoffs and we love a winning Leafs team. Or, you know, they could cave under pressure, throw the whole mess and start summer vacation early.
They'd better not. Last time they won the cup Lochlan was in diapers, and I didn't exist. I just want them to win one in my lifetime. That's all. And I hope it's this year because I take enough shit for being a fan of the wrong team in a city that loves the Canucks, a team that...has never won the cup, nor did they even grace the playoff schedule this season.
Suck it, Vancouver. No, seriously.
Wednesday, 17 April 2019
Guess I'm taking a paperback to read at break today.
PJ already knew about Amon Amarth and said nothing because he's already planning a date for the show.
I thought about this for a moment and then asked him, what if you're not still dating whoever then?
I'll take Ben. If he's out of the doghouse by then. If not I'll take you and you can circle pit with me in GA.
I'm not doing that.
Okay, we'll get lower bowl, just in case. Lightweight.
He laughs warmly but he's still a little (a lot, okay, a lot) mad.
Last night when I got home, I went over to Ben who was in the driveway under the awning talking to Sam and he asked how I was. I said hot and tired.
He asked if I knew what was really invigorating and I shook my head. Too tired to answer.
So he picked me up and ran for the edge of the yard and threw me over like I weighed nothing save for the almighty heft of my screams.
I forgot my phone was in the pocket of my work dress.
My sturdy black work shoes did not fall off. Which means they were very heavy.
And Sam followed me in because I was very tired and therefore could hardly walk let alone swim all the way around the point.
The phone didn't survive two metres of seawater for fifteen minutes.
The shoes, well, they're at the bottom of the sea and now today I have to wear my old adidas and hope no one sees them. Maybe I can paint the stripes black with a sharpie? Either way I'm going to break my neck.
And Ben is in the doghouse. Not because my phone and my shoes got ruined but because the water was two degrees.
Two.
It was so cold it hurt.
As usual, he has no regrets. And to clarify, I'm not mad at him. It felt really good for a minute there, like all things that will kill me, but everyone else was completely less than impressed.
I thought about this for a moment and then asked him, what if you're not still dating whoever then?
I'll take Ben. If he's out of the doghouse by then. If not I'll take you and you can circle pit with me in GA.
I'm not doing that.
Okay, we'll get lower bowl, just in case. Lightweight.
He laughs warmly but he's still a little (a lot, okay, a lot) mad.
Last night when I got home, I went over to Ben who was in the driveway under the awning talking to Sam and he asked how I was. I said hot and tired.
He asked if I knew what was really invigorating and I shook my head. Too tired to answer.
So he picked me up and ran for the edge of the yard and threw me over like I weighed nothing save for the almighty heft of my screams.
I forgot my phone was in the pocket of my work dress.
My sturdy black work shoes did not fall off. Which means they were very heavy.
And Sam followed me in because I was very tired and therefore could hardly walk let alone swim all the way around the point.
The phone didn't survive two metres of seawater for fifteen minutes.
The shoes, well, they're at the bottom of the sea and now today I have to wear my old adidas and hope no one sees them. Maybe I can paint the stripes black with a sharpie? Either way I'm going to break my neck.
And Ben is in the doghouse. Not because my phone and my shoes got ruined but because the water was two degrees.
Two.
It was so cold it hurt.
As usual, he has no regrets. And to clarify, I'm not mad at him. It felt really good for a minute there, like all things that will kill me, but everyone else was completely less than impressed.
Monday, 15 April 2019
Up all night.
It's definitely Monday.
Like it's holy-shit levels of Monday and Notre Dame is burning. Poor Paris.
We stayed up late for Game of Thrones. I couldn't remember any of the politics and forgot my manners and yelled out THEON when Alfie Allen came onscreen. He's my favorite out of whoever they are.
Everyone else is DRAGONS! I don't actually like the dragons, or the story or any of the people. But it's at least somewhat interesting. I like the scale. I like medieval things.
I'm tired though.
I had a hard time cashing out my tables today, in any case. Couldn't focus. Still can't. Had a bunch of messages from the boys pointing out my blog typos, my lack of laundry finished, my inability to make myself a decent lunch, instead taking four-day-old pizza for my break and then not being able to eat it. The baker gave me a muffin that wasn't up to snuff and I ate some of that instead.
I got caught up on paperwork at work too (I do some payroll at work now too). I gave Ruthie a lot of encouragement as she started a new job this week, having finished her second year of university. I've now saved $10227 in my 'work' bank account and I've pushed back my promise to quit to when Henry graduates.
Maybe.
I saw a few new job postings I might apply for but I sort of like the diner. It's a little retro and they're fine with my hours, plus if I really don't want to do something in the course of a day I don't have to.
Maybe.
We finished watching Afterlife on Netflix. It was good. I sobbed like a child at the end and I still don't know why. Life is beautiful and ugly and ridiculous and amazing. I hate my job but I don't. I hate people but I don't, too. It is ridiculous and amazing, this life.
I just found out Amon Amarth is coming to Vancouver this fall. I can't wait to tell PJ and watch him shriek with excitement.
Like it's holy-shit levels of Monday and Notre Dame is burning. Poor Paris.
We stayed up late for Game of Thrones. I couldn't remember any of the politics and forgot my manners and yelled out THEON when Alfie Allen came onscreen. He's my favorite out of whoever they are.
Everyone else is DRAGONS! I don't actually like the dragons, or the story or any of the people. But it's at least somewhat interesting. I like the scale. I like medieval things.
I'm tired though.
I had a hard time cashing out my tables today, in any case. Couldn't focus. Still can't. Had a bunch of messages from the boys pointing out my blog typos, my lack of laundry finished, my inability to make myself a decent lunch, instead taking four-day-old pizza for my break and then not being able to eat it. The baker gave me a muffin that wasn't up to snuff and I ate some of that instead.
I got caught up on paperwork at work too (I do some payroll at work now too). I gave Ruthie a lot of encouragement as she started a new job this week, having finished her second year of university. I've now saved $10227 in my 'work' bank account and I've pushed back my promise to quit to when Henry graduates.
Maybe.
I saw a few new job postings I might apply for but I sort of like the diner. It's a little retro and they're fine with my hours, plus if I really don't want to do something in the course of a day I don't have to.
Maybe.
We finished watching Afterlife on Netflix. It was good. I sobbed like a child at the end and I still don't know why. Life is beautiful and ugly and ridiculous and amazing. I hate my job but I don't. I hate people but I don't, too. It is ridiculous and amazing, this life.
I just found out Amon Amarth is coming to Vancouver this fall. I can't wait to tell PJ and watch him shriek with excitement.
Sunday, 14 April 2019
Well, that was a whole heaping stack of AWESOME.
With many firsts.
No bag check, no pocket check, no pat-down, no capless bottles (fuck you, Queen Elizabeth Theatre for that HUGE discrimination between metal shows and every other show). Had to embrace a total stranger on request. Multiple bubble cannons. Confetti typhoon. A toilet paper/paper towel fight. The members of one band defacing the stage set of another band, and two other bands coming onstage to take over the song of a band just finishing up. Multiple times, no less.
(Also at least ninety percent of the crowd were Youth Leadership from just about every church in the PNW. So wholesome.)
Pretty sure Ben was the only one wearing a metal hoodie.
Pretty sure all of the over-six-feet tall youth pastors were standing in front of me.
So, typical Switchfoot show.
Tyson Motsenbocker opened the show with a very open, honest and beautiful set. He is self-effacing and engaging and had the audience laughing along as he played and sang for us. I would go see him again just for his banter, truth be told. And his talent. Can't remember a song he sang but he was so nice and wonderful to listen to. I'm going to look him up anyway because sometimes artists sneak right in and grow on me and he was very easy to listen to.
Colony House was...uh...TWICE as heavy live as on their latest album. I didn't expect that. They were freaking amazing. Far and away more than I expected and the drummer stole everyone's hearts. They sounded really good and the only issue I had is their bass was so much louder than everything else I could feel it in my chest and it hurt.
Switchfoot. What can I say? It was the sixth time I saw them and I was a little hesitant because the last tour they were so slick and polished it was scary.
The first time I saw them was a dozen years ago at a smoky little club that housed less than three hundred fans. The fifth time was here, same venue but they were wildly detached. Must have been an off night two years ago because they were back in force tonight. Holy cow. Jon roamed the audience constantly. They jumped all over the stage. Tim got not one but two bass intros. Chad...crowd-surfed (possible the first time ever.) We all cried as they celebrated Jerome being cancer-free. There was pranking and punking throughout the night as the three bands made good use of celebrating the last night of this tour and the audience, by the end, was one big happy family.
They played everything they could fit in and more.
I don't know why I tell you this. You might not be a fan, and if you aren't already then I am sad for you because you're missing out. They're something completely different and I can't even articulate why. Somehow they managed to make beautiful, catchy songs that hold an undercurrent of poignancy. They unabashedly ask the biggest questions ever with an openness and a grace that speaks louder than any concert they could put on, and they are incredibly warm, generous men besides. I've met them many times and they don't change.
It was a good show.
No bag check, no pocket check, no pat-down, no capless bottles (fuck you, Queen Elizabeth Theatre for that HUGE discrimination between metal shows and every other show). Had to embrace a total stranger on request. Multiple bubble cannons. Confetti typhoon. A toilet paper/paper towel fight. The members of one band defacing the stage set of another band, and two other bands coming onstage to take over the song of a band just finishing up. Multiple times, no less.
(Also at least ninety percent of the crowd were Youth Leadership from just about every church in the PNW. So wholesome.)
Pretty sure Ben was the only one wearing a metal hoodie.
Pretty sure all of the over-six-feet tall youth pastors were standing in front of me.
So, typical Switchfoot show.
Tyson Motsenbocker opened the show with a very open, honest and beautiful set. He is self-effacing and engaging and had the audience laughing along as he played and sang for us. I would go see him again just for his banter, truth be told. And his talent. Can't remember a song he sang but he was so nice and wonderful to listen to. I'm going to look him up anyway because sometimes artists sneak right in and grow on me and he was very easy to listen to.
Colony House was...uh...TWICE as heavy live as on their latest album. I didn't expect that. They were freaking amazing. Far and away more than I expected and the drummer stole everyone's hearts. They sounded really good and the only issue I had is their bass was so much louder than everything else I could feel it in my chest and it hurt.
Switchfoot. What can I say? It was the sixth time I saw them and I was a little hesitant because the last tour they were so slick and polished it was scary.
The first time I saw them was a dozen years ago at a smoky little club that housed less than three hundred fans. The fifth time was here, same venue but they were wildly detached. Must have been an off night two years ago because they were back in force tonight. Holy cow. Jon roamed the audience constantly. They jumped all over the stage. Tim got not one but two bass intros. Chad...crowd-surfed (possible the first time ever.) We all cried as they celebrated Jerome being cancer-free. There was pranking and punking throughout the night as the three bands made good use of celebrating the last night of this tour and the audience, by the end, was one big happy family.
They played everything they could fit in and more.
I don't know why I tell you this. You might not be a fan, and if you aren't already then I am sad for you because you're missing out. They're something completely different and I can't even articulate why. Somehow they managed to make beautiful, catchy songs that hold an undercurrent of poignancy. They unabashedly ask the biggest questions ever with an openness and a grace that speaks louder than any concert they could put on, and they are incredibly warm, generous men besides. I've met them many times and they don't change.
It was a good show.
Saturday, 13 April 2019
Rain for the fires.
And just like that in the rain last evening Caleb took his beloved Rag and Bone thermal shirt and retreated to his own quarters, and we were left with each other, a lot of fairy lights and some sort of quiet incredulity that he didn't fight to stay or make it something else, or cause any problems or even invoke his famous violence.
Perfect.
I love him more when he's like this, when he answers questions thoughtfully and without smiling, when he takes a breath before acting and when he's nice.
I slept so hard. Eight hours. A good solid night. I woke up in Lochlan's face but managed to get out from underneath his arms with the barest of acknowledgements as he sleeps on. I wonder if there's any of the good coffee left. I wonder if Ben crashed on the couch in his studio or if he is still awake and unaware of the time. I wonder if Sam is lonely. I wonder a lot of things this morning but at least I'm not wondering why I'm so tired today and I'm grateful for that.
Half an hour later I am dressed with wet hair and I head downstairs with a fresh cup of coffee for Ben. He is not awake so I leave it on the desk and just as I'm going back out he speaks.
I came up last night.
After ten?
Before.
He left at ten. I'm sorry.
It's fine. Thank you for the coffee. I'm coming up.
You finished?
No, I want to have breakfast with my girl.
Perfect.
I love him more when he's like this, when he answers questions thoughtfully and without smiling, when he takes a breath before acting and when he's nice.
I slept so hard. Eight hours. A good solid night. I woke up in Lochlan's face but managed to get out from underneath his arms with the barest of acknowledgements as he sleeps on. I wonder if there's any of the good coffee left. I wonder if Ben crashed on the couch in his studio or if he is still awake and unaware of the time. I wonder if Sam is lonely. I wonder a lot of things this morning but at least I'm not wondering why I'm so tired today and I'm grateful for that.
Half an hour later I am dressed with wet hair and I head downstairs with a fresh cup of coffee for Ben. He is not awake so I leave it on the desk and just as I'm going back out he speaks.
I came up last night.
After ten?
Before.
He left at ten. I'm sorry.
It's fine. Thank you for the coffee. I'm coming up.
You finished?
No, I want to have breakfast with my girl.
Friday, 12 April 2019
Rag and bone.
It's foggy this morning. Chilly and dim. Caleb has lit a fire and dressed me in his thermal waffleknit t-shirt. He's brought up black coffee and chocolate croissants and we're having breakfast in bed, a weekend on a Friday. I am sleepy but today nothing hurts. I'll call it even, bigger because the odds are small.
I tried to give him grace and in turn he offered himself up for sacrifice. And I still sit here in surprise that it worked, that he actually got up, went downstairs and made breakfast instead of picking up a phone and having a stranger do it while he took all the credit and suddenly instead of making an effort to own me, he's making one to take care of me, one that doesn't involve wielding his money as a weapon or his wealth as a crutch. He's trying out life on his own two feet finally, a little humility, a lot of slow moves.
Here. He takes my cup and puts it on the table and returns to roll up the cuffs on his shirt. It's huge.
Beautiful, he breathes. Slow.
Slow.
Slow.
Thanks, mate. Lochlan reaches over me and takes the croissant off Caleb's plate, eating it in two bites. I was hoping you'd notice.
I tried to give him grace and in turn he offered himself up for sacrifice. And I still sit here in surprise that it worked, that he actually got up, went downstairs and made breakfast instead of picking up a phone and having a stranger do it while he took all the credit and suddenly instead of making an effort to own me, he's making one to take care of me, one that doesn't involve wielding his money as a weapon or his wealth as a crutch. He's trying out life on his own two feet finally, a little humility, a lot of slow moves.
Here. He takes my cup and puts it on the table and returns to roll up the cuffs on his shirt. It's huge.
Beautiful, he breathes. Slow.
Slow.
Slow.
Thanks, mate. Lochlan reaches over me and takes the croissant off Caleb's plate, eating it in two bites. I was hoping you'd notice.
Thursday, 11 April 2019
Check my brain (a quickie City and Colour + Alice in Chains review, if you will).
Okay, so If I Should Go Before You had me crying far earlier than I expected, and yes, in person Dallas Green sings like an angel. An unearthly, tattooed, humble fucking ANGEL.
I didn't know what to expect from the genre-bending pairing of he and AIC, but it worked. I was a little awed and I'm not often awed and even Ben turned to me with wide eyes at one point and I knew he was equally overwhelmed. Because holy. It was a rare religious experience for a group of seriously seasoned live music lovers.
It was so good.
Alice in Chains was also good. Tighter and more formal than last time but also having a blast. My ears are still ringing. They smiled so huge the whole time it was new and wonderful. They also played Heaven Beside You so I was content as fuck, though there were at least three songs I didn't know well and was disappointed in myself for. This was a show for the boys though. Mine is on Saturday when Switchfoot returns.
And now I need sleep because four hours is not enough.
I didn't know what to expect from the genre-bending pairing of he and AIC, but it worked. I was a little awed and I'm not often awed and even Ben turned to me with wide eyes at one point and I knew he was equally overwhelmed. Because holy. It was a rare religious experience for a group of seriously seasoned live music lovers.
It was so good.
Alice in Chains was also good. Tighter and more formal than last time but also having a blast. My ears are still ringing. They smiled so huge the whole time it was new and wonderful. They also played Heaven Beside You so I was content as fuck, though there were at least three songs I didn't know well and was disappointed in myself for. This was a show for the boys though. Mine is on Saturday when Switchfoot returns.
And now I need sleep because four hours is not enough.
Wednesday, 10 April 2019
A shift in group dynamics.
Ready? Caleb is in the doorway in a tight tshirt and jeans. Kill me.
Almost. Wait. You going?
I want to see City and Colour, yes.
Who's ticket did you steal?
Dalton offered me his. He's seen both acts and is tired.
Ah.
Excited?
Very! But more tired. Weeknight shows are for the young birds.
You're still a young bird.
I laugh. I'm so not still young, but yes, I'm ready. Let's go!
Almost. Wait. You going?
I want to see City and Colour, yes.
Who's ticket did you steal?
Dalton offered me his. He's seen both acts and is tired.
Ah.
Excited?
Very! But more tired. Weeknight shows are for the young birds.
You're still a young bird.
I laugh. I'm so not still young, but yes, I'm ready. Let's go!
Tuesday, 9 April 2019
Angels say they can make you suffer.
Oh my God.
So Alice in Chains is playing here tomorrow night. Of course we have tickets. Of course. Wouldn't miss them (please play Fly).
Today, after teasing fans for a week straight they reveal that City and Colour is the opener.
Everyone is like huh? Or fuck yeah, Alexis On Fire!
And I'm like Dallas Green? The voice of my dreams?
His song, The Grace from Daniel Victor's Neverending White Lights: Act 1: Goodbye Friends of the Heavenly Bodies is still one of the most beautiful, and most forlorn things I have ever heard.
To this day.
(For credibility, I did a quick search. Here's a mention from nine years ago. If I had time I could dig further.)
So Alice in Chains is playing here tomorrow night. Of course we have tickets. Of course. Wouldn't miss them (please play Fly).
Today, after teasing fans for a week straight they reveal that City and Colour is the opener.
Everyone is like huh? Or fuck yeah, Alexis On Fire!
And I'm like Dallas Green? The voice of my dreams?
His song, The Grace from Daniel Victor's Neverending White Lights: Act 1: Goodbye Friends of the Heavenly Bodies is still one of the most beautiful, and most forlorn things I have ever heard.
To this day.
(For credibility, I did a quick search. Here's a mention from nine years ago. If I had time I could dig further.)
Monday, 8 April 2019
Lawyers + chefs.
I returned to work today. Maybe I shouldn't have as I felt paper-thin, close to tears, shaky and not at all up to any of the bullshit I put up with throughout a regular shift.
I got yelled at. A lot. All day long, seemingly and through no fault of my own. I couldn't finish anything before being told to do something else. I couldn't get out of my own way. I went outside on my break and screamed into the void and then ate my sandwich and texted with Ruth, Henry and Ben and then I went back in for more punishment. The yelling continued, the stupid customers continued and I wondered why the hell I need to prove this in particular?
I looked at the clock, thinking it was ten minutes to two but it was ten to three. And at three, I ran.
I was so happy to be home again I forgot about work, forgot about just about all of it save for the ache in my shoulders and my legs.
I got a big hug from PJ, one from Duncan and one from Mark too, who is still here working on some tattoos for some folks, me included.
I got a really long hug from Lochlan who told me to quit. And I laughed because one crappy first day back after a micro-breakdown does not mean the end of this. Especially seeing as how I'm a little over two weeks from my first year anniversary of having a job.
And he laughed too, because he knows I'm so stubborn. Oh so stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for my own good.
Caleb came home later but I got a quick hug as he said he had a business call to attend to, that he was finishing tax season. I am suitably impressed, as I refused again to touch his taxes. He forges ahead though, and is getting it done. We'll talk when I'm done, he threatens. They make you cry, that's it. This charade is finished.
It's a part-time job! Not a charade! I tell his back as he heads upstairs to his study.
In your case it's the same thing! He calls back down. Not going to wait until it's a legal issue. We can nip it before then.
Don't you dare send threatening letters to my boss.
Those, my dear, are what make the world go around.
I got yelled at. A lot. All day long, seemingly and through no fault of my own. I couldn't finish anything before being told to do something else. I couldn't get out of my own way. I went outside on my break and screamed into the void and then ate my sandwich and texted with Ruth, Henry and Ben and then I went back in for more punishment. The yelling continued, the stupid customers continued and I wondered why the hell I need to prove this in particular?
I looked at the clock, thinking it was ten minutes to two but it was ten to three. And at three, I ran.
I was so happy to be home again I forgot about work, forgot about just about all of it save for the ache in my shoulders and my legs.
I got a big hug from PJ, one from Duncan and one from Mark too, who is still here working on some tattoos for some folks, me included.
I got a really long hug from Lochlan who told me to quit. And I laughed because one crappy first day back after a micro-breakdown does not mean the end of this. Especially seeing as how I'm a little over two weeks from my first year anniversary of having a job.
And he laughed too, because he knows I'm so stubborn. Oh so stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for my own good.
Caleb came home later but I got a quick hug as he said he had a business call to attend to, that he was finishing tax season. I am suitably impressed, as I refused again to touch his taxes. He forges ahead though, and is getting it done. We'll talk when I'm done, he threatens. They make you cry, that's it. This charade is finished.
It's a part-time job! Not a charade! I tell his back as he heads upstairs to his study.
In your case it's the same thing! He calls back down. Not going to wait until it's a legal issue. We can nip it before then.
Don't you dare send threatening letters to my boss.
Those, my dear, are what make the world go around.
Sunday, 7 April 2019
Quiet Gods.
I'm finishing my breakfast, just about to go back up and get ready (I don't go to church in my pajamas) when Caleb comes in, wraps his hand around my head so he can pull me in close, his mouth against my ear and tells me he isn't about to try and take Ben's place in my life, that it is sacred and he wouldn't fuck with that. Or Jacob's. Or Cole's. Or even Lochlan's. So that I can rest easy knowing he's not going to be the bad guy anymore in my life, that he sees how frightening and exhausting it is for me.
Then he lets go and puts both arms out wide. As if to say, See? I didn't even get angry or jealous when you pointed out that I'm not going to have a formal place in this relationship hierarchy in your stupid little blog.
I have shoved him to one corner of my brain, dismissed as the boyfriend. Here close when I need him and nowhere to be found when I do not. Then maybe after years and years have gone by without him reverting back to machiavellian devil-status I will relent and give him a more formal designation but we're barely one season away from his last monstrous turn and he's as predictable as I am when it comes to sliding backwards.
But he gets it and here's a first, I guess.
Can I have a hug? His arms are still out while my mind slips right through them. Oops.
I nod and throw myself at him, as I've never turned down a good hug in my life and he's always given some of the best.
He folds his arms in around me, squeezes hard and kisses the top of my head. Believe me, Neamhchiontach. I need to get this right and if you help me, I can do it. Then he lets go and swats my ass up the stairs. Church is in an hour and you're not ready.
You going?
Not today, Doll. I frown and he laughs. I'm sure you'll have lots of company.
I come back down half an hour later ready to roll. Showered, warmly dressed and dragging Ben and Lochlan with me. Ben drives, Lochlan rides shotgun, Dalton pretends to sleep beside me, head heavy on my shoulder and I look out the window wondering if Caleb is acting or trying hard, as always.
Then he lets go and puts both arms out wide. As if to say, See? I didn't even get angry or jealous when you pointed out that I'm not going to have a formal place in this relationship hierarchy in your stupid little blog.
I have shoved him to one corner of my brain, dismissed as the boyfriend. Here close when I need him and nowhere to be found when I do not. Then maybe after years and years have gone by without him reverting back to machiavellian devil-status I will relent and give him a more formal designation but we're barely one season away from his last monstrous turn and he's as predictable as I am when it comes to sliding backwards.
But he gets it and here's a first, I guess.
Can I have a hug? His arms are still out while my mind slips right through them. Oops.
I nod and throw myself at him, as I've never turned down a good hug in my life and he's always given some of the best.
He folds his arms in around me, squeezes hard and kisses the top of my head. Believe me, Neamhchiontach. I need to get this right and if you help me, I can do it. Then he lets go and swats my ass up the stairs. Church is in an hour and you're not ready.
You going?
Not today, Doll. I frown and he laughs. I'm sure you'll have lots of company.
I come back down half an hour later ready to roll. Showered, warmly dressed and dragging Ben and Lochlan with me. Ben drives, Lochlan rides shotgun, Dalton pretends to sleep beside me, head heavy on my shoulder and I look out the window wondering if Caleb is acting or trying hard, as always.
Saturday, 6 April 2019
Dry ride.
I can see you running, runningJoel must have decided the worst of the storm had passed or maybe I just made him horribly uncomfortable enough that he left shortly after the movie ended, not wishing to see if the final installment was out or hanging around to talk with the boys. Not even two months after our last altercation in which he tried to cross my boundaries and failed and I was short and irritated with him, and he with me.
Every night from the same darkness
It's coming, coming
But you are not alone
If you just say the word
I'll be there by your side
You make me more
You make me superhuman
And if you need me to
I will save you
We didn't actually talk last night and I made such an effort to be a jerk and he made no effort not to be one and sadly I think the tides have turned with him at last and instead of a novelty, a treat, a fascination, I have become a chore. A tiresome errand he has to make a long drive to in order to verbally spar with. A tiny thorn in his side, the one person that broke him and that he somehow feels some sort of lifelong allegiance to anyway.
Maybe that's done at last. He's not the first man to get fed up with me (that was Lochlan, ironically) and probably won't be the last. But Joel was a different kind of intensity, an incredibly invasive, personal, completely wrong relationship and I still torture him every chance I get. I lie to him. I make things horrible so that he will let go but he's slow to catch on. Or maybe he isn't but he's definitely as stubborn as I am.
He will call later and tell me I lied, tell me I'm only hurting myself, tell me everything I'm doing is only going to set me back and I will disregard that too. Everything I've done as of late has made things better and I don't know if I prefer the short term gains that maybe do set me back, or the long term agony that maybe works toward a better future. I don't know. I just don't. I don't know much of anything.
I just know that waking up this morning breathless, sandwiched between Lochlan and Caleb worked, yes, Caleb, Caleb who said last night he feels as if he's finally achieved what he wanted all along. Just to share me.
Yes, that's what he said. I swear to God he's in love with Lochlan and I'm just some sort of symbolic testament to that.
He just wants to share me.
I don't have the heart to tell him that isn't what we're going to do.
I don't have the heart to remind him that Ben has a Very Big place here and it's only because he's so busy perpetually that there's any room at all for Caleb.
He knows. I'm sure he knows but he's an opportunist, as always.
Just like me.
Friday, 5 April 2019
Netflix and Friday.
I can't believe no one noticed this big box of Animal Crackers in the pantry.
YOUR LOSS, BOYS.
Edit: Actually Joel ate most of them to feel less uncomfortable while we watched Fifty Shades Darker and he pretended he was having an innocuous conversation with me while we watched. In reality he was testing me to see if the worst is over for the time being.
Before you tell me I'm making a hostile work environment for him remember I found the cookies and decided to watch the movie before he was here. If he's going to show up unannounced then he must suffer. It's totally inappropriate to watch a movie like that with him, but that's what our entire relationship has been from the beginning, so why the hell not?
It's very uh..Fifty Shades. They should have gone for a hard R, I think. It would have been better. Also I feel like every movie I watch now just screams Vancouver so loud. I can pick out every location. Please kill me, I have lived here too long (Nine years now! CHRIST!).
This movie is like watching Caleb in action. LOL
YOUR LOSS, BOYS.
Edit: Actually Joel ate most of them to feel less uncomfortable while we watched Fifty Shades Darker and he pretended he was having an innocuous conversation with me while we watched. In reality he was testing me to see if the worst is over for the time being.
Before you tell me I'm making a hostile work environment for him remember I found the cookies and decided to watch the movie before he was here. If he's going to show up unannounced then he must suffer. It's totally inappropriate to watch a movie like that with him, but that's what our entire relationship has been from the beginning, so why the hell not?
It's very uh..Fifty Shades. They should have gone for a hard R, I think. It would have been better. Also I feel like every movie I watch now just screams Vancouver so loud. I can pick out every location. Please kill me, I have lived here too long (Nine years now! CHRIST!).
This movie is like watching Caleb in action. LOL
Thursday, 4 April 2019
Out of balance.
On headphones my only copy of Pearl Jam's Black features vocals and rhythm guitar in my right ear, drums and piano in my left, and the principal guitar skews back and forth wildly. It's distracting to the point of unlistenability.
Is that a word? It is now, folks.
Ben doesn't see the problem, except with what he now calls his Little Production Quality Specialist.
It's bad, Benny.
But you love it anyway. Like me, I guess.
***
Lochlan is sitting in the gazebo when I come out, his phone and an empty coffee mug in front of him, a conflicted expression on his face. The wind blows his hair just enough to give him a leading-man appearance and I take a long minute to appreciate that. A very long minute.
What are you waiting for? Am I in your spot? But he hasn't looked at me.
Well, whatever spot you're in is where I want to be.
Fuck me. You sound like Winnie The Pooh.
I burst out laughing but he doesn't join in. Okay, what's wrong?
Nothing you can fix, Peanut, and if you're okay then that's all that matters.
Okay is a relative ter-
You know exactly what I mean. He glares at me.
I nod. Caleb staying.
Caleb staying. Because it's not enough to have a romantic dinner for four. He somehow charms every last one of us! What this fuck is that, even? Last time I looked I wasn't into the tall, dark and rakish type-
Rakish. What a delicious word!
Don't change the subject.
Another reason to want to be a man. Y'all can be rakish.
Bridge.
Yes?
How did he make me think that was totally okay? That of course it's normal-
Oh, it's so not normal, Lochlan.
I know that but how? How did he manage to bewitch me too?
It was late, mayb-
Contrary to popular belief, I care very deeply for your approval in every area of my life, my relationship to Bridget included. Caleb is behind me and I jump fifty feet. I love you like a brother. Maybe more than that. Maybe you're beginning to see my side of this finally. I certainly hope this week is an indication of things to come.
He turns and goes back in to the house. I turn and watch him go and then when I turn back around Lochlan is gone. I see the door close on the camper parked at the edge of the rock wall but I don't follow him. Instead I go back to the house.
Is that a word? It is now, folks.
Ben doesn't see the problem, except with what he now calls his Little Production Quality Specialist.
It's bad, Benny.
But you love it anyway. Like me, I guess.
***
Lochlan is sitting in the gazebo when I come out, his phone and an empty coffee mug in front of him, a conflicted expression on his face. The wind blows his hair just enough to give him a leading-man appearance and I take a long minute to appreciate that. A very long minute.
What are you waiting for? Am I in your spot? But he hasn't looked at me.
Well, whatever spot you're in is where I want to be.
Fuck me. You sound like Winnie The Pooh.
I burst out laughing but he doesn't join in. Okay, what's wrong?
Nothing you can fix, Peanut, and if you're okay then that's all that matters.
Okay is a relative ter-
You know exactly what I mean. He glares at me.
I nod. Caleb staying.
Caleb staying. Because it's not enough to have a romantic dinner for four. He somehow charms every last one of us! What this fuck is that, even? Last time I looked I wasn't into the tall, dark and rakish type-
Rakish. What a delicious word!
Don't change the subject.
Another reason to want to be a man. Y'all can be rakish.
Bridge.
Yes?
How did he make me think that was totally okay? That of course it's normal-
Oh, it's so not normal, Lochlan.
I know that but how? How did he manage to bewitch me too?
It was late, mayb-
Contrary to popular belief, I care very deeply for your approval in every area of my life, my relationship to Bridget included. Caleb is behind me and I jump fifty feet. I love you like a brother. Maybe more than that. Maybe you're beginning to see my side of this finally. I certainly hope this week is an indication of things to come.
He turns and goes back in to the house. I turn and watch him go and then when I turn back around Lochlan is gone. I see the door close on the camper parked at the edge of the rock wall but I don't follow him. Instead I go back to the house.
Wednesday, 3 April 2019
Oh real love.
But here you are to set a brand new path
To show me all that love means
When I hold you, I need you
I said forever, I mean forever
Dinner on the patio last night, later than ever as Lochlan was working with Schuyler on a thing and came back so late and all that remained by the hour long after which I should have been asleep was Ben, Lochlan, Caleb and myself. Ben and I were starving, Lochlan was indifferent but warm at the same time and Caleb was just quietly content. Happy to be there, maybe, happy to watch the waves and enjoy the food and wine and sparkling water and talk about nothing as I reset myself into life as it was before the nightmares resumed and blew me right out of my comfort zone.
Caleb spears a final olive on his fork. Problem is, it's from my plate.
Hey.
Come get it. He holds the fork high above his head and grins. I place my plate on the table from my lap and then his plate too, climbing into his lap and then standing up to reach my olive. He groans as I manage to hit all the right places to step and the others laugh.
I take his fork, for good measure and settle back into his lap.
Take my olive, will you. That's what you get.
I didn't think you liked the black olives.
If you would ever let me choose pizza toppings you would know I like those ones best. Actually no. Manzanilla ones stuffed with garlic are the best. Garlic and hot peppers.
Forget it. You get pineapple on pizza if we let you choose. It's better if someone does it for you.
Forever ten years old. Pick my pop flavour for me, open it too, because I can't, finish it for me since it will be too much and never ever ask me what I'd like on my pizza since it's assumed I will like what they like, without exception
And I mostly do, except for pineapple.
His offhand remark reminds me that this is my comfort zone, the place where everything is done for me, decided for me, chosen for me. It's a place that, when things are at their worst, I don't mind.
I put my head down against his chest and he slides me down to one side, one arm holding me tight against him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out.
Next time we'll get pineapple, he says, a promise instantly forgotten as he kisses the top of my head and squeezes me hard.
It's safe. And it's warm and I close my eyes and I don't wake up until he startles me softly. It's later still and the ice cubes are low measures of warm water in the bottoms of our glasses. Ben is watching me intently and Lochlan is standing beside Caleb's chair.
Come on, Neamhchiontach-sleepy-head. Bed time.
Lochlan pulls me up to my feet and I lean my head against his shoulder. So tired. We head inside and upstairs, Lochlan's arm around my waist, his lips against my temple.
Once inside our room Lochlan strips off my campfire-smoke clothes and marvels at how sleepy I am (eyes so heavy). Briefly he tries to head off the coming storm but then he is too late and it hits, capsizing us, knocking us into the sea where we flail against the dark before finding purchase again, before finding safety in Caleb, who didn't leave like I thought he would, instead remaining to trace my tattoos on my bare skin and remind me that once, he was the nightmare, and then he became the good brother.
When I woke up this morning, I could still smell the smoke in our hair, but their arms were around me, a dreamstate tug of war with all winners, no losers. I didn't ask Caleb to stay but he did, I didn't ask Ben to make space but he did, I didn't ask Loch if it would be alright if this happened (but it did and it was alright indeed) and this morning no one resorted to violence and no one could find any ghosts at all.
Caleb spears a final olive on his fork. Problem is, it's from my plate.
Hey.
Come get it. He holds the fork high above his head and grins. I place my plate on the table from my lap and then his plate too, climbing into his lap and then standing up to reach my olive. He groans as I manage to hit all the right places to step and the others laugh.
I take his fork, for good measure and settle back into his lap.
Take my olive, will you. That's what you get.
I didn't think you liked the black olives.
If you would ever let me choose pizza toppings you would know I like those ones best. Actually no. Manzanilla ones stuffed with garlic are the best. Garlic and hot peppers.
Forget it. You get pineapple on pizza if we let you choose. It's better if someone does it for you.
Forever ten years old. Pick my pop flavour for me, open it too, because I can't, finish it for me since it will be too much and never ever ask me what I'd like on my pizza since it's assumed I will like what they like, without exception
And I mostly do, except for pineapple.
His offhand remark reminds me that this is my comfort zone, the place where everything is done for me, decided for me, chosen for me. It's a place that, when things are at their worst, I don't mind.
I put my head down against his chest and he slides me down to one side, one arm holding me tight against him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out.
Next time we'll get pineapple, he says, a promise instantly forgotten as he kisses the top of my head and squeezes me hard.
It's safe. And it's warm and I close my eyes and I don't wake up until he startles me softly. It's later still and the ice cubes are low measures of warm water in the bottoms of our glasses. Ben is watching me intently and Lochlan is standing beside Caleb's chair.
Come on, Neamhchiontach-sleepy-head. Bed time.
Lochlan pulls me up to my feet and I lean my head against his shoulder. So tired. We head inside and upstairs, Lochlan's arm around my waist, his lips against my temple.
Once inside our room Lochlan strips off my campfire-smoke clothes and marvels at how sleepy I am (eyes so heavy). Briefly he tries to head off the coming storm but then he is too late and it hits, capsizing us, knocking us into the sea where we flail against the dark before finding purchase again, before finding safety in Caleb, who didn't leave like I thought he would, instead remaining to trace my tattoos on my bare skin and remind me that once, he was the nightmare, and then he became the good brother.
When I woke up this morning, I could still smell the smoke in our hair, but their arms were around me, a dreamstate tug of war with all winners, no losers. I didn't ask Caleb to stay but he did, I didn't ask Ben to make space but he did, I didn't ask Loch if it would be alright if this happened (but it did and it was alright indeed) and this morning no one resorted to violence and no one could find any ghosts at all.
Tuesday, 2 April 2019
Netflix + milk.
One of the best husbands I have ever had is definitely Ben. Ben who got up this morning (early-early) and got cereal for us on a tray and put Netflix on the laptop and propped it up so we could snuggle in late. We spent a couple of hours slowly finishing two huge bowls of Honeycombs with chocolate milk because he's insane and we watched cooking shows, because so am I.
Chocolate milk in cereal is terrible. Also Honeycombs are huge. I gave up trying to fit them in my face and ate them like cookies, picking them up one at a time to take bites of while we marvelled over the cinematography of the new season of Chef's Table, which I am struggling to finish (yeah..still). I think it's because this season they're really focusing on the personal trials of each chef to the point that the food is not even a second thought but a distant memory instead. Only there's no character development so I don't exactly care and my mind wanders and I have to re-watch.
Ben is barely watching it at all. He is watching me while he easily fits multiple Honeycombs in his mouth at once. He has a large mouth to go with his entire oversized being. Someone once joked that I was a third of a Ben, proper but I think it's more like precisely half. Either way he makes up a lot of ground on my behalf these days and took Lochlan's cheap opportunity to make up his own ground and threw it out the window.
Either make your huge sweeping gestures all the damn time or fuck off, Lochlan was told. This just makes things worse.
And true to form, Lochlan fucked off. Because he is flighty and fancy and full of fire as much as he is pragmatic and he also has a pride problem and so he went off to lick his wounds and Ben took the opportunity the moment it presented itself.
I need to get dressed, I tell Ben, licking my spoon. He will drink the leftover milk. I'm lactose intolerant anyway and not a big fan of chocolate milk, or even cereal but I am a huge fan of Ben. The biggest smallest fan of his that ever was.
For what? He asks, letting his forehead knit. He sounds cross at the thought of anything breaking this momentary, wonderful spell.
It's my turn to clean bathrooms.
Let each of them clean their own. He orders.
And ours.
The kids can do theirs.
And ours, I repeat.
We'll make Lochlan do it.
Seriously. Besides, it's cold right now, without clothes on.
Ben reaches down and grabs his t-shirt off the floor. He turns it rightside out and puts it over my head, pulling it down over me. Whitechapel. Right on.
There. Now you're dressed.
This will be a good look while I do my chores.
I told you, we're leaving them for Lochlan. We're going to stay in bed all day and watch television and be regular people.
We're so NOT regular peop-
WE CAN TRY.
Chocolate milk in cereal is terrible. Also Honeycombs are huge. I gave up trying to fit them in my face and ate them like cookies, picking them up one at a time to take bites of while we marvelled over the cinematography of the new season of Chef's Table, which I am struggling to finish (yeah..still). I think it's because this season they're really focusing on the personal trials of each chef to the point that the food is not even a second thought but a distant memory instead. Only there's no character development so I don't exactly care and my mind wanders and I have to re-watch.
Ben is barely watching it at all. He is watching me while he easily fits multiple Honeycombs in his mouth at once. He has a large mouth to go with his entire oversized being. Someone once joked that I was a third of a Ben, proper but I think it's more like precisely half. Either way he makes up a lot of ground on my behalf these days and took Lochlan's cheap opportunity to make up his own ground and threw it out the window.
Either make your huge sweeping gestures all the damn time or fuck off, Lochlan was told. This just makes things worse.
And true to form, Lochlan fucked off. Because he is flighty and fancy and full of fire as much as he is pragmatic and he also has a pride problem and so he went off to lick his wounds and Ben took the opportunity the moment it presented itself.
I need to get dressed, I tell Ben, licking my spoon. He will drink the leftover milk. I'm lactose intolerant anyway and not a big fan of chocolate milk, or even cereal but I am a huge fan of Ben. The biggest smallest fan of his that ever was.
For what? He asks, letting his forehead knit. He sounds cross at the thought of anything breaking this momentary, wonderful spell.
It's my turn to clean bathrooms.
Let each of them clean their own. He orders.
And ours.
The kids can do theirs.
And ours, I repeat.
We'll make Lochlan do it.
Seriously. Besides, it's cold right now, without clothes on.
Ben reaches down and grabs his t-shirt off the floor. He turns it rightside out and puts it over my head, pulling it down over me. Whitechapel. Right on.
There. Now you're dressed.
This will be a good look while I do my chores.
I told you, we're leaving them for Lochlan. We're going to stay in bed all day and watch television and be regular people.
We're so NOT regular peop-
WE CAN TRY.
Monday, 1 April 2019
Terrible, beautiful life.
Pretty sure This Beautiful Life by Colony House is the most incredibly gorgeous song in the world right now. If everyone isn't using as their wedding song already then they should be.
Pretty sure slow-dancing to it with Lochlan under the lights on the patio last night helped bring me back from the hole I dug using the sharp edges of my nightmares over the past little while.
Pretty sure his solid hold on me kept me from slipping any further, instead helping to give me purchase to climb back up.
He isn't a spiritual man. He is reality-based. Logical. Pragmatic. Cogent. Sensible. And also certifiably magical.
And even as I started the night knocking on the door to hell I ended it in a much, much better place. Even as the Devil answered the door in surprise, the surprise grew as I was pulled away again, led back down the hall with a refusal to even entertain my motivations or my actions altogether.
Sunset is starting, Lochlan says. Let's watch it. Let's just watch it and not do anything else.
It's a response to a complaint I gave when I was eleven and I just wanted to stop packing up for five minutes and watch the sunset but we didn't have time because you can't pack up after dark with no lights.
She (the eleven year old that mercurially rules my world) is very happy with the complaint resolution. It seemed like something so simple but the difference in experience led to endless disappointment as she tried to live in the moment and learned...not to.
One of my biggest regrets, he says as he spins me around under his arm.
And now, fixed. I reassure him and he smiles in the near-dark, curls backlit, mood backlit. Everything backlit. Magic hour indeed. Who needs the devil when you have a magician? Who needs a ghost when I've got a live one? Who needs the maturity of an eleven-year-old when...
I mean, I don't know if I can fix that part but I'm trying.
Pretty sure slow-dancing to it with Lochlan under the lights on the patio last night helped bring me back from the hole I dug using the sharp edges of my nightmares over the past little while.
Pretty sure his solid hold on me kept me from slipping any further, instead helping to give me purchase to climb back up.
He isn't a spiritual man. He is reality-based. Logical. Pragmatic. Cogent. Sensible. And also certifiably magical.
And even as I started the night knocking on the door to hell I ended it in a much, much better place. Even as the Devil answered the door in surprise, the surprise grew as I was pulled away again, led back down the hall with a refusal to even entertain my motivations or my actions altogether.
Sunset is starting, Lochlan says. Let's watch it. Let's just watch it and not do anything else.
It's a response to a complaint I gave when I was eleven and I just wanted to stop packing up for five minutes and watch the sunset but we didn't have time because you can't pack up after dark with no lights.
She (the eleven year old that mercurially rules my world) is very happy with the complaint resolution. It seemed like something so simple but the difference in experience led to endless disappointment as she tried to live in the moment and learned...not to.
One of my biggest regrets, he says as he spins me around under his arm.
And now, fixed. I reassure him and he smiles in the near-dark, curls backlit, mood backlit. Everything backlit. Magic hour indeed. Who needs the devil when you have a magician? Who needs a ghost when I've got a live one? Who needs the maturity of an eleven-year-old when...
I mean, I don't know if I can fix that part but I'm trying.
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