It’s well into the wee hours of a very cold December morning. Heather and I are standing in front of Parkside Lounge on Houston. Sarah B is on the corner over Heather’s shoulder, hand on her hip. Heather is crying. Emphatically.
It was a Thursday night. It was a really fun Thursday night. I had just released my new record, ‘Almost Home,’ and played the last show of a 17-date tour. I was shredded, but elated. I was a little bombed. I was surrounded by my friends. And I was falling in love. But not with Heather.
But you wouldn’t have known much of that from my journal that night:
- We had a hell of a time at the Parkside Lounge after party (as you’ve no doubt seen in the photos). I don’t remember much: political debates with Bruce, salsa dancing with Heather and Sara, me on the CD player, The Pixies, The Brooklyn Gang, me in a baby seat in the snow… lotsa’ fun. We closed the place down. I got home at 5, cooked some eggs, microwaved some vegetables, blogged, then fell into bed.
What I omitted (dude, my site ain’t anonymous) was Heather ‘n me post-salsa dancing. When she found out that we wouldn’t be kissing, and that I was dating someone in New York, well … Sad Fish. Drunk, Sad, Uncontrolably Weeping Fish.
It’s a pretty clear picture in my head: the black of the sky, the white of the snow, downtown hipsters all blurry in my peripheral vision, yellow cabs and neon. And tears. Lots of freezing tears.
I remember that I kept saying, “But I’m just a boy! I’m just a stupid boy!”
All those tears didn’t seem worthy of me. Come to think of it, all those tears probably weren’t about me at all.
Tomorrow: The Lost Weekend
Sigh. Sadly, you boys are the cause of quite a few tears for many of us. Worthy of them or not.
Double sigh.
The Ball swings both ways ladies. We have sailed around the world chasing what we thought was our dream. Only to be sunk in the harbot of despair.
Sigh……..
I thought today was supposed to be The Lost Weekend.
My boy of three and a half years still makes me cry. Rarely but still sometimes.
I feel like I’ve learned more in the past three days than I have in the last six months. Does she know you’re writing all this? (I’m sure it’s not as revealing as I think it is.)
One difference I noticed (having scrolled down to read an earlier entry): the titles have capital letters in them.
Heath knows I’m writing this, and in fact emailed me her approval from Spain on Sunday night. That said, I’m not really sure if I’ve said too much or not. I guess I’m comfortable with the warts and all aspect of it because I know it has a happy ending.
And yes, today was supposed to be The Lost Weekend, but I remembered The Meltdown came first. (I’m a sucker for chronology.)
I want more! These cliffhanger endings are killing me! More more!