Donald Fagan is a God -or- Letting It Out
As planned I looked at some apartments last night, and found one that might do the trick. It’s on the other side of town from where I am now, and I think that’s a good thing. Ironically enough it is in the same neighborhood that I first lived in when I arrived in DC. The “Full Circle” aspect was oddly comforting.
I then had dinner with Southie (cuz he lived in Southie, Boston…like Good Will Hunting, yo) and his GF Blondie (cuz she’s…well, yeah) last night. Apparently exFiance (Jesus, I looked at that for a good minute after typing it) had called wanting to meet up with Blondie, and she spilled the beans…so, the proverbial cat is now out of the proverbial bag. They chose to come and meet me instead. I loved them for that, but of course I then realized that it’s come to this…people choosing sides. We’ll divvy them up like so many other things. I hate that this is my life, but thank god for friends that have dinner with you and buy you drinks.
Personally, whenever people are dividing things up on the way out the door, I always think of that scene in St Elmo’s Fire; “NO SPRINGSTEEN IS LEAVING THIS HOUSE”.
We went to Bobby Vans (a place I rarely go) and ate, and then it was “let’s have a drink”…because that’s what you do when your friend is in a bad way. And I agreed…knowing I shouldn’t but thinking “this is a good thing…” We had one, then another, and then the questions started coming out. Did you know? How’d she tell you? Are you OK? I winced through some answers and before I knew it, another friend came, and the four of us sat there and joked and laughed and generally just propped me up.
It’s good to have friends.
The long and the short of it is that before I knew it, I was drunk…and it was nice. I wasn’t that weepy “OH GOD WHY ME” drunk. It was more of an appreciative, thankful drunk.
At one point, Southie and I found ourselves outside, where we had the following exchange;
“Ya know what you need, right?”
A new apartment and a stomach that doesn’t suck?
“Ya need to get LAID”…he said the word “LAID” like it was a holy, holy thing. OK, it IS a holy thing.
No, trust me, I don’t.
“No really. Trust me. You need to call what’s her name…”
Who? (I have no idea why I asked)
“That Mexican chick you used to date”
First of all she was Spanish. And secondly, she is completely insane, and that is not going to help.
“I thought she was Mexican….but either way you need to get laid…what about that hot black chick you dated back in the day?”
No, Southie, it’s not happening.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about…let’s get you another drink”
And that’s what we did…another drink. By the time it was all said and done I was, as I said, drunk…and feeling no pain. I jumped in a cab and headed home…the cabbie, god love him, was listening to Steely Dan.
In the mornin you go gunnin’
For the man who stole your water
And you fire till he is done in
But they catch you at the border
I love this song I tell the cabbie. The cabbie smiles and turns it up and I watch DC go by thinking of nothing until the chorus
and you go back, Jack, you do it again
And I think “I feel ya, Fagan…it’s the repitition that kills you…”
And I think about that fucking VK post…trying to unlearn. Just amazing stuff. And I catch myself getting a little overwhelmed and I think “not now…not in a god damned cab”. I don’t know why I don’t want it to come in a cab listening to Steely Dan, but I don’t.
I get home to find that exFiance (Still doesn’t feel natural to type that) is asleep, and I look at her and realize that I’m not wanted in that bed anymore, and my night is going to end on the couch.
And then it comes.
I sit at my desk and the flood comes, and it’s overdue. And it’s overwhelming…it just erupts out of me. I knew it was going to happen, but I was somehow hoping that I could make it until I was out of the apartment before it did….which of course makes me realize that once I am out of the apartment it’s probably going to come AGAIN, and that feels like a boot in the gut.
Get a grip I keep thinking…just get a fucking grip. Which I do…I realize I just can’t face the couch yet, and I log on…and what do I find?
The kindest, most supportive messages I could ever imagine. And of course they get me choked up again…these are people I don’t know. YOU are someone I don’t know…and you’re all being just unbelievable. Because when you want to reach out and there’s no one there, it’s the worst…but when you want to reach out and there are people reaching back for you, it’s just an incredible feeling. There is no other way to describe it, and depressed though I am…it helps.
Thanks to you for your thoughts.