Stumble Into Grace

Oh the stories I could tell
Sometimes I really hit my stride
We make our own heaven and our own hell
Tryin to get across to the other side
But everyday ends up the same
One step up two steps back
Like some old silent movie frame
Zoom in close then fade to black
Can you hear me now? can you hear me now?

I drove through the intersection without looking. No signal. No stopping. If a car was coming from the other direction, there would have been a collision. I just didn't have it in me to wait and I didn't care if there was bloodshed.

****

#1 She received the cell phone call while on the radio, making her debut. Her friend was twittering about all the single, successful men calling her to go out on dates, she held the phone at a distance. This friend's divorce had been much more public than her own. The two were complete opposites, and most likely the men who called her friend would not be remotely interested in her and vise-versa.
For radio's sake, she told her friend she was busy--her friend wanted to get together as so much had happened..starting a speed dating thing with a man, the most elligible bachelor in town wanted to get together. Her friend had a date last night with a cute financial planner. What about Pisces-Taurus? She hung up and looked at her friend Jim, shaking her head. Her heart just wasn't in that space yet.
He smiled, remembering his own experience with divorce.
"...that was Emmylou Harris' Can you Hear me Now off her Stumble Into Grace release. Before that, we heard... "

#2 She flipped through the rolidex in her mind: the cards contained distorted faces of the men she had once loved. On each card was a short description, a few adjectives to define them, how things ended, where they might be now.
Most of them were faded, ripped out, earmarked, tear-stained. A few had obscenities written on their haggard faces:
Married
Co-dependent
Too young
Too involved with job--not interested in a relationship (with me)
Too old
Abusive
Drunk
Unrequited

She thought of the years wasted on prooving herself to these men. Over and over,
she reviewed them and one thing was common for all of them:
They didn't or couldn't, shouldn't or wouldn't love her for who she was. To them, she was a mere tease, a distraction, a seduction, a fantasy, a nightmare, a disappointment,a complication, a rebound, a sacrifice, a stalker, a psycho, a waste of time. Funny--She now thought of them the very same way.

How did the load get to be so heavy
I used to wear my trouble like a crown
A bad flood's poundin' on the levee
And l'm gonna need some help
To hold my ground

#3 She was meeting a few of them at the pool. All of them had kids. She had very little in common with any of these women except they all worked in her department and were mothers.
All here married--happily,or so it seemed. She was suprised that they called her to tag along. While the other women sat together with their children between their legs--she and her daughter waded into the deeper end of the pool. Lilly liked to be in the middle of the action, not sitting along side watching it happen. Her mom was the same way.
Little did she know, it was lonley and unsatisfying being there. Lilly would find that out years later. She hauled Lilly, kicking and screaming, back to the other women and their children playing contently at their sides to try to fit in. Her smile was obviously fake.
As in all areas of her life, she felt trapped. Awkward and uncomfortable, she left shortly after-- promising Lilly the world when they arrived back home.

But I'm sinkin' like a stone
To where in solitude this life I'll spend
In the coldest place I've ever known
I'm here just waitin' until the end
I send up my S.O.S.
A message in a bottle set out to sea
It just reads soul in d istress
But nobody ever got back to me
Can you hear me now can you hear me now?

#4 She sat in soma most of the morning typing. She was often interrupted by friends and aquaintances alike--the regulars that made her day seem normal. She loved the energy in the place. She felt at ease. It was an oasis from the ugly realities that lurked outside. It was a sham but she didn't care.
He never came by.
She waited and waited but he never came.
She doesn't look up anymore.
She doesn't look back.
She doesn't feel anything.
She was relieved: he was gone for good.

"We arouse pity by cultivating the most repulsive wounds"

There are many things that I love about summer:
Eating raw vegetables straight out of the garden.
Coming inside to air-condition on a hot day, reeking of suntan lotion and sweat- bathing suit still wet. The smell of rain on hot pavement. Cold beer on a hot night. (do I smell a theme here?)
As I write this, the fan is blowing on my bathing-suit-backed-body and I am eating sweet peas, onions and cucumbers. Tomorrow I am picking strawberries with my sisters--dear God, I hope we don't kill each other. Delightful.

I am within pages of the end of Bullshit Night in Suck City and am anxiously awaiting my copy of Stones of Summer to arrive today via Amazon.com. The movie Stone Reader, although slow in places, reminded me why I like to read.

I applied for a part time job today (thanks to my smarty pants boys for the references)--went to check the place out and ended up walking out with a dozen or more assorted cds:
The Strokes
3 Emmylou Harris cds
Johnny Cash
Gillian Welch
The Postal Service
Let it Be--Beatles
Brian Wilson's Smile
Fleetwood Mac Live in Boston
David Bowie's Heathen
Bjork's Medulla
Elvis Costello's North, The Delivery Man and All this useless beauty

Plus, my own copy of Neko Case's Furnace Room Lullaby that should keep me busy for at least a few days. I am headed to the station to meet her in person, I think she is playing a few or at least doing an interview. I have about 15 minutes to kill, so I wanted to tell this story:

I have but one true friend in town. His name is Jim. I refer to him as Crazy Jim, or Cancer Jim. He is an old homeless man--a scientist and in my mind a sociologist. I started talking to Jim at length about three years ago, when escaping the house was my favorite pasttime. We generally talk at the local hangouts--soma or the spoon.
Last Thanksgiving I volunteered at the soup kitchen, and in came my toothless friend, all smiles and sarcasm.

What I love about Jim is how he tangents. I also love that he speaks the truth about people. Yesterday we discussed the term
Mammon
at length. We frequently talk about love, living conditions and The Man. It's hard to get a word in edgewise, but when the exchange happens, it reminds me that it's so nice to have a non-judgmental friend to buy you a cup of coffee every now and then..
I guess it makes Bullshit Night that much more meaningful to me.

Too bad perfect strangers become the best friends and people you have known for years end up strangers? One of life's mysteries--or miracles. Who's to say? I should make a list of true friends.

I just decided to skip Neko (sorry) and instead wait to see STARS next Sunday at Bluebird. A hot new band worth of a listen. Hopefully not as expensive too.

'Night you.