I imagine that it’s funny how I think about relationships. I have a couple of little triggers that make me think “success” or “failure”. The automatic cooperation that comes with years of partnership. The way my aunt and uncle would make a bed together or the way Rick and Audrey do the same. The way my brother and his wife execute little tasks of domesticity with little effort and less thought but with perfect coordination. It’s not something my parents did, or if it was, it wasn’t something I was aware of.
It’s the way Heather and I work together – when one stumbles the other steps in and takes up the slack. When she breaks a string I take her part and when I miss a word she sings it through. We’re invested in one another’s Lives, in our failure or success. I have a couple of friends like that – and when I fall apart they sweep me up, take me in, brush me off and know that I’ll come to my senses. It’s a trust that my crazy’s not permanent.
Next door to the Lovely Bossa Bistro and Lounge – Madam’s Organ where I’d LIKE to be playing. (though I’d have to be careful with that sentence in mixed company) OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Yay, new fans while playing an otherwise pretty rough show at the Bossa Bistro in Washington DC. She came up to me and said that our music made her want to kiss people. They were on their first date and she found herself helpless but for the smoochin. To the right is the audience at the Blue Horn Lounge – you can see Jamie and Sean in the back of the room there being encouraging. We came in second for the night and the group who won totally kicked our ass. Utterly fantastic they were. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Second prize winners from the Blue Horn Lounge annual open mic challenge win like, a LOT of stuff. We got some cash… and hats… and lighters… and mugs… and well, the cat was separate. Cowboy boots, though excellent in the desert environment and theoretically rattler-proof (snakes, not the Cobra terrorist organization’s mainstay jet fighter) are really NOT so good with the snow.
One of my favourite people recently said “don’t play in my crazy”… I’ve got my own crazy to play in, I suppose, to write about and to impliment. I imagine one day having that partner in domestic locomotion but I don’t know that it will happen. It seems a little more distant everyday and I Live through my Love of other people’s homes and personal tranquilities, the stability of a home Life that might never really be mine. I Loved watching one woman putting herself together for the day, make up and motion and hair brush and armour. And I Love watching Heather brush her teeth and I want someone to one day know how long I take in the bathroom and to know that for some reason I always end up with toothpasty lather on the left side of my moustache and NEVER on my right and to Love me for it.
I’m tense at night, trying to fall asleep. I sit up and right songs like it’s my job (oh yeah) but I need to be functional in the daylight hours. I need to make the system run and that requires sleep and sometimes pouring out my thoughts here are the only way to make them settle down. Let them run around the space outside my head for a little while, let them breathe and tucker themselves out. My skull is far, far too contained for the wars going on in there.