When things start to get really crazy in my life, I find it intensely comforting that no matter what happens, the songs in my iPod pretty much stay the same. That's not because I've been listening to the same music for years or anything, it just means that I'm too busy/lazy/distracted to swap out any of the songs on the limited space on this 4GB machine. So in times of extreme duress, when the world goes for a continuous assault on my cranium, I listen to the same 777 songs over and over again. It reminds me that oh yeah, yesterday when I listened to this same exact song, my life was like "this" and four days ago, it was like "this," and seven days ago, it was like "this." So they help to form some kind of stable backdrop to the WHA!...WHA!..WHA! that the world keeps pouring in.
Ah. Please note that I am blogging from Teacher's College, sitting across from one of the finest specimen's of male existence I have seen in several days. So if I seem a bit more distracted than usual...mmm...it's because I'm ovulating and there's an extremely hot man wearing a grey thermal shirt and a bandana pheremone-sniffing distance away from me.
Y'all got my email about Neighbor's accident, which meant that I spent eight wondrous hours in the "step-down" floor, which means "a step down from intensive care," but not yet in a regular room. Hospitals don't freak me out as much as a lot of people because my parents work in them and I spent some time in them as a kid wandering the halls, and lived in one for a week. I'm just intensely grateful that she is going to be okay and I'm glad that I can be here for her in whatever capacity possible. I can't help myself from making the cliche mention of how fragile life is, particularly when enclosed in a metal box zipping around at obviously unmanageable speeds. Have I mentioned how terrified I am of cars?
I love you, my friends. I cannot do anything without you, and the thought of losing any one of you makes me sick with anxiety. Sometimes I get so scared about things happening to people I love that I want to vomit or booze it away, and I was in a cold-sweaty state of paralysis for the ride out to the farthest fucken hospital in the five boroughs to find Neighbor. Of course I had to run from the main lobby to the emergency department, back to the main lobby, to the recovery floor, to the "step-down" intensive care unit until I actually laid eyes on her, and I attribute my two-week mark of sobriety to being strong enough not to cry and to deal with her family. Poor thing was doing a remarkable job of doing that herself with a goddamn neck brace and breathing tube on. She is so fucken strong.
I felt sad and vulnerable that day and I wanted to be coddled by a man, so I texted Joe. I felt a little sheepish about it because I thought I'd broken up with him that cuntly Friday two weeks ago that marked the end of some serious boozeness an the beginning of sobriety. I was a little surprised that he was down to see me again, but happy nonetheless. I promised myself to be good to him as his reward for coming to see me.
After eight hours in the 90-degree hospital, I went from Flushing, Queens to the Flushing G stop for Red's good-bye party, which was in his unheated warehouse loft space. It was difficult for about twenty minutes to not stare longingly at all the beer, which did not even need to be refrigerated. But then I had a good time. I kept an eye out for Joe, and did not even have to be anxious that he would show up because he is Joe, and Joe is dependable and sweet and he likes me. We had a good time dancing and that night I think we reached some kind of understanding, both independently and together.
These are the big realizations I've made about my feelings toward Joe:
1. I completely trust him. This should say it all. I've never felt this way about a boy since Prince, my very first boyfriend in high school.
2. I don't find him exciting at all. Or particularly funny. This is also the way I felt about Prince. Obviously I am drawn to guys I find exciting or funny, guys that provoke me in some way. With Prince I was just always excited to see him because I was in love with him. This definitely has something to do with the fact that I'm not intensely physically attracted to him, though I know for me that can change over time so I'm not particularly concerned about it.
3. I'm incredibly attracted to his stability and positivity. I particularly want to see him when I'm in bad mood or when I'm stressed out. When I'm feeling hyperactive or really good about life, I don't really think about him as much. I have no idea what this means.
4. I only want to have sex with him like once a week. I don't know what this means, because he's great in bed and I love it when we do have sex.
5. I complicate everything and he simplifies everything. If I were to send him this post, he would probably laugh and say, "Don't worry about it, dude. Things are good, right? Let's go for a walk and look at the river."
Joe makes everything okay. And he sings this kind of silly song that is so beautiful and comforting and hopeful and I want to listen to it all the time. If you go here and click on song #5 (There's a Place), maybe you'll agree with me. (oh god...hot boy distracting me with mannish sighing...bwahaha) It is nice to think about love today, because it has gotten cold and I am stressed about $chool and Neighbor and sober Thanksgiving but I feel good about things with Joe because when I left his place yesterday I didn't flee, as I am usually wont to do.
I think now that I am sober, I am actually ready to fall in love. And I got Joe to give me an mp3 file of his song that I'm obsessed with, so now I can put it on my iPod and incorporate it into my mental loop, so I think this will work out quite nicely.