Figure 1: Example Image from his Video "Stay Awake." (Example)
1.
Room
for Rent:
Measurements: 40 feet by 60 feet. Window with view of a similar house—Korean residents
who stack their yard trimmings up like a barricade. The room is very small, and cold but that warmth you once felt inside, and that you have suppressed when you were "alive" will come back to you if you live here and try.
Neighbors: One alcoholic divorcee, one male nurse, and one grandfather with a grumpy sheep dog. Spacious room over Garage, so sudden cold
drafts will freeze you in winter.
Amenities: One closet--one spacious wall facing east--one
wall in disrepair--perfect for posters.
Zen
existence, though room for a TV is possible if mounted on the wall.
Four
roommates: Expect your food to be eaten,
your cutlery dirtied and your dishes stacked in a pattern resembling the tower of Babylon. Loud music will be played; communal eating displayed
and parties will happen whether you want it or not. Groups of sex hungry 20 to 30-somethings will crowd your house, in a fevered frenzy and dance in the common room, until the room is crowded and loud, exhibiting mass chaos, or a mosh pit. These "guests" will seek sex, oblivion,, malaise, ennui and you to listen to them. You yourself will often join them in the frenzied dance where you will be foreced to lift your hands above your head whether you feel you have earned it or not.
Often roommates will raise their hands in celebration for no reason at all--their activity will range from controlled to pointless, but they will stay awake all given they wish to eat life hard, rather than conform to anything the "man" wants of them.
Often roommates will raise their hands in celebration for no reason at all--their activity will range from controlled to pointless, but they will stay awake all given they wish to eat life hard, rather than conform to anything the "man" wants of them.
Rent:
300 dollars. Common room shall be
filled often. Laundry services available
a block away—college atmosphere present.
Bonuses: Pizza will be eaten. Loud sex will be heard through the walls, in
rhythm sometimes to loud music.
Arguments will ensue. Nerf-gun
fights will escalate quickly--pranks may
be played. Roommates will conveniently
turn their heads to your feelings. Roommates will drag you to strange clubs smelling of sweat, testosterone, bad cologne, and endorphins, where you might be tricked into a mosh pit and go home with quite a bit of bruises, and an adrenalin high.
Obsessions will exist over PlayStation, Burgers, beautiful women (and who is the most beautiful) sexual positions, rank humor, abundant flatulence, and general depression.
Ideal for college student, or someone who has lived in their parent’s basement for years on end-this will literally be the most interesting time of your life, and you will laugh and cry experiencing the full range of human emotions.
Fig 2. "Flashing Lights." Video by Chase and Status. (Chase).
2.
Shopping List
There’s an edge to music that is produced by English artists, which is different from that produced in the states-- for one thing. it moves me to an aggressive and active enthusiasm, that few others do.
English Dub-step is life affirming, to the point that it needs no reason to be life affirming.
Its beats are visceral in their tempo. Its lyrics have harmonious hooks that catch like lures on the skin to adjust the listeners’ posture.
Fig. 4. Devolution video "Good Love." (Devolution).
4.
"You know you're only in it cause its hot right now"--Rita Ora. "Hot Right Now."
My room-mate has shown me videos. One video takes my breath away. This girl with an angelic face dances in front of a computer screen, and she's just jamming out hard, while it appears the boy who she has been talking to via video chat is frustrated. His frustration has a little something to do, with his attitude. She ignores him, and for a moment, throws her hair back, just as the dub-step makes its drop. What follows is a complete moment of innervation, lights flash, snow falls, confetti explodes. The world becomes visceral and alive, and all he can do is watch her and frown like a whiny school boy.
Her body becomes the music, turning in it, as if the world has melted away and there is only the rhythm, sound and her dancing. For weeks, I have been the boy, but right now, when the song moves through me, i want to be the girl. She cannot be held or broken, her joy is energized on a subatomic level, and she has the fire inside her, and nothing will stop her.
And then I hear the words. "Back in control of my life" (Devolution). The song is my anthem. It is the strange, sacred truth of my situation. I am in control, and I have the fire. For a moment, I can hear Rita Ora say something else, but right now, I'm in the heat of the moment, and I want to let it go and go and never turn back.
Fig. 5 Rita Ora. "Hot Right Now." (Ora).
5.
"Throw your hands up if you think you've got it. / Going crazy we've not even started."--Rita Ora. "Hot Right Now."
Dub-step continues to run through my head, even three months after the move in. Each day is a new day, filled with challenges. Sometimes I find myself like so many of the youthful people of the videos, lifting my hands up, or throwing my hands up simply enjoying myself, and then realize, I am still living in a one room cell, over a garage with no female in my life, other than the lovely Ms. Ora, who sneers at me mostly through the video screen. "Throw your hands in the air if you want it right now" (Ora). There's no doubt I want to be alive as the kids dancing on my screen who seem to be able to celebrate at a moments notice, but even prematurely throwing my hands in the air seems fake, but for now I guess you fake it until you make it.
There are many good days. There are many bad days. the music has helped me, but like Rita says, strongly, there's a limit to its power. Indeed what was yesterday and seemed cloud nine, has become fraught with problems. Sometimes, I'm strong enough to resist her emotional support, and with my roommate sending me new dub step to watch.
As I slowly rebuild my bank account, I realize that Ms. Ora is correct--there are too many up and down moments in my life to fully ignore and fail to learn from.
The truth is, my depression can still take hold in a moment's notice; I keep it at bay by staying busy.
The poster wall, by the way is filled only with the stuff that "won't be bringing me down" (Devolution).
Fig. 5. My room and the wall suitable for posters.
All over the walls are many things. Reciepts from failed dates. Pictures of life affirming ideas. Verses from poems. Trinkets. Charms. Notes from girls with phone numbers that sometimes I'm afraid to call because I believe I'll blow it. Piece after piece opens something new in me, building up like fire for kindling--at The Centre a place I went, they called it a vision board, which I transformed into a vision wall--each day something new goes up on it. Each day I refine my vision of the future, with both what I want and what I hope represents me. If you put a lot of hard work into something it becomes sacred, My vision board is sacred.
It’s 7 o'clock in my small room, about the size of an office. One closet.--one used mattress--one old desk, and below me a garage full of my old books, that I can’t fit into the room.
It’s been 3 months since I left her. What was first a smile that covered my face has now morphed into an explicable down turned frown, similar to the one grumpy cat wears on a constant basis.
Thought I have several roommates who are at times hilarious, and energetic, they are not females. Whether or not I can be with a female again is something I question from time to time.
At times, I wonder if I'm completely damaged. Occasionally I tell my friends that I might have met someone--they return that with the words, "Oooooh, do you think you're ready?"
I resist the urge to scream at them. At times I wonder if I can date again normally without telegraphing the same mistakes that landed me here in Garland, to which at times, I have been labeled by all my old friends, the title James of Garland.
Often I mock them behind their back stating, "I am not a Lord, looking over the hills and non-existent Valleys of Garland, surveying my landscape and standing noble on a horse," to which they respond, "It's just an expression."
"It's just bullshit," I retort.
On most days I lay on my futon mattress and read poetry, Edna St. Vincent Millay is one of my favorites, especially her poem, "Love is not All." Millay states, "Love is not all. It is not meat, nor drink” (Millay 1-2).
Millay states that the feeling of love, though not substantive, still feeds the human soul, even if lost. She also states I would not sell your love, even if it isn't mine, and I'm in agreement with her. This thing that has torn apart my insides is like a fire, and now, I have been scared of it too long.
Speaking of selling, here are some things I probably should sell.
The house I live in is on Duffy Street in Garland Texas, and I’m told by my excited neighbor is that Garland is the model they use for Arlen in “King of the Hill.”
My neighbor’s name is Doughtry, and I smile as he sits on his lawnmower, a beer in his hand, and he wipes the sweat off his bald head.
Sometimes, I wonder if he knows, there is a singer named Doughtry, or is he actually the character from King of the hill, Bill Doughtry or is it Dautreux, whatever the case, he is 56 and has lived in Garland all his life—his wife left him in 1997, and I left the woman who I thought would be my wife about 5 weeks ago.
Bill is far from a stickler about where he throws his beer cans, so when he goes inside, I pick them up. Thus far, my days are a continued run of doing exactly what I want, and eating what I want. My roommates drink quite a bit—lapsed in their own comatose sadness, but thus far, I have only rarely felt like crying.
Each day is the same, Bill drinks, I mope, and each day we both start over.
Fig 1. Example. "Won't Go Quietly." (Example).
6.
"Can't see the end of this or who survives / It's just another case of do or die." --Example. "Won't Go Quietly.
I compare my life constantly to my dub-step regiment of music. So, let me make this clear, there are a lot of metaphors here. It seemed quite clear that I would forget my ex-girlfriend after a while when I started dating, six months down the road. This video reads two ways--for the longest time, I felt guilty even looking at another woman, after my break-up, and low and behold, from time time my ex would insert herself into my business, as if it were her businesss, when it was none of her concern at all.
When I heard the lyrics "She's the current running through my veins" I knew that was the metaphor for my ex. (Example, "Won't Go Quietly"). Her ghost exists in all I do. This video speaks to me on so many levels, because its unclear if it is the male's thoughts on the situation or the females. The male is the one talking about how he willingly goes back to her, but it is the female who wakes in terror at the thought of being ignored.
For at least a year :"H" was like a current running within me. Whether it was guilt or fear or insecurity, I told myself I might go back to her. For a while I harbored the idea I might reconcile with her. This was a very brief notion, but my break-up with her was not simple--it was complex, and even sometimes at my most bitter state, I cared about her--foolishly.
The funny thing about current is that Electricity also kills, and her memory, ghost or image usually killed any chance I ever had with a female, killing my confidence in the process. Sometimes I find it hillarious that the girl in the video finds herself in the middle of the mosh pit, being shoved around by the same people she was earlier bullying.
Things at the house were also troubling. My roomates encouraged me to have one night stands. They encouraged me to go after girls, all the while shaking their heads and saying behind my back that I was "not ready."
There's a finite art to recovering from a breakup. Sometimes I felt like my roommates would rather I drank so much I simply ignored lingering concerns inside of me.
The video "Flashing Lights" resonates in my head from time to time, with the two girls drinking. Before the one girl can even have a moment to think about things, the other girl shoves a drink down her throat.
That is what it felt like in the house sometimes.
They are "effing" tired to hearing about my ex. Some days, I am with them, and woe be to anyone woman who is with me for five seconds, because I will bring her up as usual and there will go any chance I remotely had of meeting someone. There are times I dream about being with her--I wake up screaming because I haven't lost her--we're still together.
She deigns to email me from time to time, and I delete them, though sometimes, I open then and find she has something of mine she wants to give back: my soul, my genitalia, my dignity, the last year--any of these things would be wonderful, but mostly she meets me, with a popsicle stick and a lecture.
"You dropped this on the floor a while back, and I thought you'd want it."
What I wanted most were several things she hasn't been able to locate.
My bed--my grandmother's china--my confidence.
"I found one of your childish toys yesterday. I threw it away."
Bitch.
7.
"I got a couple of skeletons in my closet. I got a couple skeletons in my head. Couple Skeletons in my wallet. Couple Skeletons in my bed." --Example "Midnight Run."
For 8 months I spent every Sunday and Saturday taking care of her child. Once I asked H's mother could she take her grand daughter while I went and hung out with my friends.
The child occasionally sleeps over at her house, but her mother met my eyes with her cold stare and asked. "So you'll be back at 9 p.m.?" It was already 7, and I had wanted to spend most of the evening with them.
"Ya see it's seven o'clock now, and..."
"So 10?" she responded.
She was not going to allow me until morning. Her daughter could of course ask her on a moments notice and get anything she wanted, but I wanted a little peace with my friends, and it was unthinkable. Eventually, I told her 10 and returned at 10 a.m, saying I misunderstood her--the truth is I understood her fine.
After dropping the child off I would get in my car and drive. All I wanted was to put so much distance between the house and me. What happened at that time period, was that like example stated, I was making the midnight run, and in the process becoming a different person. The truth was, my hands shook completely as I drove, wondering if I would turn back at all, wondering if the road would somehow stretch on beyond me, and into infinity. The real truth is that I knew that was not the person I was, nor could I abandon a child that in some ways, I started to regard as my only chance for fatherhood. So many people had stated that she looked like she could have been my own.
That hurt the most from time to time, and I started thinking of ways to stay even though it was painful. The hard truth is I began to harden into someone I wasn't sure was "Actually me" and "I thought more about having an affair" rather that doing the right thing and simply breaking up with her.
Watching Example's "Midnight Run" video over and over, all I could think about was the imagery. This was me--I would escape to the bathroom, stare in the mirror, and watch as the water rolled down and around, circling the dark drain.
Time to time, I would forget that she was not in my life--surely she must be just within reach, a ghostly apparition on the edge of my eyesight--in the corner of my eye, but no--she was gone.
All the lyrics from "Midnight Run" rang in my ears, including the lyrics. "All the things you said you didn't like / were helping me get high as a kite" (Example).
All I could think of was how she wanted me to give up things that brought me joy, and that I would do them, whimper and wonder if she was going to sacrifice anything for me.
"On another midnight run. / Sniffing for trouble keeping some" (Example, "Midnight Run"). Everytime, I heard these lyrics I wondered if Example was saying. "key for some" or "keeping some," but I knew in my heart that it didn't matter, there was nothing in our relationship that was remotely alive anymore, and I had become the safe bet (Example, "Midnight Run").
All I craved was to make the "midnight run," and all I wanted to do was lie to her, get to my car, so I could be alive again, and away from her. All I kept seeing was him leaving his car with a crowbar, symbolically to dismantle the memory of him and her, and all I kept seeing was myself "dismantling" her.
Fig. 8. The face of pain. Example. "Midnight Run." (Example.)
8. “All the Things you hate I find fun. /
Things you want to see are just done.” -- Example, “Midnight Run.”
“You are always behind,” She said, dropping the sacks on the table, “We’re having guests, so change that stupid shirt and pants and put on the new shirt I bought you.”
“It’s 9 o’clock, and I got home at six and you didn’t tell me we we would eat with your deuschey friends.”
Harris, Calvin. "Feel So Close." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 14. July. 2011. Web. 5 August.
-----2014.
Ora, Rita. "Hot Right Now." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 14. Dec 2011. Web. 5 August. 2014.
Sheeran, Ed. "You Need Me I Don't Need You." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 19. July 2011.
-------Web. 5 August. 2014
Obsessions will exist over PlayStation, Burgers, beautiful women (and who is the most beautiful) sexual positions, rank humor, abundant flatulence, and general depression.
Ideal for college student, or someone who has lived in their parent’s basement for years on end-this will literally be the most interesting time of your life, and you will laugh and cry experiencing the full range of human emotions.
Fig 2. "Flashing Lights." Video by Chase and Status. (Chase).
2.
Shopping List
One bed
One room
One McDonald’s hamburger
One order of small fries
One bookshelf
One warm blanket
One pillow
One walk in the park
One television
One sunset
One sunrise
One Sunday morning
sleep in until noon.
One Nerf gun with extra Nerf darts
One toothbrush
One tube of toothpaste
One tube of toothpaste
One bar of soap
One bottle of cologne
One candy bar
One window with a view
One stiff drink
One or two moments when you rage for a bit before calming down.
One box of tissues
One or two moments when you rage for a bit before calming down.
One box of tissues
One friend to listen
One day without the phone
One moment with the strength to lift my hands above my head triumphantly.
One renewed spark inside your heart and belly.
One moment with the strength to lift my hands above my head triumphantly.
One renewed spark inside your heart and belly.
There’s an edge to music that is produced by English artists, which is different from that produced in the states-- for one thing. it moves me to an aggressive and active enthusiasm, that few others do.
English Dub-step is life affirming, to the point that it needs no reason to be life affirming.
Its beats are visceral in their tempo. Its lyrics have harmonious hooks that catch like lures on the skin to adjust the listeners’ posture.
In truth I was raised on a diet of country music, bad rap, and the Beatles, and though something can be said for the Beatles, it might be as easy as comparing apples to oranges—current music in the UK makes me want to rip the orange open, devour it and let the juice dribble down my chin.
One can occasionally see the in roads that British MC’s have dropped on unsuspecting states.
Producer Calvin Harris’ Electronica themed music enhanced Rihanna’s “Love in a Hopeless Place.” His visuals and musical interludes sound like a man making the electronics cry out for mercy as he puts the harmony through a P90X workout--and he doesn't let the music rest until he is ready.
Harris's own singing is sultry and slightly upbeat, and his videos show people with dreams, struggling against the notion of mediocrity, and alive, dancing and loving in the most barren and mundane ruins. The current of brotherly connection moves through the dilapidated rodeo cowboy, the girl abandoned at the truck stop, the blonde child living in what I can only assume are slums, and the young men and women who have gone out to the woods to live, and love one another. Muscular defiance wins out, and acts of destructive and affirmation roll through this. Garbage is transformed into art-piles of napkins dance in the wind. Litter and garbage are thrown triumphantly--both acted upon and expelled. Graffiti is sprayed on lifeless rock. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of needless and needful sex. In every instance life forces itself forward amidst a vast landscape of open distance and nothing.
All of them, though separated in time and space are connected by a charge of life, a spark that has renewed them and the human condition is as "Close" as it has ever been despite any looming depression of judgement.
Producer Calvin Harris’ Electronica themed music enhanced Rihanna’s “Love in a Hopeless Place.” His visuals and musical interludes sound like a man making the electronics cry out for mercy as he puts the harmony through a P90X workout--and he doesn't let the music rest until he is ready.
Harris's own singing is sultry and slightly upbeat, and his videos show people with dreams, struggling against the notion of mediocrity, and alive, dancing and loving in the most barren and mundane ruins. The current of brotherly connection moves through the dilapidated rodeo cowboy, the girl abandoned at the truck stop, the blonde child living in what I can only assume are slums, and the young men and women who have gone out to the woods to live, and love one another. Muscular defiance wins out, and acts of destructive and affirmation roll through this. Garbage is transformed into art-piles of napkins dance in the wind. Litter and garbage are thrown triumphantly--both acted upon and expelled. Graffiti is sprayed on lifeless rock. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of needless and needful sex. In every instance life forces itself forward amidst a vast landscape of open distance and nothing.
All of them, though separated in time and space are connected by a charge of life, a spark that has renewed them and the human condition is as "Close" as it has ever been despite any looming depression of judgement.
At the time I discovered Dubstep, I had been waiting for the bottom to fall out on my life--I expected it and believed my life would continue on a downward spiral, that I would lapse into a depressive codependence with alcohol or drugs. After moving in with my enthusiastic roommate, I had started a daily regiment of dub-step.
At the time, I moved in with him after a particularly swift and brutal breakup.
On my end, I had conceded many of my possessions in order to share a house with my ex-girlfriend. So, when my girlfriend dumped me, shortly after attending about a month of intensive therapy in Seattle, the woman who I thought was the love of my life, left me high and dry with a futon mattress, my books and my computer.
And at that time, apart from being painfully giddy, I found I was crying a lot. Among all the names I called myself, “Beginagain,” “Rebounder,” “ Captain Hindsight,” the phrase I kept returning to in all my time, was that this was going to be a new beginning for me, and even though I was several months from finding myself—dub-step gave me a “glimpse of what the future holds” (Sheeran).
Even then, with Dubstep behind me, I didn’t believe I would recover from the drop I had already taken, and which Sheeran assured me was ”just another day” (Sheeran).
I was waiting for the drop, which I feared would be a permanent fall.
On my end, I had conceded many of my possessions in order to share a house with my ex-girlfriend. So, when my girlfriend dumped me, shortly after attending about a month of intensive therapy in Seattle, the woman who I thought was the love of my life, left me high and dry with a futon mattress, my books and my computer.
And at that time, apart from being painfully giddy, I found I was crying a lot. Among all the names I called myself, “Beginagain,” “Rebounder,” “ Captain Hindsight,” the phrase I kept returning to in all my time, was that this was going to be a new beginning for me, and even though I was several months from finding myself—dub-step gave me a “glimpse of what the future holds” (Sheeran).
Even then, with Dubstep behind me, I didn’t believe I would recover from the drop I had already taken, and which Sheeran assured me was ”just another day” (Sheeran).
I was waiting for the drop, which I feared would be a permanent fall.
4.
"You know you're only in it cause its hot right now"--Rita Ora. "Hot Right Now."
My room-mate has shown me videos. One video takes my breath away. This girl with an angelic face dances in front of a computer screen, and she's just jamming out hard, while it appears the boy who she has been talking to via video chat is frustrated. His frustration has a little something to do, with his attitude. She ignores him, and for a moment, throws her hair back, just as the dub-step makes its drop. What follows is a complete moment of innervation, lights flash, snow falls, confetti explodes. The world becomes visceral and alive, and all he can do is watch her and frown like a whiny school boy.
Her body becomes the music, turning in it, as if the world has melted away and there is only the rhythm, sound and her dancing. For weeks, I have been the boy, but right now, when the song moves through me, i want to be the girl. She cannot be held or broken, her joy is energized on a subatomic level, and she has the fire inside her, and nothing will stop her.
And then I hear the words. "Back in control of my life" (Devolution). The song is my anthem. It is the strange, sacred truth of my situation. I am in control, and I have the fire. For a moment, I can hear Rita Ora say something else, but right now, I'm in the heat of the moment, and I want to let it go and go and never turn back.
5.
"Throw your hands up if you think you've got it. / Going crazy we've not even started."--Rita Ora. "Hot Right Now."
Dub-step continues to run through my head, even three months after the move in. Each day is a new day, filled with challenges. Sometimes I find myself like so many of the youthful people of the videos, lifting my hands up, or throwing my hands up simply enjoying myself, and then realize, I am still living in a one room cell, over a garage with no female in my life, other than the lovely Ms. Ora, who sneers at me mostly through the video screen. "Throw your hands in the air if you want it right now" (Ora). There's no doubt I want to be alive as the kids dancing on my screen who seem to be able to celebrate at a moments notice, but even prematurely throwing my hands in the air seems fake, but for now I guess you fake it until you make it.
There are many good days. There are many bad days. the music has helped me, but like Rita says, strongly, there's a limit to its power. Indeed what was yesterday and seemed cloud nine, has become fraught with problems. Sometimes, I'm strong enough to resist her emotional support, and with my roommate sending me new dub step to watch.
As I slowly rebuild my bank account, I realize that Ms. Ora is correct--there are too many up and down moments in my life to fully ignore and fail to learn from.
The truth is, my depression can still take hold in a moment's notice; I keep it at bay by staying busy.
The poster wall, by the way is filled only with the stuff that "won't be bringing me down" (Devolution).
Fig. 5. My room and the wall suitable for posters.
All over the walls are many things. Reciepts from failed dates. Pictures of life affirming ideas. Verses from poems. Trinkets. Charms. Notes from girls with phone numbers that sometimes I'm afraid to call because I believe I'll blow it. Piece after piece opens something new in me, building up like fire for kindling--at The Centre a place I went, they called it a vision board, which I transformed into a vision wall--each day something new goes up on it. Each day I refine my vision of the future, with both what I want and what I hope represents me. If you put a lot of hard work into something it becomes sacred, My vision board is sacred.
It’s 7 o'clock in my small room, about the size of an office. One closet.--one used mattress--one old desk, and below me a garage full of my old books, that I can’t fit into the room.
It’s been 3 months since I left her. What was first a smile that covered my face has now morphed into an explicable down turned frown, similar to the one grumpy cat wears on a constant basis.
My rent
is 300 dollars. My room has a walking
strip of about 3 feet, but 12 feet, and one of my bookshelves takes up a third
of the room. Rent is due on the first of
every month, no exceptions, and I am expected to throw in Twenty dollars for
groceries. My bank account has a
question mark in it, but at present my smile fluctuates between a half frown
and a half smile.
Thought I have several roommates who are at times hilarious, and energetic, they are not females. Whether or not I can be with a female again is something I question from time to time.
At times, I wonder if I'm completely damaged. Occasionally I tell my friends that I might have met someone--they return that with the words, "Oooooh, do you think you're ready?"
I resist the urge to scream at them. At times I wonder if I can date again normally without telegraphing the same mistakes that landed me here in Garland, to which at times, I have been labeled by all my old friends, the title James of Garland.
Often I mock them behind their back stating, "I am not a Lord, looking over the hills and non-existent Valleys of Garland, surveying my landscape and standing noble on a horse," to which they respond, "It's just an expression."
"It's just bullshit," I retort.
On most days I lay on my futon mattress and read poetry, Edna St. Vincent Millay is one of my favorites, especially her poem, "Love is not All." Millay states, "Love is not all. It is not meat, nor drink” (Millay 1-2).
Millay states that the feeling of love, though not substantive, still feeds the human soul, even if lost. She also states I would not sell your love, even if it isn't mine, and I'm in agreement with her. This thing that has torn apart my insides is like a fire, and now, I have been scared of it too long.
Speaking of selling, here are some things I probably should sell.
FOR SALE:
One carat and a half diamond ring.
Brown stone. Silver band.
Never taken out of the box--Make me an offer.
WANTED:
One friend-- must have patience and the ability to listen constantly. Must know that I will talk constantly and must
understand that healing process is going to take a good goddamn while. Must never mention my Ex's name.
The house I live in is on Duffy Street in Garland Texas, and I’m told by my excited neighbor is that Garland is the model they use for Arlen in “King of the Hill.”
My neighbor’s name is Doughtry, and I smile as he sits on his lawnmower, a beer in his hand, and he wipes the sweat off his bald head.
Sometimes, I wonder if he knows, there is a singer named Doughtry, or is he actually the character from King of the hill, Bill Doughtry or is it Dautreux, whatever the case, he is 56 and has lived in Garland all his life—his wife left him in 1997, and I left the woman who I thought would be my wife about 5 weeks ago.
Bill is far from a stickler about where he throws his beer cans, so when he goes inside, I pick them up. Thus far, my days are a continued run of doing exactly what I want, and eating what I want. My roommates drink quite a bit—lapsed in their own comatose sadness, but thus far, I have only rarely felt like crying.
Each day is the same, Bill drinks, I mope, and each day we both start over.
6.
"Can't see the end of this or who survives / It's just another case of do or die." --Example. "Won't Go Quietly.
I compare my life constantly to my dub-step regiment of music. So, let me make this clear, there are a lot of metaphors here. It seemed quite clear that I would forget my ex-girlfriend after a while when I started dating, six months down the road. This video reads two ways--for the longest time, I felt guilty even looking at another woman, after my break-up, and low and behold, from time time my ex would insert herself into my business, as if it were her businesss, when it was none of her concern at all.
When I heard the lyrics "She's the current running through my veins" I knew that was the metaphor for my ex. (Example, "Won't Go Quietly"). Her ghost exists in all I do. This video speaks to me on so many levels, because its unclear if it is the male's thoughts on the situation or the females. The male is the one talking about how he willingly goes back to her, but it is the female who wakes in terror at the thought of being ignored.
For at least a year :"H" was like a current running within me. Whether it was guilt or fear or insecurity, I told myself I might go back to her. For a while I harbored the idea I might reconcile with her. This was a very brief notion, but my break-up with her was not simple--it was complex, and even sometimes at my most bitter state, I cared about her--foolishly.
The funny thing about current is that Electricity also kills, and her memory, ghost or image usually killed any chance I ever had with a female, killing my confidence in the process. Sometimes I find it hillarious that the girl in the video finds herself in the middle of the mosh pit, being shoved around by the same people she was earlier bullying.
Things at the house were also troubling. My roomates encouraged me to have one night stands. They encouraged me to go after girls, all the while shaking their heads and saying behind my back that I was "not ready."
There's a finite art to recovering from a breakup. Sometimes I felt like my roommates would rather I drank so much I simply ignored lingering concerns inside of me.
The video "Flashing Lights" resonates in my head from time to time, with the two girls drinking. Before the one girl can even have a moment to think about things, the other girl shoves a drink down her throat.
That is what it felt like in the house sometimes.
They are "effing" tired to hearing about my ex. Some days, I am with them, and woe be to anyone woman who is with me for five seconds, because I will bring her up as usual and there will go any chance I remotely had of meeting someone. There are times I dream about being with her--I wake up screaming because I haven't lost her--we're still together.
She deigns to email me from time to time, and I delete them, though sometimes, I open then and find she has something of mine she wants to give back: my soul, my genitalia, my dignity, the last year--any of these things would be wonderful, but mostly she meets me, with a popsicle stick and a lecture.
"You dropped this on the floor a while back, and I thought you'd want it."
What I wanted most were several things she hasn't been able to locate.
My bed--my grandmother's china--my confidence.
"I found one of your childish toys yesterday. I threw it away."
Bitch.
7.
"I got a couple of skeletons in my closet. I got a couple skeletons in my head. Couple Skeletons in my wallet. Couple Skeletons in my bed." --Example "Midnight Run."
For 8 months I spent every Sunday and Saturday taking care of her child. Once I asked H's mother could she take her grand daughter while I went and hung out with my friends.
The child occasionally sleeps over at her house, but her mother met my eyes with her cold stare and asked. "So you'll be back at 9 p.m.?" It was already 7, and I had wanted to spend most of the evening with them.
"Ya see it's seven o'clock now, and..."
"So 10?" she responded.
She was not going to allow me until morning. Her daughter could of course ask her on a moments notice and get anything she wanted, but I wanted a little peace with my friends, and it was unthinkable. Eventually, I told her 10 and returned at 10 a.m, saying I misunderstood her--the truth is I understood her fine.
After dropping the child off I would get in my car and drive. All I wanted was to put so much distance between the house and me. What happened at that time period, was that like example stated, I was making the midnight run, and in the process becoming a different person. The truth was, my hands shook completely as I drove, wondering if I would turn back at all, wondering if the road would somehow stretch on beyond me, and into infinity. The real truth is that I knew that was not the person I was, nor could I abandon a child that in some ways, I started to regard as my only chance for fatherhood. So many people had stated that she looked like she could have been my own.
That hurt the most from time to time, and I started thinking of ways to stay even though it was painful. The hard truth is I began to harden into someone I wasn't sure was "Actually me" and "I thought more about having an affair" rather that doing the right thing and simply breaking up with her.
Watching Example's "Midnight Run" video over and over, all I could think about was the imagery. This was me--I would escape to the bathroom, stare in the mirror, and watch as the water rolled down and around, circling the dark drain.
Time to time, I would forget that she was not in my life--surely she must be just within reach, a ghostly apparition on the edge of my eyesight--in the corner of my eye, but no--she was gone.
All the lyrics from "Midnight Run" rang in my ears, including the lyrics. "All the things you said you didn't like / were helping me get high as a kite" (Example).
All I could think of was how she wanted me to give up things that brought me joy, and that I would do them, whimper and wonder if she was going to sacrifice anything for me.
"On another midnight run. / Sniffing for trouble keeping some" (Example, "Midnight Run"). Everytime, I heard these lyrics I wondered if Example was saying. "key for some" or "keeping some," but I knew in my heart that it didn't matter, there was nothing in our relationship that was remotely alive anymore, and I had become the safe bet (Example, "Midnight Run").
All I craved was to make the "midnight run," and all I wanted to do was lie to her, get to my car, so I could be alive again, and away from her. All I kept seeing was him leaving his car with a crowbar, symbolically to dismantle the memory of him and her, and all I kept seeing was myself "dismantling" her.
8. “All the Things you hate I find fun. /
Things you want to see are just done.” -- Example, “Midnight Run.”
At the dinner table, I am already
ready to leave. Your friends have
watched me for an hour, after an hour of taking care of her daughter, before putting
her to bed, when "H" decided we were having guests. She pushed through the door with a large
grocery sack in hand and stared at me.
“You are always behind,” She said, dropping the sacks on the table, “We’re having guests, so change that stupid shirt and pants and put on the new shirt I bought you.”
“It’s 9 o’clock, and I got home at six and you didn’t tell me we we would eat with your deuschey friends.”
“I deserve some fun and you never take
me anywhere,” She said, and then she looked at me, “Get dressed, or spend the
evening alone.”
The fact she claimed I never took her
anywhere was complete bulls—t. She knew
it too, but she wanted some kind of dinner party, and I had had to come home at
six, feed Amelie and then get her out of the tub and in bed. It didn’t matter to her that I had been
working since 8 a.m. and she had spent the morning in bed until noon, and her
afternoon at Starbucks.
"So, did you paint anything, or draw anything, because I wrote two articles, and two poems today for publication," I said.
"Poetry doesn't pay you know that." she said flippantly.
As I finish the last dish, I feel something burn in my gut, almost string of heat that seemed to move up to my chest, so I stumble for a minute, and bump one of the plates.
"Don't you dare break my china, idiot!"
I look at her for a moment and pure joy comes out of me as I say, "Dishes from Wal-mart aren't fine china and you are far from refined..." I say with a pure smile on my face, and the spark in my belly starts to feel warm.
"At least I'm not a failed artist." she says.
"Sitting at Starbucks where you used to work and whining about art you do not make does not, nor will it ever, make you an artist."
"So, did you paint anything, or draw anything, because I wrote two articles, and two poems today for publication," I said.
"Poetry doesn't pay you know that." she said flippantly.
As I finish the last dish, I feel something burn in my gut, almost string of heat that seemed to move up to my chest, so I stumble for a minute, and bump one of the plates.
"Don't you dare break my china, idiot!"
I look at her for a moment and pure joy comes out of me as I say, "Dishes from Wal-mart aren't fine china and you are far from refined..." I say with a pure smile on my face, and the spark in my belly starts to feel warm.
"At least I'm not a failed artist." she says.
"Sitting at Starbucks where you used to work and whining about art you do not make does not, nor will it ever, make you an artist."
So, there I was at the table, Bryson,
who she called “Brysypoo” affectionately, but somehow this made me want to
vomit every time she said it, and Bryce’s flavor of the week, some guy named
Vincent, who would probably empty Bryce’s bank account, steal his silverware,
and leave him a shell of a man was already drinking most of our good wine and
opening another bottle. It was almost
10:55 and I wanted to Watch Doctor Who, but the look on her face, curled into a
snarl.
“Stop being such a child.” She
said.
Fig.1 Ed Sheeran, "You need Me I Don't Need You." --Ed Sheeran
8.
"I can't, no, I won't hush, / I say the words that make you blush.
I'm gonna sing this now / Ow! Ow!"
At 2:00 o'clock on a Friday, I shove the last of my shirts into the car. For a moment I stare at the house, then get in the car and peel out in the drive way, leaving a long, dark permanent tire mark.
At this moment, my eyes are tearing up already, but I am laughing like a mad man, and for months I will pass this house on the way home and I would turn up Ed Sheeran's, "You need me I don't need you." on my CD player. Rocking out, I raise my hands up, concerned lifting them in celebration is premature, but I do it anyway. I feel like celebrating wildly, flailing around uncontrollably till I pass out from gidyness.
Leaving the house in a cloud of regular gas, and I look back into the back seat of my car where my pile of books are, and where all my journals are and I think I can write again. My plan is to write again, and become the artist I had put aside for a year.
I was going to be sleeping on a couch for about 2 months before I had money again, but I was going to write, and live, and read and do the things I had been afraid to do.
For her art was something she wanted to ignore, and when she couldn't produce she stifled me. But now I felt a returning rhythm, which was consuming me.
The heat inside me as already moving through me, already on its way through me in a fever pitch, and that spark was growing. There was definitely something strong and stirring inside me.
9.
"We got the fire, fire, fire / And we gonna let it burn."
It's November 3, when I wrap my arms around the girl of my dreams, who I affectionately call "Rocket."
It's Friday, and we sit on the bed next to each other--my hand softly tracing lines down her back. She whispers into my ears, "You're going to miss the part where Blue Beetle does something cool," she says.
"I don't care," I say before touching my nose against her cheek.
Around me , the room is filled with her drawings, and the new poem, I wrote her and the notes for some essay I have to finish my students, on Dub-step, which is taking a while.
Occasionally a heat grows in my chest, that used to burn in my stomach, and I scoop up my notepad.
"To be continued, "I say with a grin, and start to write the essence of the ad for the house I lived in a year ago.
"I remember that place, it was a shit-dump." she says.
"Language." I say.
"Pardon me, shit-hole." she says and the both of us laugh. My hands move over the paper, tracing the lines of memory with a pencil. "Get on my computer if you need to," she says, and I pull up the internet, move past a picture of us, and start to type on the keyboard.
"It's like you have this fire in you lately." she says.
"You have no idea, " I say. "It's lucky you're here to help me put it out. I suppressed it for too long."
She smiles, and for the rest of the night, she watches me as I burn the keys into words and life. "There's no sleeping now." (Goulding).
Chase and Status. "Flashing Lights." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 18 Nov. 2011. Web. 5 August
-----2014.
Devolution. "Good Love." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 4 August. 2011. Web. 5 August 2014.
Example. "Midnight Run." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 11. Oct. 2011 Web. 5 August. 2014.
--. "Stay Awake." You Tube. Ministry of Sound--Australia. 31 August. 2011. Web. 5 August.
----2014.
--. "Won't Go Quietly." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 11 Dec. 2009. Web. 5 August. 2014.
Golding, Ellie. "Burn." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 7 July. 2013. Web 5 August. 2014.
Fig.1 Ed Sheeran, "You need Me I Don't Need You." --Ed Sheeran
8.
"I can't, no, I won't hush, / I say the words that make you blush.
I'm gonna sing this now / Ow! Ow!"
At 2:00 o'clock on a Friday, I shove the last of my shirts into the car. For a moment I stare at the house, then get in the car and peel out in the drive way, leaving a long, dark permanent tire mark.
At this moment, my eyes are tearing up already, but I am laughing like a mad man, and for months I will pass this house on the way home and I would turn up Ed Sheeran's, "You need me I don't need you." on my CD player. Rocking out, I raise my hands up, concerned lifting them in celebration is premature, but I do it anyway. I feel like celebrating wildly, flailing around uncontrollably till I pass out from gidyness.
Leaving the house in a cloud of regular gas, and I look back into the back seat of my car where my pile of books are, and where all my journals are and I think I can write again. My plan is to write again, and become the artist I had put aside for a year.
I was going to be sleeping on a couch for about 2 months before I had money again, but I was going to write, and live, and read and do the things I had been afraid to do.
For her art was something she wanted to ignore, and when she couldn't produce she stifled me. But now I felt a returning rhythm, which was consuming me.
The heat inside me as already moving through me, already on its way through me in a fever pitch, and that spark was growing. There was definitely something strong and stirring inside me.
9.
"We got the fire, fire, fire / And we gonna let it burn."
It's November 3, when I wrap my arms around the girl of my dreams, who I affectionately call "Rocket."
It's Friday, and we sit on the bed next to each other--my hand softly tracing lines down her back. She whispers into my ears, "You're going to miss the part where Blue Beetle does something cool," she says.
"I don't care," I say before touching my nose against her cheek.
Around me , the room is filled with her drawings, and the new poem, I wrote her and the notes for some essay I have to finish my students, on Dub-step, which is taking a while.
Occasionally a heat grows in my chest, that used to burn in my stomach, and I scoop up my notepad.
"To be continued, "I say with a grin, and start to write the essence of the ad for the house I lived in a year ago.
"I remember that place, it was a shit-dump." she says.
"Language." I say.
"Pardon me, shit-hole." she says and the both of us laugh. My hands move over the paper, tracing the lines of memory with a pencil. "Get on my computer if you need to," she says, and I pull up the internet, move past a picture of us, and start to type on the keyboard.
"It's like you have this fire in you lately." she says.
"You have no idea, " I say. "It's lucky you're here to help me put it out. I suppressed it for too long."
She smiles, and for the rest of the night, she watches me as I burn the keys into words and life. "There's no sleeping now." (Goulding).
Works Cited
Chase and Status. "Flashing Lights." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 18 Nov. 2011. Web. 5 August
-----2014.
Devolution. "Good Love." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 4 August. 2011. Web. 5 August 2014.
Example. "Midnight Run." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 11. Oct. 2011 Web. 5 August. 2014.
--. "Stay Awake." You Tube. Ministry of Sound--Australia. 31 August. 2011. Web. 5 August.
----2014.
--. "Won't Go Quietly." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 11 Dec. 2009. Web. 5 August. 2014.
Harris, Calvin. "Feel So Close." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 14. July. 2011. Web. 5 August.
-----2014.
Ora, Rita. "Hot Right Now." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 14. Dec 2011. Web. 5 August. 2014.
Sheeran, Ed. "You Need Me I Don't Need You." You Tube. Ministry of Sound. 19. July 2011.
-------Web. 5 August. 2014
