Nashville,
You send me cheesy love songs that you hear at work because they remind you of me. I don't like cheesy music, but I like when you send me these songs.
I should rid my life of the other lovers and just keep you.
But you are so far away. And we are too scared.
:(
Red
Friday, November 14, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Lady in the Dark
I wonder what makes songs sound pretty to people. Some songs are pretty to some people and some songs are pretty to other people. Like people for people. Some people are pretty to some people and some people are pretty to other people.
Is it just chemistry? Does chemistry work with songs too?
"I don't remember where all this was going
now that days get closer and we get farther apart
but its hard to wake from these beds we make
all on our own
its easier just to keep living in the dark."
--Patrick Park
Maybe its the swing in the rhythm, or the natural, dirty sound of his voice, the prominence of it amongst the rest of the recording, like red paint on a black canvas. I probably love it because of its natural, soulful feel, nothing artificial. Then there are the lyrics. Which speak to almost every part of my stir crazy life. And the words ring true as words I know Dean felt close to at the end of us.
Of course the record was given to me by him...one of the many remnants of him.
It is easy to live in the dark. I think I pick dark to light pretty often. I am doing that with Justin. My Nashville lover. I mean we look to each other with such hope, like we are truly connected on some level. And I suppose we are, but do we even really know each other and in reality would it ever really work? No. That is the answer, but it's easier to hold onto the lie then face the truth. That without holding on to the feelings we imagine we would be alone. Utterly.
So we live in the dark, across states that live as boundaries to protect our hearts from getting bruised.
Is it just chemistry? Does chemistry work with songs too?
"I don't remember where all this was going
now that days get closer and we get farther apart
but its hard to wake from these beds we make
all on our own
its easier just to keep living in the dark."
--Patrick Park
Maybe its the swing in the rhythm, or the natural, dirty sound of his voice, the prominence of it amongst the rest of the recording, like red paint on a black canvas. I probably love it because of its natural, soulful feel, nothing artificial. Then there are the lyrics. Which speak to almost every part of my stir crazy life. And the words ring true as words I know Dean felt close to at the end of us.
Of course the record was given to me by him...one of the many remnants of him.
It is easy to live in the dark. I think I pick dark to light pretty often. I am doing that with Justin. My Nashville lover. I mean we look to each other with such hope, like we are truly connected on some level. And I suppose we are, but do we even really know each other and in reality would it ever really work? No. That is the answer, but it's easier to hold onto the lie then face the truth. That without holding on to the feelings we imagine we would be alone. Utterly.
So we live in the dark, across states that live as boundaries to protect our hearts from getting bruised.
Lipstick Jungle....
Is being taken off the air!
Why do all things come to an end!!!!
Lordie. A show about powerful women and it can not last even two seasons....The strike last year was such a tease with these new shows they pulled out of the woodworks and are now swiping off the air.
Blasted Network Television.
NOW WHAT WILL I DVR TO DISTRACT ME.
May have to just pay attention to my actual life.
Why do all things come to an end!!!!
Lordie. A show about powerful women and it can not last even two seasons....The strike last year was such a tease with these new shows they pulled out of the woodworks and are now swiping off the air.
Blasted Network Television.
NOW WHAT WILL I DVR TO DISTRACT ME.
May have to just pay attention to my actual life.
Even Still, Even Now
Dear Dean,
Nicole thinks we should make a movie about our lives. She thinks we should make it even dirtier then our lives are. He said, she said, he fucked, she fucked, they fucked. Everyone fucked....over. She and I laugh about it, but its really not that funny.
We e mailed today. I mustered it up. I asked you how you were. I pretend not to care, but I do. You write back and the humour punches through and I am drawn in, even just the tiniest bit. And the conversation persists, even via e mail. I can tell you miss me too. We live with hatred on our faces and hearts off our sleeves for now, but I know deep down you care, I care.
And I can't wrap my head around how spiteful we both are. Spiteful is your word. I stole it.
When your mother came, it just did not feel right to spend all that time with her. So I ditched. I felt like fucking you over, cause you fucked me over. And I could not see past it. So I hurt you. I guess deep down I might have known what I was doing, no matter how much chatter I can do to talk myself out of it. I did not want to come through for you. You didn't come through for me and you turn at the switch of a light on the people you love most. So I tried it.
I still feel badly. She may have made you who you are, but she did not deserve to be played by default.
Oh well. It certainly cut you off didn't it. And then with one line, "how are you?" The can is opened, the curtain falls.
I never though my greatest effort would be put on pushing you away.
I wish I could trace our end back to the beginning and figure out where we lost our footing. Are you just the sociopath I have turned you into in my mind? Or is it normal? Are we just both at fault? Both just bad communicators who could not fight through the stubborness? I guess I will never know.
I do wonder when I will stop wondering.
It happened again. I dreamt about you while I was sleeping next to Andrew two nights ago. I mean, he does live as the perfect distraction, but I still dream about you when I am sleeping.
Not good dreams, don't get me wrong. But you are there. Even when I close my eyes.
Even Still, Even Now.
xx
D
Nicole thinks we should make a movie about our lives. She thinks we should make it even dirtier then our lives are. He said, she said, he fucked, she fucked, they fucked. Everyone fucked....over. She and I laugh about it, but its really not that funny.
We e mailed today. I mustered it up. I asked you how you were. I pretend not to care, but I do. You write back and the humour punches through and I am drawn in, even just the tiniest bit. And the conversation persists, even via e mail. I can tell you miss me too. We live with hatred on our faces and hearts off our sleeves for now, but I know deep down you care, I care.
And I can't wrap my head around how spiteful we both are. Spiteful is your word. I stole it.
When your mother came, it just did not feel right to spend all that time with her. So I ditched. I felt like fucking you over, cause you fucked me over. And I could not see past it. So I hurt you. I guess deep down I might have known what I was doing, no matter how much chatter I can do to talk myself out of it. I did not want to come through for you. You didn't come through for me and you turn at the switch of a light on the people you love most. So I tried it.
I still feel badly. She may have made you who you are, but she did not deserve to be played by default.
Oh well. It certainly cut you off didn't it. And then with one line, "how are you?" The can is opened, the curtain falls.
I never though my greatest effort would be put on pushing you away.
I wish I could trace our end back to the beginning and figure out where we lost our footing. Are you just the sociopath I have turned you into in my mind? Or is it normal? Are we just both at fault? Both just bad communicators who could not fight through the stubborness? I guess I will never know.
I do wonder when I will stop wondering.
It happened again. I dreamt about you while I was sleeping next to Andrew two nights ago. I mean, he does live as the perfect distraction, but I still dream about you when I am sleeping.
Not good dreams, don't get me wrong. But you are there. Even when I close my eyes.
Even Still, Even Now.
xx
D
Monday, November 10, 2008
Andrew, the neighbor lover who killed the bug....
Andrew, the neighbor, is also helping me kill you. Not literally of course. But he sure is helping me kill the memory.
Andrew does not just kill bugs.
He does not just walk my dog.
He does not just break into my apartment for me when I am locked out and my keys and dogs are locked in.
"You like the Avett Brothers?" he said.
"I didn't, but I do now, my ex got me into them," I replied. With the word ex, my mouth dried.
He could tell and said, "well, ex's are good for something aren't they?"
His eyes unlocked mine.
I guess so, I mean ex's are usually good for losing about 10 pounds, girl can't complain. But they leave more behind, music, books, boxers (you know the ones you adapt into your pajama pile and just ignore the fact that his body wore them once, or relish in it). Baggage claims worth of baggage.
And then someone unpacks it all. Eventually. Not necessarily a new love, sometimes just a friend, sometimes just a movie that makes you cry a little, or laugh a little. Sometimes a long walk.
Sometimes a neighbor.
Andrew loved me that night and a few nights post. He also saw me puke up all my happiness the night Obama made history (champagne, beer, wine, vodka: a sorry mix). He has a hole in his heart too. I can tell. He speaks of the perptrator sometimes. But mostly I speak of mine. He listens and then he holds me and loves me again.
Or puts the act on. It feels good, but it's not misleading.
Yes, it might get sticky. Scratch that. It WILL get sticky. But I don't care.
He is mending me a little every day.
Andrew does not just kill bugs.
He does not just walk my dog.
He does not just break into my apartment for me when I am locked out and my keys and dogs are locked in.
"You like the Avett Brothers?" he said.
"I didn't, but I do now, my ex got me into them," I replied. With the word ex, my mouth dried.
He could tell and said, "well, ex's are good for something aren't they?"
His eyes unlocked mine.
I guess so, I mean ex's are usually good for losing about 10 pounds, girl can't complain. But they leave more behind, music, books, boxers (you know the ones you adapt into your pajama pile and just ignore the fact that his body wore them once, or relish in it). Baggage claims worth of baggage.
And then someone unpacks it all. Eventually. Not necessarily a new love, sometimes just a friend, sometimes just a movie that makes you cry a little, or laugh a little. Sometimes a long walk.
Sometimes a neighbor.
Andrew loved me that night and a few nights post. He also saw me puke up all my happiness the night Obama made history (champagne, beer, wine, vodka: a sorry mix). He has a hole in his heart too. I can tell. He speaks of the perptrator sometimes. But mostly I speak of mine. He listens and then he holds me and loves me again.
Or puts the act on. It feels good, but it's not misleading.
Yes, it might get sticky. Scratch that. It WILL get sticky. But I don't care.
He is mending me a little every day.
A New Tattoo
I saw a picture of your new tattoo on someone else's facebook profile. It looks really good.
Why am I so addicted to someone so mean? Maybe because in pictures your bite doesn't look so brutal. Maybe because the memory I have is hazy. Maybe because through the dark your light still peaks through and I miss you.
Why in your photos on that bloody site do you have a picture of her and not of me? Why are you 30 going on 13?
I am sure you still remember us. Maybe just a picture left embedded in your mind and not on a social networking site.
I remember you. And I remember, or am reminded of, the pain and nausea I felt every time you did something to turn the knife.
But I also want to hug you.
Even though I have so many other people to hug, I still just want to hug you.
"hug" you.
Why am I so addicted to someone so mean? Maybe because in pictures your bite doesn't look so brutal. Maybe because the memory I have is hazy. Maybe because through the dark your light still peaks through and I miss you.
Why in your photos on that bloody site do you have a picture of her and not of me? Why are you 30 going on 13?
I am sure you still remember us. Maybe just a picture left embedded in your mind and not on a social networking site.
I remember you. And I remember, or am reminded of, the pain and nausea I felt every time you did something to turn the knife.
But I also want to hug you.
Even though I have so many other people to hug, I still just want to hug you.
"hug" you.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Never Again
In a way Obama's win will sheild the world from past experience. His win will change things for good. Even if it is just perspective. I walk the streets with a higher head and I know that there are others who have been lifted even higher out of their gutter. This alone will change our country forever. Equality, pride for those who never felt the right to feel it before.
For me, of course, bye bye to Bush and bye bye to high tax on the middle class makes me smile. The idea that Republicans will not dominate and that Democrats will, with notions of human equality, religion separate of state, womens rights, respect for those of all income brackets, and simply a stronger perception in the eyes of our neighboring countries is what made my decision for me.
But what moved me the most when I watched that Blue sign light up, with Barack's name flashing, was the thought that for 200 years Black people in this country have been persecuted, one way or another, persecuted, lowered, separated. And with each step they have fought for a difference, and changes have been made. This was the end though, this was the biggest change of all for the Black people of our country. Because it changed perspective entirely for all people watching.
This is what gave me hope, just to know, people have changed enough to open up to something new, surface and deep down.
Hooray for change.
For me, of course, bye bye to Bush and bye bye to high tax on the middle class makes me smile. The idea that Republicans will not dominate and that Democrats will, with notions of human equality, religion separate of state, womens rights, respect for those of all income brackets, and simply a stronger perception in the eyes of our neighboring countries is what made my decision for me.
But what moved me the most when I watched that Blue sign light up, with Barack's name flashing, was the thought that for 200 years Black people in this country have been persecuted, one way or another, persecuted, lowered, separated. And with each step they have fought for a difference, and changes have been made. This was the end though, this was the biggest change of all for the Black people of our country. Because it changed perspective entirely for all people watching.
This is what gave me hope, just to know, people have changed enough to open up to something new, surface and deep down.
Hooray for change.
Hey Babe.
My stomach still drops a little when I hear you say "hey babe." It's been years, but you still live deep down under my covers. Of course I have put on layers to protect. Stone, blood, skin, t shirts, sweaters, coats, but you peak through.
Maybe you were the last one I loved. Though I have had love since. Maybe you were the only one I loved?
Maybe I still love you sometimes.
It doesn't matter, I mean, you are gone now and we know each other in a new way, like it never happened. But it did.
It was lovely. When you wrap your arms around me, that's when I recall.
Do you?
Maybe you were the last one I loved. Though I have had love since. Maybe you were the only one I loved?
Maybe I still love you sometimes.
It doesn't matter, I mean, you are gone now and we know each other in a new way, like it never happened. But it did.
It was lovely. When you wrap your arms around me, that's when I recall.
Do you?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
how can you mend a broken heart?
Why do hearts even have to break at all? And why is the opposite of love, hate? How do love and hate always manage to meet each other at the border and then make the transfer?
Tonight I saw Dean and it was the first moment after a hard break up where you suddenly forget who that person was to you at one point. Past love, past hatred all the way to indifference. Not Utter indifference, but the first hint of it. Our existences just did not influence each other. Someone who once held me and who I held back.
For the most part we fought, I won't deny that, but we held on for a year. Were we just being selfish? Were we just up for the challenge, or did we love each other? What is love if it can end in such a spiteful way? Addiction I suppose. Ease with one another. Reluctance to give up. Narcissism at its height.
The thing is there is no end in sight for me now. I just don't even see the possibility that I will ever settle down. Have never had such bad luck with finding a connection then I am having now and also never been so obsessed with it, which I am sure is the problem.
I just really don't have much to give and that means there will be little for someone to take. So I just feel like there is no point. And one would think that would feel like a relief, yet trying NOT to get involved with people is at the forefront of my mind.
WTF? I just want a break from life.
In other news, cute, new neighbor, just killed a big, ugly bug for me. I think I'm in love.
Thank you, Andrew....
xx, Red Out Loud
Tonight I saw Dean and it was the first moment after a hard break up where you suddenly forget who that person was to you at one point. Past love, past hatred all the way to indifference. Not Utter indifference, but the first hint of it. Our existences just did not influence each other. Someone who once held me and who I held back.
For the most part we fought, I won't deny that, but we held on for a year. Were we just being selfish? Were we just up for the challenge, or did we love each other? What is love if it can end in such a spiteful way? Addiction I suppose. Ease with one another. Reluctance to give up. Narcissism at its height.
The thing is there is no end in sight for me now. I just don't even see the possibility that I will ever settle down. Have never had such bad luck with finding a connection then I am having now and also never been so obsessed with it, which I am sure is the problem.
I just really don't have much to give and that means there will be little for someone to take. So I just feel like there is no point. And one would think that would feel like a relief, yet trying NOT to get involved with people is at the forefront of my mind.
WTF? I just want a break from life.
In other news, cute, new neighbor, just killed a big, ugly bug for me. I think I'm in love.
Thank you, Andrew....
xx, Red Out Loud
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
I am a stalker.
I am a procrastinator.
I am a little bit lonely.
I am a little bit bored.
I wonder what he is showing off in paris. His art? His other woman? She is not much to show off. I am not being mean, I am just being honest. I found a pic on facebook.
Facebook is the bane of my existence. I should be e mailing managers and artists for hi res photos. I should be sending out e mails to listings editors and making sure my shows are getting listed. I should be finding a band to place with Jay Nash on November 24th.
I am doing none of these things.
I am just sitting here listening to a great record and wondering what he is doing in Paris. The balding, jewish, creative artist. I used to cry a little when we did it. I have no idea why. I guess I really did like him. I pretended not to. Maybe that is what went wrong. Or maybe he just did not like me like that.
What is the point of casual? Why is that what everyone wants with me. Casual. I am so not casual. Last night I accidentally, casually, spent the night in my friend Derek's bed. Oops. If my ex knew he would die. That is probably why I did it. It was worthwhile, I will say that.
Nashville comes to New York in a month. I am excited. I love to love and be loved. But I pretend I like to be single. I don't. I am just tired of all the effort, I guess that is why it is easy to keep my heart invested in something that is so far away. Minimal effort, minimal chance for heartbreak.
I don't think my heart could handle another crack. It is getting really unshapely at this point.
I miss singing songs.
x,
ROL
I am a procrastinator.
I am a little bit lonely.
I am a little bit bored.
I wonder what he is showing off in paris. His art? His other woman? She is not much to show off. I am not being mean, I am just being honest. I found a pic on facebook.
Facebook is the bane of my existence. I should be e mailing managers and artists for hi res photos. I should be sending out e mails to listings editors and making sure my shows are getting listed. I should be finding a band to place with Jay Nash on November 24th.
I am doing none of these things.
I am just sitting here listening to a great record and wondering what he is doing in Paris. The balding, jewish, creative artist. I used to cry a little when we did it. I have no idea why. I guess I really did like him. I pretended not to. Maybe that is what went wrong. Or maybe he just did not like me like that.
What is the point of casual? Why is that what everyone wants with me. Casual. I am so not casual. Last night I accidentally, casually, spent the night in my friend Derek's bed. Oops. If my ex knew he would die. That is probably why I did it. It was worthwhile, I will say that.
Nashville comes to New York in a month. I am excited. I love to love and be loved. But I pretend I like to be single. I don't. I am just tired of all the effort, I guess that is why it is easy to keep my heart invested in something that is so far away. Minimal effort, minimal chance for heartbreak.
I don't think my heart could handle another crack. It is getting really unshapely at this point.
I miss singing songs.
x,
ROL
Monday, October 27, 2008
Follow Through
You never called me. Like you said you would, time and time again. Guess you really liked her better, though you didn't lay with me that way. Misleading is the name of you game. So you never called.
I wonder why you said you would. I mean, why bother, I guess, if it's not there, its not there, right? Why bother is a question I could ask myself as well I suppose. It is all just one big circle when it all comes down to it, after all. I mean I will likely not call the other him. It is just not worth it. Where would the fun be in consistency anyway.
What is it about our generation, we are all on a quest for something bigger and better. For the next big thing, a quest for awesomeness. Boredom is our most common nightmare, and we fight it. And then we walk alone. And we like it. Because alone, that can't possibly get boring.
It's just easier that way.
Tonight he explained regular was not for him, he wanted to spice it up some. My hot
neighbor's HOTTER brother. yummy. And the sexual tension raged between us. Yet we did not spice it up. Not even a little.
Though we did make a second date, if that is what it was....
We are going to the shooting range next Saturday.
And even though I love that I am sitting alone my bed now, hearing moaning from the apartment behind mine and Rosi Golan singing to me from my small computer speakers, the best part being that I am alone, I do wish one of the 3 "he's in this entry were next to me.
Fuck boring. A warm body is nicer then nobody.
At least it was.
It is only now that I realize the moaning was just Stuart snoring. Guess my next door neighbor is alone tonight too.
x, Red Out Loud
ps Stuart is my dog.
I wonder why you said you would. I mean, why bother, I guess, if it's not there, its not there, right? Why bother is a question I could ask myself as well I suppose. It is all just one big circle when it all comes down to it, after all. I mean I will likely not call the other him. It is just not worth it. Where would the fun be in consistency anyway.
What is it about our generation, we are all on a quest for something bigger and better. For the next big thing, a quest for awesomeness. Boredom is our most common nightmare, and we fight it. And then we walk alone. And we like it. Because alone, that can't possibly get boring.
It's just easier that way.
Tonight he explained regular was not for him, he wanted to spice it up some. My hot
neighbor's HOTTER brother. yummy. And the sexual tension raged between us. Yet we did not spice it up. Not even a little.
Though we did make a second date, if that is what it was....
We are going to the shooting range next Saturday.
And even though I love that I am sitting alone my bed now, hearing moaning from the apartment behind mine and Rosi Golan singing to me from my small computer speakers, the best part being that I am alone, I do wish one of the 3 "he's in this entry were next to me.
Fuck boring. A warm body is nicer then nobody.
At least it was.
It is only now that I realize the moaning was just Stuart snoring. Guess my next door neighbor is alone tonight too.
x, Red Out Loud
ps Stuart is my dog.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
the one that got away
He is on line now. I see him there, on my little g chat list. Just sitting there. A name. with no capital letters. He should IM me, I mean he did promise me dinner this week, drinks?
We never really broke up, not face to face, not in any important way. I guess that is about as good as he felt about it. Good enough to let me push him to dump me over the phone. It was a shame really. We had great chemistry. He was the perfect size. In every way. Yes, he was even of the right faith.
Not that he had any of it.
I don't know. Maybe I came on too strong. I am trying a new game. I am going to try to deal with the men I like the way I deal with the men I don't like. I am going to just cut off. I am not going to ask for anything from anyone and see what happens.
How does that work out? I mean people really want what they can't have. So some ladies learn to play games at a young age. "I will NOT show you I like you!" That is the mantra. It works! I watched my roomie Lindsay do it many times...
She is married.
All I have to say about that.
I don't know, I can't play games. I never win.
I miss the one that got away, we could have worked, had he given it a chance. I am sure we could have.
Shame.
Ok he signed off. Done distracting myself.
--Red Out Loud
We never really broke up, not face to face, not in any important way. I guess that is about as good as he felt about it. Good enough to let me push him to dump me over the phone. It was a shame really. We had great chemistry. He was the perfect size. In every way. Yes, he was even of the right faith.
Not that he had any of it.
I don't know. Maybe I came on too strong. I am trying a new game. I am going to try to deal with the men I like the way I deal with the men I don't like. I am going to just cut off. I am not going to ask for anything from anyone and see what happens.
How does that work out? I mean people really want what they can't have. So some ladies learn to play games at a young age. "I will NOT show you I like you!" That is the mantra. It works! I watched my roomie Lindsay do it many times...
She is married.
All I have to say about that.
I don't know, I can't play games. I never win.
I miss the one that got away, we could have worked, had he given it a chance. I am sure we could have.
Shame.
Ok he signed off. Done distracting myself.
--Red Out Loud
Monday, October 13, 2008
double life
It's like I live a double life. I fell in like in Nashville, with half Jew and came home and let the other half of the Jew sit by my side on Saturday night. I pretended he never hurt me, I pretended we could still love, live, lie. Lay not lie. Correction.
What makes me comfortable enough to let him in. Not all the way, but in.
Addiction.
It's no joke.
He lied. He lied well. Well enough to make me feel like I made him do it.
Live the double life.
Sleep with her and then me and then her again.
Then tell me he loves me, over and over.
And over.
When we met, I knew he was wrong, he was English, he was from the other side, he was not Jewish, or he was only accidentally Jewish. J.E.W.I.S.H. J.E.S.U.S.
I wonder how many times a day I say Jewish.
The high holidays came and went and I sat in Synagogue wondering why I still let HIM dominate. Him= God, Dean, Love, Need, Attention.
What is so wrong with being left alone. Being ALONE. Godless, loveless, sexless, friendless?
Ok, maybe not friendless....
I fasted. I did not get hungry at all. I did not think about my sins of the year prior, I know I will just commit them again, in one version or another. I did think it feels better to me not to eat then to eat. Which is sick.
My friend Katie died of complications with Anorexia this year. I wonder why she wanted to disappear.
And I am sort of jealous she did.
At least it was her choice.
I miss myself sometimes. Where did I go? I want to sing Barbra Streisand songs in Jamaica at the Piano Bar at the Beaches resort again, with a piano player named Ultimate. Like I did when I was 15. I was happy then.
THOSE were the days.
That was me.
That is another story.
I am not that girl anymore. I am a new version of me, living my double life. Who I wanted to be and I who I am.
What makes me comfortable enough to let him in. Not all the way, but in.
Addiction.
It's no joke.
He lied. He lied well. Well enough to make me feel like I made him do it.
Live the double life.
Sleep with her and then me and then her again.
Then tell me he loves me, over and over.
And over.
When we met, I knew he was wrong, he was English, he was from the other side, he was not Jewish, or he was only accidentally Jewish. J.E.W.I.S.H. J.E.S.U.S.
I wonder how many times a day I say Jewish.
The high holidays came and went and I sat in Synagogue wondering why I still let HIM dominate. Him= God, Dean, Love, Need, Attention.
What is so wrong with being left alone. Being ALONE. Godless, loveless, sexless, friendless?
Ok, maybe not friendless....
I fasted. I did not get hungry at all. I did not think about my sins of the year prior, I know I will just commit them again, in one version or another. I did think it feels better to me not to eat then to eat. Which is sick.
My friend Katie died of complications with Anorexia this year. I wonder why she wanted to disappear.
And I am sort of jealous she did.
At least it was her choice.
I miss myself sometimes. Where did I go? I want to sing Barbra Streisand songs in Jamaica at the Piano Bar at the Beaches resort again, with a piano player named Ultimate. Like I did when I was 15. I was happy then.
THOSE were the days.
That was me.
That is another story.
I am not that girl anymore. I am a new version of me, living my double life. Who I wanted to be and I who I am.
Shalom Y'all
Went to Nashville. Came back. New memories in tow. New love in the back of my mind. Love. Whatever that is. A jewish father, A catholic mother. Still not good enough. But just my luck. And still the sinking feeling that none of it really matters, but still holding out. For what?
Went to synagogue while in Nashville. Watched him play music for the masses as they iterated words they did not know the meaning of. Everybody needs a place to stand, to belong, to play, to fit in.
So we found god.
And now we are stuck here.
I look for god in man. I look to place faith in a human being.
It is easier to find god.
Shalom, y'all.
Went to synagogue while in Nashville. Watched him play music for the masses as they iterated words they did not know the meaning of. Everybody needs a place to stand, to belong, to play, to fit in.
So we found god.
And now we are stuck here.
I look for god in man. I look to place faith in a human being.
It is easier to find god.
Shalom, y'all.
Stay
I am always so wordy in this blog. I am tired of being wordy. It is boring. I am sitting here on my bed in my 1 bedroom apartment in the east village writing. about myself, what i want, what i wished for, what i wish for, what i have and what i don't have.
I HAVE a dog.
He is NOT mine.
I HAVE an apartment.
It's rented. NOT mine.
I HAVE a headache.
Too much booze, will be gone by tomorrow.
I HAVE Ray Lamontagne playing on my Itunes.
It keeps disappearing everytime I restart my computer.
I HAVE a voice.
Not the one I had last year.
Nothing is permanent.
I would LOVE to find something permanent.
Right now my plan is to sit here on my bed and wait for something permanent to find me.
I HAVE a dog.
He is NOT mine.
I HAVE an apartment.
It's rented. NOT mine.
I HAVE a headache.
Too much booze, will be gone by tomorrow.
I HAVE Ray Lamontagne playing on my Itunes.
It keeps disappearing everytime I restart my computer.
I HAVE a voice.
Not the one I had last year.
Nothing is permanent.
I would LOVE to find something permanent.
Right now my plan is to sit here on my bed and wait for something permanent to find me.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
when somebody leaves
...it's easy to think that it might be you.
--amber rubarth www.myspace.com/amberrubarth
--amber rubarth www.myspace.com/amberrubarth
hi!
Hi! Forever ago was the last I posted....and I am back. I am back. I am back. And I am not going to try and fill in the blanks here, let's start from scratch.
First off. Dean. Out of the picture. After all the religious back and forth, a nasty break up and the discovery that the last two months of our relationship had been spent in another woman's bed, I gave up. We parted ways on Rebel Spirit (which for the record, has become a GREAT success, sponsorship, national exposure, etc.) and have somehow managed good terms after months of spiteful hatred.
So.
I am single. Single and STILL Jewish ;) Still in love with music. Still. Me.
I read back over a few entries, about dean and I. How harsh, how strong I was with him. Not sure it was all a great thing to be that way. Not sure why I felt so comfortable trying to change someone. He did want it, too. Don't get me wrong. But I do see how it sent him running. To another. Girl. Younger. And on Gossip Girl.
GO FIGURE.
And no, I am not bitter. Because he writes me letters every day asking for me back. And while deep down I wish i could, yet again, jump in, I know its sealed and wrong.
And PLUS.
I've moved on ;)
xRed Out Loud
First off. Dean. Out of the picture. After all the religious back and forth, a nasty break up and the discovery that the last two months of our relationship had been spent in another woman's bed, I gave up. We parted ways on Rebel Spirit (which for the record, has become a GREAT success, sponsorship, national exposure, etc.) and have somehow managed good terms after months of spiteful hatred.
So.
I am single. Single and STILL Jewish ;) Still in love with music. Still. Me.
I read back over a few entries, about dean and I. How harsh, how strong I was with him. Not sure it was all a great thing to be that way. Not sure why I felt so comfortable trying to change someone. He did want it, too. Don't get me wrong. But I do see how it sent him running. To another. Girl. Younger. And on Gossip Girl.
GO FIGURE.
And no, I am not bitter. Because he writes me letters every day asking for me back. And while deep down I wish i could, yet again, jump in, I know its sealed and wrong.
And PLUS.
I've moved on ;)
xRed Out Loud
Thursday, February 14, 2008
almost 3 months later.....
Lord. I don't even know the last time I wrote to you all or to myself or to anyone for that matter. It has been a long time and I can not even remember the last item I ranted about. But man, I have missed it. I have missed you. I have missed me a bit.
My, my. What has happened. I have changed. My voice has returned after hard months of therapy and trying to get life back before my body was ready. It is strange when your b ody just cuts out on you and literally tells you to STOP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING.
My voice came back, edgy and stringy and strange. It was quiet, without power, people had to say, "what?" when I said something. That is RARE when you are Deena Goodman. RARE. It was painful, not physically, but emotionally. No control over a bodily function as necessary as speaking.
I got stronger, weaker, stronger. Got confident, went out, talked in loud rooms, sang here and there, regretted it, got tired, got sick and got healthy. I got my voice back.
I have it. It is in there. It is different and so am I.
To be continued.
ps Dean got me roses today- his first flower purchase ever. wow.
My, my. What has happened. I have changed. My voice has returned after hard months of therapy and trying to get life back before my body was ready. It is strange when your b ody just cuts out on you and literally tells you to STOP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING.
My voice came back, edgy and stringy and strange. It was quiet, without power, people had to say, "what?" when I said something. That is RARE when you are Deena Goodman. RARE. It was painful, not physically, but emotionally. No control over a bodily function as necessary as speaking.
I got stronger, weaker, stronger. Got confident, went out, talked in loud rooms, sang here and there, regretted it, got tired, got sick and got healthy. I got my voice back.
I have it. It is in there. It is different and so am I.
To be continued.
ps Dean got me roses today- his first flower purchase ever. wow.
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