Eternal Questions of My Reckless Mind....Part I

It was March 19, 2004.
It was a Sunday. Of that, I am sure.

I was living in Brooklyn with mice and a roommate. My financial situation was still teetering on survival. Although I was eating more than oatmeal and a third of a foot-long tuna sub by this time, the money was consistently never enough. I always had money for cigarettes though. Fags that I smoked with disdain but had nothing better with which to occupy my time. I was more than 20 pounds thinner than I stand today. I was hanging on to a one night stand for six weeks too long, just to keep someone around to like me. My cell phone had been disconnected for non-payment. Non-Payment that had my bill weighed and delivered in a box. I think I even had to sign for it. I got a temporary T-Mobile number while waiting and saving to pay off the disconnected phone. I had a Sunday hang over (slightly). It was late morning or probably early afternoon. Okay, I admit it was around 4:00 PM. I strapped on my rollerblades, locked my discman, and proceeded to blade the Brooklyn Bridge while listening to Frou Frou in hopes to bring some clarity to my thoughts and some peace to my angst ridden emotions.

I called Joely. She didn't pick up. I left a long winded message. (Surprise Surprise) I had so much to talk about. I had to tell her about things that happened the night before at the three parties I bounced to throughout the night. Specifically, the last party I attended at SWEET and VICIOUS on the lower east. I rollerbladed back over the bridge and into Brooklyn. I listened to "Only Got One" probably six or seven times. "...it's your life. ummhmm it's your life. and you've only got one....you've only got....." I tried Joely again. This time, no message. She would get the message without a message, that I had something to say.

Finally, somewhere on Fulton Street or Jay Street, I can't quite remember, she called. I answered. I have always felt it unsafe to rollerblade and use a cell phone. I stopped on a corner. I rattled off the course of my evening prior. Gave her the time line and all the necessary reference points. All the while, I was skating back and forth, round and round a three to five foot radius. It was starting to get cold. It was, after all, approaching 5:00 or 6:00 PM. I wasn't dressed for the weather. I was probably an idiot for being on my rollerblades in March in the first place. But, endorphins are supposed to make people happy, right?

I told her everything. I told her about the first party and how it was uneventful. That party was an obligatory appearance party. Quick in and quicker out. I told her about the second party and how the drinks were too expensive but it was my first function with people from my new job and I had to do whatever to fit in. I told her that I left Wiseman at his place. I needed to go out without him. He wasn't my boyfriend. And to make that very clear, I did not want to have him tagging along, inevitably forcing me to uncomfortably and awkwardly introduce him to everyone. I explained how I hadn't even seen Wiseman in two weeks. I had been avoiding him hoping we would just fizzle out. "WE" that there never was. The third party was the one with all the juice. It was the one I should have went to earlier, before I was intoxicated. I told her how fun SWEET and VICIOUS was. I told her about Cherry's new boyfriend. I told her about the people I met, including one really gorgeous, funny, fascinating and friendly guy that I spent over an hour talking with. A guy that I felt had potential. A guy with a sense of humor and a sassy sarcasm. A guy that I acted like a drunken fool in front of. I told her how I had come on too strong, but it was only because I felt something. "He GRABBED my HAND on the way to the bathroom. Then he waited for me to finish so we could walk back to the table together. It was magical." I just blatantly asked him out. He said he couldn't. Not that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't. I told Joely that "couldn't" probably meant, "couldn't be seen in public with a drunken fool who desperately needs a haircut." I tried to express my truth to her. I was really frustrated. She sensed it and told me to get my ass home before it froze to death, and to call her immediately.

I went home, and as the sun was setting, with no lights on in my apartment, I listened to Howie Day's Madrigals CD. I didn't call her when I arrived home. Forty-Five minutes later, she called me. I let it go to voicemail. The voicemail said..."I know you are home avoiding my calls. Don't get depressed. Let's go see a movie or go to Dive 75. What else are we gonna do? Just sit around and wallow in our own self-pity? Call me back!" I was under a wool blanket in the dark. What was I avoiding? Why was I falling into this depression? Was it about Wiseman? Was it about the gorgeous guy I met who "couldn't" go out with me? Was it about how complacent my life had become? Had I reached a point in my life where nothing mattered except getting by, and I would do whatever it took just to function on a daily basis and nothing more? I lit a fag, breathed in, blew out, and began to cry.