Tears on my Pillow

Yuck.

I've been in bed crying all day.

I hear the sounds of an ice cream truck outside.
I think I'll go get something for lunch.

-h-

Lesson Learned

Shit.

I learned my lesson this time...

The pleasure was nowhere near worth the pain!

I'm off to Long Island this afternoon to lunch with my mom, talk "business" (uh oh!) and go to my cousin's communion party tonight.

-h-

Tonight, Tonight...

I have a longer post coming, but I just thought I'd wish you all a Happy Friday. I'm done with the day's teaching and off to get a late lunch.

In other news, the Smolderer sent me an email. (Weird!)

TT has been texting me pretty persistently-- I got to hand it to that guy!

And Hammer is having a rooftop party tonight. Yay!

I'll be back with more as soon as I get a chance...

love,
hyde

Play It Again Sam

Deja vu!

It's 2:00 am and I'm just getting back from Cheers and I'm 100% sober.

After my drug-induced lengthy afternoon nap, I spent the evening at karaoke. The Smolderer was there and was majorly vying for my attention. He hardly left my side. The scary part-- he seemed to know a hell of a lot about me that I don't remember telling him. The other scary part-- he recommended I do "the Landmark Forum," something Narc said to me in one of our very first conversations. More on all that later. I need to be up in five hours, so I should really get to bed.

A little drama at the end of the evening-- the cops showed up at the bar looking for a rapist. Um... glad to know I've been keeping such wholesome company.

PumpedUp couldn't get enough of the fact that I managed to stay sober tonight. IrishBird grabbed my ass and I laughed.

I'm feeling a little absurd right now (in an existential way) and I'm not in the mood for blogging, so I'll leave it at that.

I do miss Narc still, though. I really, really do. But then, what do I expect? It's only been 15 days. And it takes more than that to build a new routine. As for the alcohol-- I'm three days without it. I'm still not entirely ready to commit to that though...

More later...

-h-

In a Stupor

Well... guess what? I never made it to the party at the Ritz Carlton. And why not? Because I'm in a valium-induced stupor and I fucking hate it. I don't heart valium anymore. Bezoukhoff was here this afternoon and I fell asleep while he was sitting in my living room talking to me. Then I got into bed for a "quick nap" and didn't wake up until 8:00 pm! Fuck that. I'm going back to vivarin and red bull tomorrow. Doctor's orders or not... I'll take the valium at night to deal with my insomnia, but that's it.

As such, I'm really feeling too tired to tell you my story from last night. Maybe I'll have some more energy in another hour or two, maybe I won't. This sucks though. I don't like feeling tranquilized. I like feeling hyper. My drugs of choice? Cocaine, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol. I don't like this sedated feeling. I feel groggy, lethargic and out of control. This is one "firecracker" who has stopped cracking.

Grrr.... (Or should I say Zzzzzz....)

Still thinking of Narc, but it hurts a little less today and yesterday. What the fuck, though? Everything hurts a little less. I'm on a fucking tranquilizer!

My eyes are itching from allergies.

I gotta go now... find a couch to lay on or something like that.

-h-

Can it be?

Can it be? It's 2:00 am, I'm just getting back from Cheers, and yet, I drank not a drop of alcohol!!! Oh-- and I also managed to have an amazing adventure! It included getting a shoulder massage and an attempted kiss from a NY state senator, meeting a senior editor of a very prominent NY newspaper and getting invited to a swanky fundraiser cocktail party tomorrow night at the Battery Park Ritz Carlton.

The story is forthcoming. You'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Time to pop a valium and hit the sack.

love,
hyde

I love...

An unedited, spontaneous list of things that I love!

I love singing, I love singing, I love singing
I love the ocean
I love all water
I love all liquid
I love that Narc called me Serpentine (maybe I am)
I love Marlene Dietrich singing "Jonny"
I love drinking cold white wine in a hot shower
I love sleeping in a messy bed
I love the smell of burning wood
I love when it's so cold out that the wind burns my cheeks
I love getting moody and chain smoking
I love wearing my blue sweatshirt
I love my family
I love Mr. Rochester (the feline)
I love Heathcliff (the character)
I love all brooding, infantile men
I love exciting new ideas
I love academia
I love the 1890s
I love the 1920s
I love 1950s movies
I love rough sex
I love christmas lights
I love perfect melodies
I love inventing traditions
I love holidays
I love "the dictatorship of the birthday"
I love mermaids
I love my aquamarine ring from B
I love the only birthday card I have from my dad
I love buying blazers in the fall
I love makeup
I love loving Narc
I love blogging
I love the Cathedral of St. John the Divine
I love trying to live life according to Walter Pater
I love being a bad ass
I hate to say it, but I love drinking
I love Cheers
I love long talks with my best friends
I love glitter
I love taking the Circle Line cruise in the spring
I love New York City
I love when I know I have a smart idea
I love playing piano
I love to draw
I love liebestod
I love Elvis
I love Jack Bauer
I love the Victorians
I love Weimar
I love sexy male voices
I love my apartment
I love the night time
I love sexual morbidity
I love kisses that hurt
I love bruises
I love remembering
I love crystal
I love dreams

Like Flies to Honey

This weekend wasn't so bad. I spent most of it recovering from how badly I fucked myself up on Thursday night. NDN and I had an adventure at the bank on Saturday morning and our lobster dinner on Saturday night. On Sunday I went to my parents house for my brother's 19th birthday. Nineteen was such a critical year for me. When I was 19, my brother was only 11. I can't believe how quickly the time has gone by.

Sunday night, I met B at St. Bart's for a new service they started this week. It's called "EMERGE: Where the ancient meets the urban in a new alternative worship service." It was kind of interesting. They had trippy world-beat techno-ish music playing in the darkness, tons of incense and a huge projector with changing images going the whole time. The cantor sounded like a country/folk singer over African drums. It was a little flaky for my taste, but I appreciate what they were trying to do artistically. If the balance had tipped more towards the dark and less towards the folksy, I would have really loved it. But I just can't overcome my hostility towards strangers enough to want to join hands and talk about fellowship-- even in church. I prefer worship to be a more personal aesthetic experience.

Yesterday was indeed a day for Dr. Jekyll. I had a very productive therapy session in the morning (which prompted what I hope will be a turning-point conversation with B). Then I went back to the endocrinologist (I haden't been there in over six months!) and got severely scolded for my incredible weight gain (grrr....) and total disregard for my blood sugar issues. I told him about the heavy drinking and I've got to go back next week for a whole round of blood tests because the insulin sensitizer I'm usually on can put a strain on the kidneys. Then, I read a few articles for a paper I need to write as well. Scheisse! Long time, no see, Dr. Jekyll!

Later that afternoon B came over. He told me that he's sick of "German neurosis" and "gender anxiety" and needed to get some "hard-core masculinity" and "Italian sap" back into his opera, so he's been listening to Verdi. We had fun singing. I busted out the book of Verdi soprano arias and went crazy. B isn't really a singer, but he even fumbled through the closing duet from Aida with me. (An old-school favorite joke of ours was a dramatic reenactment of Radames trying to bust open the tomb). But I knew I was going to cabaret that night, and I had to bring my voice back down to a lower register. I sang a few mezzo arias to get it back in the right place and then I got obsessed with singing Carmen. I made him play the bass line from the Habanera for me, and sang that. Then I sang the Seguidilla. And then I danced around the apartment singing the Act II "la-la-la" song (that Carmen sings while dancing for Jose) while B played fake castanets and pretended to be Don Jose getting called off to duty. What a blast! All of that singing had my voice uber-warmed up, so cabaret class was just that much more fun. The show is only two weeks away now, and I really am getting excited for it.

After class, I stopped by Cheers for dinner. All was well and good until some creepy drunk boy decided to come talk to me.

"Can I have a bite of your sandwich?" he asked.

"Um, no."

"What??? Really?"

"That's right... The answer is no!"

I tried to ignore him. He stood with a face only a few inches from mine, swaying and leaning against the bar.

"So... What's your rank?" he asked.

"My what?"

"Your rank!"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that," I said, turning away. I shot IrishBird a desperate look to get this guy away from me somehow.

"Your RANK!" he exclaimed again.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't encourage him," IrishBird whispered to me.

I nodded and pretended to be interested in the Yankees game on TV. (Sorry Dan-- I know you're a fan, but I did have to pretend!)

"It means-- What are you doing after this!" he exclaimed.

This guy was so out of it. IrishBird came around the bar and asked to speak to him outside. She threw him out. It made me think of Narc getting kicked out of Bar & Books multiple times. I wonder if "what's your rank" is this guy's equivalent of Narc's use of the word "wanker."

Shortly after that creep left, Manwich's friend P came in. (I first met him back in March. He tried to give me his phone number twice. I didn't call him either time. You'd think he'd get the point. Anyway, he seemed like a decent enough guy and he's a friend of a friend, so I decided to greet him warmly.)

"Hey! How are you?" I called out as he sidled up at the bar beside me.

What I thought would be a brief and bland courtesy conversation quickly became a lot more strange. First of all, I found out that this guy is one of the most bitter people I've ever met. He claims to have been on the team that invented certain windows software before it was pirated by the likes of Bill Gates and Steve Jobs back in the early '80s. He went on and on and on and ON about that forever. I was having trouble feigning interest after a while, and again, desperately turned back to the Yankees game for help. He told me that he now works somewhere in midtown in the mailroom of some big company. He started telling me how he had just come from another bar where some guy "coughed on him."

"This asshole just kept coughing on me!" he exclaimed. "Would you believe it! The motherfucker! I'm trying to control my anger issues. I mean, I've been working on it for a while... counseling and stuff, but this guy was just asking for it!"

Um.... what? P was starting to freak me out.

He rambled on. "So, I turned to him and said 'Good thing I'm a nice guy, or I'd shove a knife up your ass until it came through your nose!'"

As he spoke, his face was turning red, his mouth twisted with rage. He looked anxious and started shifting from one foot to another. Then he started to tell me about some secretary in the office where he works who coughs on him while he's bringing around the mail.

"This girl thinks she can just cough on anyone!" he said. "Her fucking asthma!" he whined, imitating the poor girl. "Doesn't she know she can give that asthma to someone? And someone who makes $8 an hour can't afford all her fancy fucking treatments!"

"Um... Asthma is not a contagious disease," I wanted to say. But I kept my mouth shut.

P went on, shaking his fist, fully turned towards me now. (And no-- it was NOT a turn on. Ha ha ha, Hammer and NDN!)

"I told her she needs to get off her high horse and stop coughing on people! One day she'll cough on the wrong person and he'll knife her! Cut her throat! You know? I was doing her a service to tell her that! Fucking secretary to the partner! Thinks she's better than everyone else."

I told P I had to go.

"It's getting late and I've got to get up early," I said.

"No, stay! Can I buy you a drink? What are you having?"

"Just soda," I said. I agreed to have one more. (I know... I know... "I'm just a girl who can't say no.")

After that, I excused myself and left. On my way out, I paused to kiss IrishBird goodbye.

"That guy is fucking nuts!" I whispered.

"I know!" she laughed. "Hyde! You draw in all the crazies! I don't know what it is, but they're like flies to honey with you!"

Two girls sitting nearby (both of whom I know, but neither of whom have blog code-names) laughed.

"Maybe it's because I'm crazy?" I suggested. "Or maybe it's because I listen to their rantings and give these people the time of day and act interested?"

"Whatever it is, you're making my job easier," she said. "You distract them all at the bar, so I don't have to talk to them and can do my work!"

"Maybe you guys should pay me," I said.

Then I went home.

So, that's that...

I still have Narc on my mind in every other thought. That hasn't changed, but I'm hoping it will. Monday night was especially hard. I was supposed to watch 24 at Hammer's place, but we crossed wires and ended up missing each other. I watched at home by myself and went to Cheers afterwards and got drunk, hanging out with BarMan, ThursdayGirl, BulgarianGuy and JerBer. I couldn't stop thinking of Narc. Every other Monday he's in midtown. I knew he wasn't far. He usually makes it a habit of crashing at my place on those nights. I half expected a call from him, although the call never came. It's not that I want things to go back to the way they were... I just want... I don't know. I can't finish that thought.

Last night I got into bed and watched American Idol. (Kelly Pickler has to go!). Idol made me think of Narc. Then I turned off Idol and watched a few minutes of Conan. Conan makes me think of Narc. I woke up this morning and was searching for an old student email. I passed a lot of messages from Narc. (Narc! Narc! Narc!) I put on my iPod and selected an old play list. A few minutes later, Golden Vein by the Cocteau Twins came on. Golden Vein is a Narc song. So, that's what my days are still like. Every other thing that happens reminds me of him.

I'm feeling good today though... relatively. I just taught the Reformation. (The last time I did that, all was well with Narc and I had a date with MuscleGuy!) I had to hand out student evaluations today. When the students finished them, they had to put them into an envelope without me seeing them. One of the flirty boys smiled at me when he turned it in.

"Hey, Prof! You aced MY test!" he said.

Ha ha...

Anyway, that's it for now. Oh-- and by the way-- I heart valium.

Love,
Hyde

Good Morning...

Good morning...

My cat is being cute this morning.
My bed was warm.
I didn't want to get out of it.

I need to ring up Dr. Jekyll today.
I'll let you know what the good doctor says.

-h-

Despondent

I am despondent... And aware that I should say no more.

Not that it matters either way.

I am feeling utterly rejected.

Thank God I'm not as crazy as I used to be, or tomorrow morning might not be as scrap-able.

But it'll be okay. It'll all be sat upon in the morning....

love,
h

A Perverse Thought

At this time last year, Narc and I weren't speaking. Twenty days passed-- April 4th-24th with no contact. And then he showed up that night I had the Stallion here.

So... maybe...

Never mind.

It was a perverse thought to being with.

PS: I cleaned my kitchen and chipped my nailpolish. Damn it!

Pictures!

Here is my view while I am watching American Idol.

Here is a picture of my arm, the Thursday morning after I last saw Narc. Couchy wrote that "Hello Princess." Don't ask me why...

Here is a picture of the two lobsters that NDN and I ate on Saturday night. They are fresh out of the steamer and cooling in his sink. They were delicious.

As you can see, I'm not feeling very prolific today...

-h-

10 Days

It's been 10 days... almost 11. How many days until I stop feeling sad?

:(

hyde

Why I Love B

"Hyde! Hyde! Do you want me to make you a copy of the uber-Tristan?" he asked.

"The uber-Tristan? What's that?"

"Act One: Karl Bohm, Birgit Nilsson, Wolfgang Windgassen... Act Two: Leonard Bernstein, Hildegard Behrens, Peter Hofmann... Act Three: Herbert von Karajan, Helga Dernesch, Jon Vickers! It's going to rock!"

I laughed.

"Yeah, make me one."

B is one of a kind!

The Cloud

There's not much to say, because everything that I feel is a little flat right now. I've sort of been all over the place with this Narc thing. It's been a week and a half. First I was angry at him. For a brief moment, I felt empowered. Then I started to feel as if I had made a miserable mistake. I wanted to apologize to him. I felt guilty. I felt remorseful. Then I had a great therapy session and felt a little bit more emotional freedom. A slight sense of empowerment began to come back. That dissipated quickly though, because in the end, I miss him. I just miss him. And it's my own fault, because I chose not to accept him on his terms. That's why he's not here at all.

I've been trying not to dwell on this, but it's hard not to, as it is all so fresh. Worst of all, I can't be sure why he hasn't called me yet-- if it's because he doesn't want to-- because he's mad at me-- because he hates me... or if it's because he's busy with CouchSleeper and otherwise occupied.

I know I shouldn't care, but I do... Narc is not in every thought in the front of my mind, but my feelings for him and about him have formed a sort of thick cloud shrouding every other thing I do. It's weighing me down. There's no other way to say it-- I hate myself about it all and I am sad.

On Thursday night I had dinner with Anxious. She needed some advice about graduate school. She is applying for PhD programs in Spanish and got accepted to a school in Maryland (with a great financial aid package). The problem is that she's not sure that she wants to leave NY. We ate Italian food and shared a bottle of wine. Anxious also made sure to show me her diamond ring from BulgarianGuy.

"I'm 30 years old now," she said. "I'm done with semi-precious. I need some precious stones! And I have to set a precedent-- at least $200 for an anniversary gift, you know? This ring was $450."

It made me want to puke. I don't like when boys spend money on me.

Afterwards I had plans to meet Hammer at her new apartment, to watch a movie and to celebrate the "holiday"-- 4/20.

On my way down there, I stopped in at Cheers for a quick drink, because KHill's friend Dave was outside the bar and started flirting with me. I think that that whole crew of boys (KHill, FightingMensch, etc.) just think that I'm really wild and promiscuous (although I'm not!) and it amuses them. It kind of amuses me too. I find the dynamic entertaining.

Anyway, when I got to Hammer's neighborhood, she was at a restaurant with her friend, Maximus. I joined them and we all chatted for a while, but Maximus had to take off. Hammer and I stopped over at Daddy O's (the place where I MET Narc!) and I had one more drink and then it was off to Hammer's.

Hammer's new place is gorgeous and it's finally starting to come together-- the walls are beautifully painted and she has lovely French doors. I said hi to little Jimmy who had injured his beak the day before. On our way into the building, Hammer discovered a strange note for her in her mailbox area-- a note from Sing-Man! As all that is Hammer's story, I'll let her fill you in on it over at her blog. Both of us were pretty excited about it though.

While Hammer and I were working on rolling some joints, she was instant-messaging with Mohawk-- a fairly new suitor. (Actually she was dictating and I was typing. It was funny.) Mohawk said he wanted to stop by later on in the evening. Finally, we moved into her bedroom for the movie. She had seen parts of a particular movie-- Next Stop Greenwich Village while she was in Phoenix and she insisted that I see it. It had a "sex" scene (without any sex) that I would die for, she said. She was right!

About a quarter of the way into the movie, Mohawk arrived. It was a little "awkward" (as NDN likes to say) as Hammer and I were both high, Mohawk and I had never met, and all three of us were stretched out on Hammer's bed with this rather strange selection of a film. I absolutely loved the movie, and that scene in particular, but it was a little difficult to get all giggley and talk about it with Hammer because the dynamic had changed once Mohawk was there.

I was so high that I kept on thinking that I had all sorts of complex insights about the film, but I was unable to pull up the words with which to discuss those ideas as they occurred.

At around 12:30, the movie ended and I decided to take off and let Hammer and Mohawk "do their thing." I took a cab back uptown and saw that Cheers was still open. Bad idea, but I went in. I drank a lot there and fast-- 10 jacks and 2 shots of Jager in an hour and a half. Obviously, I don't remember getting home after that.

The next day-- Friday, I was too out of it to do anything. I felt like shit. I kept coughing-- a sort of racking cough that hurt my chest. My eyes were itching and stinging. My head was pounding. I couldn't eat. My thoughts were sticky and muddled. I was just a wreck. I thought that I'd recover by mid-afternoon, but I didn't. B came over for a few hours and that cheered me up for a while, but I still didn't have the energy to do much. When he left, I lay limpidly on the couch watching "Date my Mom" on MTV, with glazed eyes and heavy heart. By 9:00 pm, I couldn't believe that I still hadn't recovered. I decided to try to get myself something to eat.

I donned my hooded sweatshirt and headed out into the cold. I looked like hell-- purple circles hung under my eyes. My eyelids were pink, puffy and swollen. I hunched over and lit a cigarette. When I passed by Cheers, BarMan tapped at the window to wave hello. I waved back without pausing. A few slices of pizza later, I felt a little bit revived. As soon as I did, there was that little voice again--

Maybe you should get out of the house, Hyde. You could go to Cheers. You'd probably feel better--more energy after a drink or two.

I forced myself to ride it out. Simultaneously exhausted and restless, I paced the apartment. I felt like Narc-- "going stir crazy," "ugh... dying!" "contemplating my naval"... "marinating in my own juices..." This is his life. I never wanted it for myself. I read some of the blogs. Charby wrote about Ben & Jerry's.

Ice cream! That's it! I want ice cream!

The sweatshirt went back on. The wind blew in my eyes as I crossed the street, causing them to tear. I felt a streak of evil in me. I wanted to do something mean to someone. I wanted to hit someone or spit at someone. I wanted to trip someone... to knock over everything in the store and laugh. But then it passed.

I bought chocolate ice cream-- Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Narc likes that kind. I came home and ate it in bed.

I'm being Bridget Jones, I wrote to Hammer.

After a few spoonfuls, I put the ice cream away and pulled the covers up tight around me. What was on TV? A 1958 movie starring Susan Hayward-- I Want to Live! It was about a woman involved in a lot of petty crime (bad checks, solicitation, etc) who ends up on death row, wrongfully accused of murder. I love 1950's culture and this was perfect, with it's swanky jazz and seedy dames! I think I fell asleep around 2:30.

This morning, I had plans to meet NDN to go "play with money" down in Chinatown. It was also the annual Taste of Chinatown food festival, so we indulged in that. NDN wants to have a lobster dinner tonight, so we picked up a couple of two pound lobsters, right out of the tank. I refuse to be present for the boiling, but I'll be preparing the side dishes.

So, that's it for now.

The bottom line-- I'm depressed and sensitive right now. I'm feeling very confused. But this is my life. I found a business card in my journal--some Russian publisher. Who the fuck knows what that's about. I wrote a letter to myself in my journal while I was drunk. Which night? I have no idea. Why couldn't you bend far enough? Don't call him because he doesn't want you. It's all your fault. Just live with the remorse. Or, if you have to-- Wait until his birthday and write to him then. I know, I'm fucking crazy.

Anyway, that's me... living under a cloud.

Monday I go back to work. I think it'll be good for me.

love,
hyde

The Hippy (and Another Dream-o-Meter)

On Monday night, after Hammer and I watched 24, I donned my blue sweatshirt, took a pack of smokes and walked her to Grand Central. It was perfect weather-- warm enough to be outside in my flip flops, but cold enough that my toes were cold. On my way home I stopped in at Overlook for a drink (as Cheers usually closes early on Mondays). I ordered one jack on the rocks and sat down at the bar to brood for a bit. I was flipping through my cell phone, lamenting the erased Narc-texts when I noticed a man stood peering over my shoulder, frighteningly close to me.

"What the fuck?" I snapped at him. "Back off!"

(Remember-- I was in "brooding-Hyde" mode, not "friendly-Hyde.")

"I was not reading your message," he said.

"That's not the point!"

I glared at him defensively and shifted away from him in my chair. He was still standing way too close for comfort.

He had wild tangled hair-- a sort of unwashed afro, although he wasn't black. He spoke with an accent, but I couldn't determine his ethnicity. He looked like a misplaced Hippy (especially in Midtown Manhattan!)--very unkempt, but not in the scruffy, hungover, rumpled Narc way (that I love). This guy seemed actually "dirty." With a drunken grin on his face, he just stood there swaying, trying to engage me in conversation. Nothing that he said made any sense. He kept trying to touch me on the shoulder and I kept swatting his hand away. The bartender there is a friend of Arachnid's, and I know her from Cheers. She gave me a wary look as if to ask if she should intervene. I smiled back at her to reassure her.

"I'm only staying here for one drink," I told this weirdo. "I've got to go."

I slurped down my drink and scooped up my iPod and the pack of cigarettes.

"Can't I convince you to stay for another?"

"It's on me," the bartender quickly interrupted, pouring me a shot of jack. I think she felt bad for me, too polite to blow this guy off completely. Normally a welcome gesture, it wasn't what I wanted at that very moment.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked, that creepy, sloppy grin still plastered across his face.

"Um, no..."

"But I know you!" he insisted.

"You do?"

"Yeah! You live there!" he said, swinging his arm in the direction of my apartment. The gesture looked like it might knock him right off of his feet. "You have a piano in your house."

"You've never been in my house!" I exclaimed, slightly uncertain of myself.

"No, but you told me about it."

Phew!

"I met you at Cheers," he explained. "Don't you remember?"

I scanned my memory. Damn it. So many blurry nights at Cheers. But then I did remember.

"That's right! Your name is 'Hippy,' right? And you work for UNICEF? You made a comment about my high Doc Martin lace-ups."

"Yes. I thought you were very beautiful," he said, inching closer.

Oh yeah-- don't forget he's being drunk, predatory and creepy, Hyde. Abort conversation, Hyde! Abort! Abort!!!

"Yeah, well it's been a while," I said, pushing out my barstool. "But, um... Good seeing you. I've got to go."

"Don't you know why I haven't been back there?" he asked, putting his arm on my back.

I tried to squirm away.

"It's because of you," he continued.

"Me?!?" I was genuinely surprised.

"Yes, IrishBird told me that I was too touchy feely... that I couldn't come back."

"Why? What did you do?"

He put his hand on my back again.

"I tried to put my hand down your pants, like this," he said, sliding his hand lower.

I leaped into the air away from him.

"Oh, okay. Well, I really have to go now!"

He tried to give me a hug goodbye, but I was out of there. I ducked under his arm and scurried down the street as quickly as I could.

Yesterday I stopped by Cheers in the afternoon (to pick up a tape from IrishBird) and asked her if she remembered the incident. She did. We tried to piece it together. It was a while ago-- in my pre-blog days. I think it was in the Fall of 2004.

Then, this afternoon, I was in the Amish Market, picking up some things for lunch, and guess who I saw waiting on line? That same hippy! I made sure to keep out of sight.

And now for my dream-o-meter:

I had this dream the night before last. I keep thinking about it, even though it's nothing too peculiar. It was a Narc sex dream. In the dream we were making out and then he pinned me on the bed, straddling my shoulders, sort of sitting on me. But instead of opening his pants, he put his fingers in my mouth and started to fuck my mouth with his fingers. In the dream I was very passive-- just laying there. Do I want to do this? was the only thought in my mind. Then he jumped off of me to get a condom.

"Alright. That's it. I'm comin' on in!" he said.

(Saying something like that is NOT very Narc-like, but there it was in my dream).

I felt both passionate and absent at the same time, if that makes any sense. It's that strange combination that has lingered with me for the past two days-- a strange, strange feeling. Maybe it's just that with Narc I want two opposite things at the same time.

Other than that, I've been enjoying my week off (well, sort of. Aside from the Narc-mourning). I love my new John Lennon CD. I'm having dinner with Anxious tonight and then it's over to Hammer's to smoke up a bit and watch movies.

It's warm out today. I fucking hate the summer. But it's coming. Not much I can do to stop it...

love,
H

PS: GoldenFinch had a baby boy on Friday. I am SOOOOOOO excited about it! I doubt she's reading, but CONGRATULATIONS GOLDENFINCH!!!

Moderation

(But, no-- not the kind I need!)

Mystic has offered me a word of advice over at his blog:

"I...suggest to you that if you do not want to have parts of your life discussed then don't post them for everyone to see and produce a comment section for peoples responses."

As such, I've turned on "comments moderation." I will try to check for comments as frequently as possible and will post nearly everything submitted, but you'll all now have to suffer a short delay from after you write your comment until it actually appears.

I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that it won't keep you guys quiet!

That's it for now...

-h-

Cheering up Charlie!

How to cheer myself up! (See left)

Hyde to Hammer:
The next guy I date should have tattoos. That would be hot. Lots and lots of tattoos.

Hammer to Hyde:
You should hang out outside the tattoo place in my neighborhood and smoke cigarettes until a hot guy goes in.

Maybe I will, Hammer...

Maybe I will.

Three Facts

1. I'm incredibly pissed off right now.
2. I'm listening to John Lennon's "Woman is the Nigger of the World" (recommended by Hammer)
3. I have choir practice tonight.

-hyde-

Darkness and Light

So far, I've updated you all through Friday night. Here's the rest of my weekend!

On Saturday morning I woke up to meet NDN for dim sum. We were taking a little trip to China Town! I have to admit, I was cranky and irritable and annoyed that NDN tried three times to wake me up well before our scheduled meeting time. Even so, we had a lovely morning. The crowds were thick on Canal Street and the food at NDN's favorite dim sum spot was truly delicious.

After the meal, we had some ice cream and then NDN wanted to check out the Museum of the Chinese in America. I wasn't in a museum mood, though. I've just felt so emotionally out of wack lately that despite the gorgeous weather, I wanted to go home and get back into bed. I was finding myself supremely irritated by all of the people around me on the street. Sometimes I get like that. I think it's a defense. But at times when I start to feel alone-- I mean really alone (as in the Narc thing is over), I start to hate humanity. I become all "hell is other people" and get irritated at the slightest things. I try to resist those impulses because I don't like frowning upon the rest of humanity (believe me, I know it's an unattractive foible!) and I don't really feel such a disdain for the rest of the world... But Saturday morning was one of those days. I was annoyed at everyone and disgusted with most.

I walked NDN to the museum and decided to make my way back to the subway. As I walked, B called me, so I didn't immediately head underground. Instead, I kept wandering. When B and I hung up, Hammer called. I found myself in Soho heading West. As we talked, I walked past Toad Hall on Grand Street. Why did I walk that way? It's someplace Narc and I had been together a few times, although probably not in the past year. Nevertheless, it was a meeting spot early on in our "non-relationship." I just wandered as I talked to Hammer, stopping to buy a pair of earrings and passing by the Tribeca Tavern. Before I knew it, I was on his corner. I glanced at his building (which made me sad) and kept going, towards the Patriot. I stopped and bought a leather wallet (I desperately needed a new one!) but then forced myself to get into a cab and head home.

For the rest of the afternoon, I was largely unmotivated. I showered and then stayed in bed. B texted me, inviting me to the Saturday night Easter Service and I agreed. I thought it would be good for me to put myself back into that kind of sacred space for the evening. One of the reasons that I love synagogue and church is the feeling of wholeness it affords me-- as if I'm actually an "ends" and not just a "means." Sometimes it's hard for me to hang on to that feeling out here in the "real world."

It was an incredibly beautiful service-- my favorite in the church year (aside from Lessons and Carols at Christmas time). B has recently gotten very involved with the community at his church-- an Episcopalian church in a gorgeous landmark building (pictured to the left). You can imagine the power of the Easter service in a place like that! I entered in total darkness-- the coolness of the stones radiating, the air thick with incense. I sat near the front, as B was "acolyte-ing" (if that's even a verb!) and I knew that he would be sitting nearby.

The whole first half of the service was performed in darkness, lit only by dozens of candles held in our hands. The organ was majestic and the choir sublime. My favorites were the medieval chants. Even though the moment of "light" and "resurrection" was a powerful one, being the gloomy aesthete that I am, I was kind of disappointed when they had to turn the lights back on!

Afterwards, I sat outside on the steps of the church in the chilled Spring air, waiting for B to come out. We walked to the diner, talking all the way about theology, history and myth. B has become quite the Jungian these days! After we ate, we went for a stroll. In fact, I walked him halfway to Drippy's place before turning back for home. I had started to feel anxious about halfway through our meal, and I couldn't pin-point why. But there it was-- anxiety--unnamed, but increasing. The moment of parting is always hard for me with B.

On my way home I had to pass Cheers. Glancing through the window, a sob was lodged in my throat. (I don't quite know what that was about.) Back at my place, I lit up a cigarette-- a yellow American Spirit-- Narc's brand, not my usual Marlboro Reds. NDN stopped by with a present for me-- The Da Vinci Code. I decided to jump on the bandwagon and read it before the movie comes out. (I just finished it today. It was a "page-turner," alright, but as a historian it bothered me on many, many levels!)

I was listening to some playlist on my iTunes and the two of us started dancing around my apartment, while I continued to chain smoke. After a while of that, he settled in on the couch and we continued to hang out and talk until just after midnight. When NDN went home, I flopped onto my bed and caught the last hour of Saturday Night Live. I was still anxious.

What was this all about?

Even though it wasn't the foremost thought in my mind, ever since I had left the diner with B, I had been thinking about "going out" to drink. It was an unarticulated thought-- unarticulated even in the realm of "thought." It was just a feeling floating there amidst the folds of my brain. Now that I was alone, it grew bigger and bolder. The anxiety was oppressive. I couldn't settle in, nor could I feel rested, cozy or any of the joys of being at home. I tried to ignore the anxiety, but it grew. And it grew exponentially. At 1:00 am I got up and freshened my makeup. Numbly, I left the house.

Although it was a Saturday night, there wasn't much going on at Cheers-- that is until a strange woman walked in-- the same strange woman I had conversed with on my birthday. She remembered me and called me "birthday girl." While I was friendly at first, I quickly became annoyed because she was drunk and invasive and I couldn't get rid of her. In a meager attempt, I started talking to two guys on my other side. One lives in my building-- in my unit but on the 12th floor. Then, I got distracted from that conversation by two men on the other side of the bar trying to get my attention. One of them was the man from Qatar who I had impressed Thursday night with my "Jager-shooting" skills.

Mr. Qatar wanted to buy me a drink. I told him I "couldn't accept the offer." I was depressed and didn't want to be bound to flirt with him for the rest of the evening. He insisted though, so I acquiesced. I asked PCuz (who was bartending) for a "refill." I'm a bitch-- I was drinking doubles, so technically I had Mr. Qatar buy me two drinks. But, whatever... I can't afford to drink like I do, and a girl has to get by somehow, right? Once he was buying me drinks, I stayed and talked to him for a long time, but I didn't want to mislead him into thinking he was going to get anything beyond idle chit chat, so I had to make it clear every step of the way. As a result, it was all fine, but kind of a boring night. Just another night of me getting smashed on alcohol. They're all the same at this point.

I stayed at Cheers until they closed at 4:00 am and then came home. I was sad, damn it! The drinking didn't even do its job. I was still thinking about Narc. Narc, Narc, Narc! Underneath it all, above it all and in it all was Narc!

Never one for sophisticated impulse control, I called him. I heard his voice on the machine.

(Hang up, Hyde! Hang up!)

I hung up.

That's twice now that I've called and hung up. I know he'll see it in his call records. But, whatever...

Who the fuck cares what he thinks, I can hear Hammer saying. It's what you think that's important here!

I went to sleep.

On Sunday morning, I awoke for Easter. The first thing on my mind-- last Easter was the first I ever heard of the Exhibitionist-- Narc wrote me a 7:00 am message telling me he was "just getting home," advising me to have a "great Easter with the fam." Ugh!!!

I got dressed and downed a few red bulls as fast as I could. On my way out of the apartment, I again bumped into NDN. He was heading to Brooklyn to meet some friends in the park, so we shared a cab to Penn Station. BigSis was waiting to meet me at the other end of the train ride. We had plans to do Easter dinner at her in-laws' house, but first we had to stop at my parents' place.

My mom had just pulled some stuff out of storage, and she wanted me to go through what I wanted to save and what could be tossed out of my old belongings. There was a lot there-- my high school diploma, clippings of me from the local newspaper detailing various high school achievements, Playbills from shows I had seen and performed in, old poetry, old journals, souvenirs from Spain, France and Russia... But what struck me most of all was the artwork.

Among the piles were several of my old sketchbooks and paintings. Some of those paintings I was genuinely surprised at-- their spirit was foreign to me, and the originality impressive.

Did I really do those things? Make those things?

I felt a murmur inside-- a tiny awakening of a girl I used to be. It felt good. My sisters and my mother stood by and marveled.

"You know, you're really selfish," my mom grumbled, accusingly. "You have so much talent and you don't do anything with it! You have a responsibility Hyde! A responsibility!!!"

She said it like she meant it and I didn't know how to reply. All that was there was anxiety and guilt-- feelings I wasn't interested in articulating.

But all in all, it was a shocking reminder of myself. Over the past two years-- the "Narc Years"-- the binge drinking years--I've LOST myself. I used to have so many layers, but lately I feel like they've all been flattened out. Looking at my artwork, I was filled with a wistful surge.

I want... I want....
Where have I gone?

There wasn't much time to dwell on all of that. I quickly separated things into "keep" and "toss away" piles and then it was off to meet Bro-in-Law's family.

His niece and nephew (ages 5 and 2 1/2) were playing in the backyard when we arrived. I went outside and joined them for a long time. It was wonderful to make them laugh. When we finally came in for dinner, the little one insisted that I sit next to him. He's barely speaking, but he made his wishes clear! He wouldn't even sit down until I joined him at the table. Then he spent the meal wriggling around, trying to climb into my lap and tickle me. It was just what I needed. I love family holidays. The regrounding is so good.

By the early evening I was physically exhausted-- the lack of sleep never fails to catch up with me! I didn't get back to the city until fairly late.

Exiting Penn Station and walking up to Times Square, something was off. The city had a "creepy" energy that night. Pairs of menacing eyes were upon me. Paranoia? Mounted police officers decorated the street corners, although I couldn't determine their purpose. A horse glared at me, flaring its nostrils and stomping its hoofs. I cowered away. My stomach was uneasy and I clutched my purse to my side, making my way towards the bus stop. Even on the bus, everyone was eerily silent. I put on my iPod, but the unsettled feelings didn't pass. Second Avenue was even worse-- the streets were dead and empty. New York was cold... foreboding... I rushed back towards my apartment as quickly as I could, my heart pounding with each step. It wasn't until I was home that things felt "okay."

Once back in my living room, I gratefully collapsed on the couch, watched a lot of television and thought of Narc. I played back some of his old messages. A heaviness in my chest constricted my throat and made it hard to breathe. I was so fucking tired and there was no more room for thought that night. I had to drown it all with sleep. And so I did. I slept for nearly 12 hours!

Yesterday I had a happy reunion with Hammer, an exceedingly strange encounter at a neighborhood bar (not Cheers), while today I had a major revelation in therapy. But all that will have to wait for another time.

That completes the story of my weekend!

Good night all!

love,
hyde

Holy Discomfort

It's Monday again! But this time with an open week stretched out ahead of me-- no teaching! I know I need to take this time to turn things around and to get going on my incompletes, but it's hard. It's always the hardest thing to start.

Until around 1:00 pm today, I felt the tug of my spiral downwards urging me to lay in bed and mope, but I forced myself up. I still didn't feel quite right. I talked to Hammer for a bit on the phone and then I called B. Sometimes I really hate him--for a million and one reasons that are too personal to go into here. But because of it, sometimes when I talk to him, I feel myself being manipulative-- making him feel bad or guilty on purpose and then I hate myself for it. I was doing just that today. When I hung up with him I started to cry-- about everything-- about that overriding feeling of helplessness that I just can't seem to shake.

And then, I don't know why, but I took a Vivarin. I started to feel better. I crushed up another one and snorted it-- pretty stupid, I know, but it did the trick. I cleaned up a bit, taking out the piles of accumulated garbage and throwing all of the random dirty clothes around my house into the hamper. Then I went out and got some food for lunch. When I got back, I called B to apologize for making him my emotional dumping ground. Then I got on my exercise bike and cycled for half an hour. I'm feeling a million times better now (albeit pretty sweaty!).

If this is really "it" for me and Narc (and I suppose I shouldn't qualify that by saying "if" but I can't help it!) then, can I blame myself for struggling a bit? I think the most important thing for me to focus on this week is staying off the alcohol. It clouds my thinking about everything and I spend my entire life either drunk or hungover-- neither a condition conducive to moving forward with things!

So the past few days have been a bit of a roller coaster! As you know, on Wednesday night I was out with Narc and Couchy until around 5:00 am, getting told by CouchSleeper that I should "run the other way" and then getting left in the street by Narc. Enough of that...

**********************

Thursday was a new day and I spent most of it recovering from the night before. At around 3:00 pm I met NDN to head to Long Island. I had invited him to Passover at my Aunt's place. We never have a real Seder, as my family is entirely secular, so Passover for us is more of a family gathering over food than it is a religious holiday. I really love religion though (most all of them!) and I cherish the moments on the calendar that provide a sort of sacred space for reflection. My family always leaves it to me to try to imbue a little meaning into the holidays, and so I tried to make us at least recount the Passover story. What I love most about this holiday week and the moment at which it has arrived in my life are the themes of "liberation," "death" and "resurrection." God knows, I need it...

My mom dropped me and NDN off at the train station (where we proceeded to miss our train) and while we were waiting there, I got a very strange text from TT.

So despite our conversation on Saturday, I don't think we can be friends anymore, he wrote.

I was really confused. Then he wrote again:

My phone is about to start charging me for outgoing AND incoming text messages. You'll BANKRUPT me! Catch you later.

Was he trying to be cute? I immediately wrote back:

Huh? I'm confused.

His reply:

Did you read all the messages? I'm just funnin' with ya. I sent them milliseconds apart so you wouldn't misunderstand. (See how well that worked out...)

So I called him. I really just don't click with his entire energy, nor his sense of humor. Why would he be making jokes like that at such a sensitive moment in our "relationship?" The phone call was not much better. I endured a murderous ten minutes of pointless chit chat during which I felt I had to carry the entire conversation.

"Yeah, so I'll talk to you soon," I said as I hung up.

Whatever. The whole TT thing needs to be MAJORLY placed on the back burner right now. I'm just dealing with too much in the rest of my life.

When I got back to my place, I was restless and depressed. I had bought a new journal that morning in the hopes of "starting over" with a life purged of Narc. So I said good night to NDN and went to Cheers with my journal.

My heart was hurting with a dull aching constriction and I got drunk quickly. Everything seemed surreal-- like a bad nightmare from which I couldn't escape. A man in a blue bow-tie sang "Mothers-- don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys." And all I could think of was what CouchSleeper had said.

"I know you know why I love Narc," I told him. "You must love him too-- you're his best friend!"

He laughed at me.

"I don't love him!" he said. "And I certainly don't love him like you do!"

I couldn't rid myself of that.

I knew nearly everyone at Cheers that night-- FightingMensch, Duff, PumpedUp, the RedFaced Lawyer, Manwich, Masseuse, KHill (yes, KHill was back!) a guy named Dave that I had met the previous Monday and Nickle-- a friend of TT's (in fact the link between me and TT when I "re-met" him back in January).

It's the same night over and over, I thought. You're trapped in the same fucking night. Life is not moving! It's never moving! It's never moving!

And indeed, I felt trapped. I thought of Narc and Couchy sitting at the Patriot, probably doing the exact same thing as they do every night-- as Narc and I do every night. They were probably sitting there getting smashed on Jack, unwittingly memorizing Gretchen Wilson songs, and Johnny Cash and Tammy Wynette.

KHill was ignoring me the whole night. It was not what I needed for my self-esteem at that moment. I hadn't seen him since early February-- the night I was making out with Double-T in the bar.

I sang the song "Crazy."

Afterwards, KHill cheered my name and "high-fived" me. Okay, so things were not so bad. I was just being paranoid. I bought a shot for him and one for Masseuse. Masseuse told me that she broke up with FightingMensch but that she still wants to fuck him.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," I said.

Someone shouted the name "Coogan," urging a friend to get up and sing. And I thought of Coogan's-- a bar up near Columbia Medical School where I used to hang out with a boy named AIR7 long, long ago.

A man from Qatar started to talk to me. He wanted to buy me drinks. He works for the UN (as do most of the "foreign" men in my neighborhood). I drank with abandon-- four shots of Jager in 15 minutes. The man from Qatar widened his eyes at that. I wished he would go home. Eventually he did.

At the end of the night, there was nobody left except for me, ThursdayGirl, IrishBird and BarMan.

"Whether you say 'I can' or you say 'I can't,' you're right," BarMan said.

I was too drunk to understand, so I wrote it down.

ThursdayGirl had a bruise on her arm.

"What's that from?" I asked.

"Oh, from him throwing me around a bit!" she laughed, gesturing towards BarMan.

"I love those," I said.

"No you don't, Hyde!" BarMan glared. "And if you ever come in here with one again, I'll never call you again!"

"I don't mind them," I said. "And you never call me anyway!"

Everyone started to crack up. I felt like I was losing my mind. The bar was closing. Was it 3:00 am?

So, I went to Manchester.

I arrived alone, but saw the bouncer from Cheers there.

"Do-re-mi!" he called out in greeting. (That's his nickname for me).

Sean Duffy was out with a back problem. The substitute bartender offered me a shot for a "bump."

"I don't have anything on me," I said.

I drank two drinks there, and I dialed Narc. I heard his machine and hung up the phone.

Shit! Shit! Shit, Hyde! I thought.

I sent myself a text to let myself know in the morning that I hadn't left him a message (just in case of a blackout). And then it hit me. I was drunk-- too drunk to be out by myself-- even just five blocks from my house. The bouncer had left. I was alone and suddenly feeling stupid. I paid my tab and got up to leave. I felt woozy and unsteady. I didn't want to stumble home alone. I was scared. So I hailed a cab. The cab driver laughed at me, as I was only going four blocks. He didn't even turn the meter on.

"Don't you need that meter?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it, dear," he said.

I gave him five dollars.

Then I was asleep.

**********************

Thank God I set my cell phone alarm, I thought as I opened my eyes to a head-pounding Friday morning.

I had promised B to meet him at church, and I didn't want to fail-- for my sake as much as for his. I always take well to Good Friday services. As fast as I tried to get myself together, I was still ten minutes late to meet him. Walking to the church, I was overwhelmed with emotions and started to cry a little on the street. I wiped back my tears as best I could when I saw him sitting on the cool stone steps.

"You're late," he grumbled.

"I know-- but only ten minutes late, and I'm not late for the service. It hasn't started yet, has it?"

"No, but that's not the point, Hyde!" he snapped at me. "You're late and it's just not cool!"

"Okay! I'm sorry! Let's just forget it. Let's not start the day like this. We're going to church. Can't you just start the day with a little forgiveness?"

"Oh, so now I'M the bad guy?" he barked at me.

I couldn't deal with it. B and I are often at odds over small issues like this, but this time I was so emotionally raw that I had ZERO tolerance for any kind of conflict.

"Forget it! I'm leaving!" I cried.

I turned and ran down the church steps, rounding the corner as fast as I could. There I stood with my back pressed again the side of the building, sobbing. I didn't care if the tourists were looking. I just felt pain, and my pounding head didn't help.

When I managed to calm my breathing, I thought about it all again. I wanted to go to church. I needed to clear that space in my head and in my heart. I needed that feeling of peace and safety. I didn't want my quarrel with B to take that from me, so I headed back in. I made sure to sit on the other side of the church-- across the aisle and a few rows behind B so that he couldn't easily spot me.

Fuck him! I thought, angry and sad all at once.

But then, I couldn't stop crying. I hated myself so much, overwhelmed with worthlessness. The organ music crunched down on me, pinning my shoulders under the weight of its sound.

Nothing I do is right. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, I thought.

I can't do it! I can't do it!

I haven't felt that kind of "helpless" suicidal in a long time. But at that moment, I wouldn't have minded just ending everything. I know it's because I'm being a coward, but still-- it's how I felt. Fixing it all just seems like so much work-- so much insurmountable work!


While the entire service was beautiful, it was the homily that I found most meaningful. The church will have a printed copy of the sermon available next week, so I'm hesitant to write about it too much without having it to look back upon, but the theme of the sermon was "Holy Discomfort." She talked about the presence of Mary and the disciples at the foot of the cross, present, even in the face of helplessness and pain.

"There is no place to be but here," she said.

And I'm sure that she was talking about the greater sorrows in the world-- about not turning one's back on the impossible problems of poverty and injustice, even when we are "helpless" to do anything about it. But the idea of remaining present in the face of one's discomfort and helplessness as a "holy" act in and of itself struck a particular chord with me that afternoon in terms of my own life, and it really did help me. "Helpless" is not a feeling I'm good at sitting with.

About half an hour into the service (and before the homily), B turned his head and saw me sobbing, snotty, red-faced and all alone. He got up and made his way over to me without a word, putting his arm around me and kissing my hair. I felt a million times better. I cried a little harder for five minutes and then stopped. It felt good to have such a good friend.

After the service we went to a small cafe where he got a coffee and I ate some soup. We talked and talked and talked about religion and life, spirituality, fear, anxiety and about how neither of us is very good at "sitting" with negative feelings. I decided to erase all of my texts from Narc. Normally I flip through them once or twice a day and think about him, but if I really mean to rid myself of this destructive force in my life, I have to mean it! While I still haven't been able to bring myself to erase his voice mails, with B next to me, I reread the texts one by one and pressed "erase" each time. It was really hard for me, but I did it. (Remember, I'm the same girl who saved his ice ream in my freezer for about seven months!).

Mid-afternoon, B and I parted ways and I talked to Hammer on the phone while I walked home. She told me about how her Brother and future Sister-in-Law have become Groom-and-Bridezilla!

For the rest of Friday I was too exhausted-- emotionally spent and heavy to do much of anything. I crawled into bed early and watched a few old movies including The Lost Weekend and Blackboard Jungle.

My favorite quotes from the Lost Weekend:

On taking a drink:
"It's like stepping off a roof and expecting to fall just one floor!"

And:
"She knows she's clutching a razor blade but she won't let go."

Blackboard Jungle was most remarkable for the young Sidney Poitier.

So, at long last-- Finally, that night, some sleep was to be had!

**********************

For an update on the rest of the weekend, you'll have to wait some more. I'm tired of writing, for now...

love,
hyde

On the one hand... On the other

I have a moderately long post brewing about the weekend, but I'm not in the mood to do it right now. On the one hand, this weekend included a lot (A LOT) of drinking, which I'm not feeling great about. On the other, I did a lot of "spritual" business with myself, spent a lot of time with my family and NDN and managed to avoid "apologizing" to Narc.

I'm tired right now and want to take a shower, so the post will have to come later. I just wanted to drop in and say hi, as I usually don't wait so long between posts. I'm glad Hammer is back in NY.

Hope you all had a Happy Passover/Easter or just a happy weekend, if you don't celebrate either.

love,
hyde

PS: As of yesterday, VJ is now a "Mrs."! Congratulations!!!

The Long Lost Argentina-Food Post

I know this may seem strange coming now-- four months after the trip, but I need something to do besides think of Narc. I liked making this post-- it's something I said I would do a long time ago, and it's better late than never, right? Why didn't I do this in January, right when I got back? I was heartbroken and caught up in the fact that Narc invited PopStarChick to my favorite opera for her birthday...

But this is NOT going to be a Narc post!

The food in Argentina was absolutely amazing, and back in December I promised NDN that I was going to write an entire post celebrating it. Albeit delayed, I am a girl who is true to her word. So I take you on a tour now through the food-experiences of Argentina!

On our very first day there we went for high tea at the Alvear Palace Hotel. Isn't it beautiful? NDN knew a woman who worked as a waitress there, and guess what? She was still there! They brought us a few complimentary sandwiches.





























Then, on one of the first nights there we ate fried pork cracklings and mote with NDN's Bolivian friends. (Mote is a kind of corn that is boiled until it is fat and bloated). They fed their children coca-cola in baby bottles. The restaurant was in an old garage on the outskirts of town. Stray dogs wandered about and some of the diners danced with napkins. The beer on the table? Why, Quilmes, of course!























Here we have one of the famous Argentine grills. In Buenos Aires NDN and I walked up and down this restaurant strip a million times looking for a particular restaurant that he remembered. The steaks were sooooooo good! Yum!























Halfway through the week we left Buenos Aires and headed to Carilo-- a wooded beach town about four hours from the capital. Men walk up and down the beach selling corn on the cob from little carts. Here's some weird guy on the beach enjoying his corn.






















This next picture was taken on the only day of the trip during which NDN and I fought. We were both excessively drunk, which I proceeded to make worse by leaving him on the beach, heading into town and drinking a whole other bottle of wine on top of the several we had already consumed. I also ate this yummy pizza.

I thought I had a picture of the Argentine pizza we enjoyed in Buenos Aires, but I can't find it. That pizza is called Fugazzeta and is made with no tomato sauce, but instead piles of cheese and onions. (Strangely, I also can't find the pictures of our fondu night, so you'll have to go without seeing that. It was good, though!)






















Below is the remedy for my romantic woes. If I can learn how to make calamari this delicious, NDN has agreed to marry me. Hmmm....





















Here is a shop in the town of Carilo. I smuggled back some sausages for my stepfather, and NDN purchased a Serrano ham which was just consumed at his dinner party. It wasn't very good. (As NDN put it-- it was better before it was eaten-- when it was just hanging in the kitchen!)





















Here is some more heavenly steak. Each one only cost around six bucks, so NDN and I each ended up ordering two! (I had to take half of the second one home, but it wasn't for lack of trying!)





















Not just the steak, but the ice cream was heavenly too! In fact, it appeared to be some sort of national obsession. Ice cream parlors were packed well into the night-- at 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning it was not unusual to see old folks and children still lined up to get some ice cream! The best flavor-- Dulce de Leche con Brownie!!! (I could only sample small sizes though-- talk about a sugar crash!)






















NDN and I also enjoyed fabulous breakfasts in Argentina. Here is a picture of NDN's orange juice glasses lined up like shots. Once he stacked the glasses on top of each other making a "Tower o' OJ" (in reference to my infamous "Tower o' Whiskey!")



























I will conclude this post with a shot of the only home-cooking we had while there. We ate the "New Year's Eve Meal" with the family of one of NDN's good friends. There are too many items on the table to name, but it was all tasty-- a lot of salads and things like that.





















So, that's it!

Okay... So it hasn't entirely worked. I'm still thinking of Narc. But I think that I need to be patient with myself. What did I sing at karaoke last night? Patsy Cline's "Crazy." (Dan-- I know you always tell me that I'm NOT crazy, but I think the song is rather appropriate right now.)

Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely
I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue

Worry, why do I let myself worry?
Wond'ring what in the world did I do?

Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you
I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying
And I'm crazy for loving you

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, Forever

Today I'm going to church with B for Good Friday. I'm meeting him in 20 minutes and I still have to grab something to eat, so I better move my ass.

Tonight I'm having dinner with Anxious. She wants to show me the ring BulgarianGuy got for her. (Not an engagement ring, though, as she was sure to point out).

Last night I went to my aunt's house for Passover. NDN came along.

Last night TT sent me a bunch of very strange texts (I'll fill you in on all that later).

Last night I saw KHill for the first time in a few months.

Did he pee on you? Hammer asked.

Ha ha!

Yesterday, the day before and the day before that I got very drunk. Not good enough, Hyde!

The day before yesterday I wrote to Narc: I am never going to see you again. I still mean it. But it scares me. I can't erase his voice mails. I just love his voice too much.

And "forever?" I can't fathom it.

But I'm going to church now.

It's April

Do you remember what I said back in December?

"To Be Alone in Winter is a Deadly Thing."
SOL D'INVERNO E COSA DA MORIRE!

"No one is alone in April."
NIUNO E SOLO L'APRIL.


April, come she will,
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain.
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
June, she'll change her tune.
In restless walks she'll prowl the night.
July, she will fly,
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must.
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
September, I'll remember.
A love once new has now grown old.

-Simon & Garfunkel-

What Happened?

I'll say it plainly-- I will NEVER see Narc again.

Nor will I ever tell any of you what happened tonight. If I DO see him again consider me a weak and worthless piece of shit because that is what I'll be.

Over, Over, Over.

Has it ever been as easy as this?

Funny to describe a broken-- a decimated-- heart as "easy."

Thank god for alcohol, right?

Thank god for the numbness...

-h-

Something Strange

Even though I drank last night and went to bed filled with self-hatred, I woke up with an opening paragraph for my Italian History paper in my head, and the following song looping round. I quickly wrote out the paragraph, and here's the song. (Perhaps I should make something of it...)



COMES ONCE IN A LIFETIME

From the Broadway Show "Subways Are For Sleeping" (1961)
(Jule Styne / Betty Comden / Adolph Green)

Every day, just go along dawn till sundown
Here's a rundown
Every day that comes, comes once in a lifetime

Take each day and gather the rosebuds in it
Fill each minute
Every day that comes, comes once in a lifetime

Think of now, tomorrow is waiting in the wings
Who knows what it brings
While the future waits, the present swings

Day to day, in Brooklyn or China 'cross the bay
Only once comes this particular sky
Only once these precious hours go by
Only once in a lifetime the day comes by
So live, live, live, live today

Think of now, tomorrow is waiting in the wings
Who knows what it brings
While the future waits, the present swings

From day to day, in Brooklyn or China 'cross the bay
Only once comes this particular sky
Only once these precious hours go by
Only once in a lifetime a day comes by

So live, live, live, come on and live today

Scattered

I talked to a guy named Jim.
I met a guy named Mace.
I drank more than I should have.
I want Narc. (I DO! God, I do!)

I'm a sick, sick girl.

My mouth is dry.
My pillow calls.

I am filled with self-hatred.

-h-

The Denouement

So, I finished chewing on my straw.

At 1:00 am I still hadn't heard from Narc and I hadn't texted him back. So I decided to get into bed.

Then he wrote again:
Group still going. Call in a few.

This time I wrote back:
K. But I may be going to bed soon. Have 9:30 therapy tomorrow...

I was tired. I fell asleep without much difficulty.

The next thing I knew, it was 3:00 am and the phone was ringing. It was Narc and he wanted to "crash at my place."

"Okay, but we've got to go right to sleep," I murmured. "I'm already sleeping."

"Yeah, I just thought it would be easier 'cause I'm in your neighborhood," he explained. "I'll be there in 10."

He was on Eighth Avenue. That is not in my neighborhood! Anyway, he arrived with a groan and a claim to be "dying!"

"What's wrong?" I asked. "It's not the morning! How can you be dying?"

"Just exhausted from tonight-- from the critique of my script and all that."

Narc lit a cigarette and sat on a stool at my kitchen counter. I rubbed my eyes and tried to listen to what he was saying. My brain was foggy and thick with sleep.

"I've really got to head back to bed," I said, when he had finished with his smoke.

We climbed into bed together, but again-- he left his underwear on. Fine. No sex. He did cuddle me though. I was back asleep within minutes.

This morning I woke up at 8:15 and got dressed. Then I walked up to my therapists office. When I got out, I spoke to Hammer on the phone and ate a bagel. It was early in Phoenix, where she is.

When I got back to my place, Narc was still in bed, but only half asleep. I took off my clothes and got in bed next to him. He put his arms around me possessively. I liked it. But I didn't like it enough. I felt unsettled. The good times are growing so few and far between that I just couldn't "scrap" the negative build-up from this weekend's quarrels. I know that "anonymous" (a few posts ago) commented that "nothing is changing," and maybe it's not... but something felt different this morning.

We ended up having sex and physically speaking, it was great sex. But I couldn't lose myself in it entirely. I felt uncomfortable. Especially after therapy. My therapist called him a "brute" and I couldn't forget that.

"Who threatens to leave a woman by herself, drunk at a bar in a distant neighborhood at 3:00 in the morning if she doesn't move by the time he finishes his cigarette? What kind of man is that?" she exclaimed.

I couldn't help but feel tense this morning-- even when he was inside of me. Perhaps, especially then. (And I think that's a good sign?)

Anyway, after that, I took a shower and he watched some TV. He told me my "internet" was broken. (Ah! Wiley-Hyde disconnected the cable just to be safe!) I acted as if I were confused about it and then plugged it back in.

"Oh... I guess the cable just pulled out," I said.

There's a tangle of wires around my computer anyway.

Then he took a shower and I ordered a pizza, as per his request. We hung out for a while longer and he called CouchSleeper on the phone. His maid service was coming and he wanted to make sure CouchSleeper was awake in order to let her in. Couchy must have asked where he was that he didn't come home the night before.

"Oh... uh, I'm at Hyde's in Midtown," he said. "I have analysis this afternoon on the Upper East and my screenwriter's meeting last night was in Midtown, so I figured it was easier to crash over here."

Is that why he wanted to stay over? Or is that just what he tells himself?

He told Couchy that he had a "meeting" at the Blue Goose later that evening.

"Well-- it's a personal meeting. Not a business meeting," I heard him say. "So feel free to join up, if you want, for a beer or two later."

Is that what he calls it when he gets together with a friend? A "MEETING?" Is that so that it seems professional? Obligatory? Meaningful? Purposeful?

Narc told me that he had been "out with the boys" all afternoon the day before. CouchSleeper is becoming a "cock-blocker" (as Hammer pointed out), and it's annoying. Couchy is plugging up Narc's loneliness, so he and I have been taken down a notch.

And then, guess what? Here comes the clincher... As he was getting ready to go, he asked to borrow money again. I really don't like this. He must be having major problems with his mother if she is tightening the purse strings, but I don't like this being a new trend. I have so much trouble saying no to anything he asks, and he knows it.

"It would only be for a day," he said. "I'll have more in there tomorrow afternoon and I can give it back to you tomorrow."

"You promise? Because I really don't have a lot of money, Narc. I'm on a low income right now."


"Yeah! All of it back tomorrow-- including the other $80."

"Well... okay."

I gave him another hundred dollars.

"I'll call you later," he smiled as he left.

I'm not stupid. I felt a little used after this exchange.

But still... it's NARC-- the same boy that I've been loving for nearly two years now. So it's hard to be cold about it. And at least we didn't fight this time, right?

I'm going to get my money back tomorrow and then after that just act really poor so that I put an end to this.

I have cabaret class tonight.
I'm looking forward to it.

I feel like a dumb-ass. A tired dumb-ass. So, if you were planning on commenting on this post by calling me a "dumb-ass," don't bother. The point is already taken.

-h-

Chewing on a Straw

As I sit here, I'm chewing on a straw-- a red bar room straw.

My eyes are tired and my heart is tight.

24 night with B was just wonderful. He left at around 10:00 (when the show ended) and I was getting set for bed. Then I got a text from BarMan:

Did u by any chance tape 24 2nite?

I told him that I had it saved on the cable box but that I could transfer it onto a tape and bring it over to Cheers in an hour if they would still be open.

yeah, but don't go out of ur way :) he said.

I made the tape for him and walked it over. There was a fat guy named Dave and a drunk girl named Nancy in the bar. Otherwise, it was empty. BarMan was grateful for the tape. Nancy was grilling him about ThursdayGirl. She rushed up to me when she saw that BarMan and I are friends.

"Is ThursdayGirl his girlfriend?!?!" she squealed.

"You'll have to ask him," I said.

I ordered a Bailey's on the rocks. BarMan told me it was on him. He asked me to lock the door, so I did. He was readying to close up shop. Then there was a knock on the door. It was PumpedUp's dad (the owner of the bar). I went to talk to him. He pulled me aside and told me that my Super (his good friend) could "use a friend in the building." I will have to investigate what that's about. I sense myself becoming embroiled in some building politics due to my Cheers allegiance and the solid friendship between PumpedUp's dad and my Super.

I only had the one drink, but felt edgy and unsettled. I probably never should have left the house. Perhaps I would have fallen asleep. Oh well...

As I took myself home, the feeling just got worse. Waiting for the elevator I thought of Narc. I love him; I hate him; I want so badly to be done with him. He humiliates me. I know that his screenwriter's group was reading his script tonight. I know that he was in Midtown. I sent him a text. (Damn it! Why? You don't even want to see him! You just want to know that he's THERE!)

How did your script go over? I wrote.

I did not expect a reply. I sat down to write this post, still chewing on the straw from my single glass of Bailey's. Still chewing on the straw. As I wrote, my phone began to vibrate against the desk. (Still chewing on the straw). He wrote back.

Still in Midtown. Call in 5.

Why did I open that can of worms? Should I pick up when he calls? Do I have a choice? I'm going to put my pajamas on. I can't let this straw out of my mouth. If I do, I might chew off all of my finger nails. And what would I be left to type with but bloody stumps?

What am I anxious about? Why is the night time so hard for me when I try to behave like a normal person?

My jaw is tight.

No-- scrap that.

My chest is tight.

-h-

"The Winds of Change and the Weeds of Sex"

This weekend flew by. And even though it's Monday, it's strangely quiet now. Hammer is in Phoenix for the week, and CouchSleeper is staying with Narc, seeming to have upset whatever delicate chemistry had the two of us spending more time together. Even Drippy is out of town, leaving B available for an "old school" 24-night tonight. (I might just wear my "Jack Bauer" T-shirt!)

Friday was a tough day for me. It took a lot of stamina to get through. I foolishly stayed out late on Thursday night (in the bar with CouchSleeper and Narc) and still felt the alcohol coursing through my veins when I arrived to teach on Friday morning. Six hours and a few gallons of water later I had to head straight to Penn Station (in rush hour, no less!) to get home in time for my mom's party.

With barely time to eat, I was cranky upon my arrival. But LilSis and mom were excited and rushing about the house in preparation, which started to get me into the right mood for the occasion. I helped LilSis with her makeup, and even though I didn't have time to shower, started to feel refreshed just from the change of clothes and re-combing of my hair.

The party was held at a colonial inn/catering hall (where George Washington once stayed). The centerpieces that I had been working on all week long looked perfect and my mom was so excited. She had her sweet sixteen in 1961, so the theme of the party was late '50s/early '60s music. Each table was named for a particular artist and we had a whole number of events laid out for the night ahead. I wrote a song for my mom to the tune of Heartbreak Hotel and I passed out the lyrics and brought the karaoke track. My sisters organized a ladies vs. men sing-off of two doo-wop songs; Bro-in-Law led a hand-jive contest. He and his sister have "Danny" and "Cha-Cha's" dance from Grease memorized and they entertained the crowd on the dance floor. I was laughing hysterically. While everyone was eating dinner, I took the mic and entertained with some smoky torch songs from the era (like "Misty" and "Cry me a River.") All in all, it was a great night. My mom's friend, Prissy, came in a poodle skirt. My cousin (who's all of seven years old) came with his hair spiked, wearing a huge gold cross.

"Don't I look like JBC?!?!" he insisted.

It was too cute.

Everyone was in the right spirit for the party and it was all just right. The only rub-- the W-family was there and HW and LW got pretty drunk. I didn't drink at the party and it made me feel funny to see them red-faced and changed by the alcohol. LW told me he had nearly finished off a bottle of Jameson by himself the night before. I don't want to be like that.

My mom had a candle-lighting at the party, and my stepbrother actually got up and walked to the cake to light a candle! Granted, he had a walker in one hand and my stepfather supporting him on the other side, but he made it by putting one foot forward and dragging the "paralyzed" side behind. Everyone was in tears. My mom later asked my stepfather:

"Were you crying because you were sad or were you crying because you were happy?"

"Sad with one eye, happy with the other," he said.

My heart was hurting.

At nearly midnight, I headed home with my parents. Hammer texted me a few times. She was out with Maximus and Mohawk in what would turn out to be a very eventful night for her! She wanted me to come out and join them at a bar, but I had to remind her that I was on Long Island. By the time my head hit the pillow that night, I was tired enough to pass out. Insomniac-Hyde was asleep within five minutes!

I didn't wake up until nearly noon the next day. My mom had prepared a huge breakfast-- chocolate chip pancakes and bagels with all the trimmings. (I had mine with Nova. Yum!) I hung out with LilSis, JBC and my stepbrother, watching TV and joking around until around 4:00 in the afternoon when I headed back into the city. It was raining and I was carrying a million and one packages.

On my way into the building (at around 6:30 pm), I bumped into NDN who was going to meet his sister before prepping for the dinner party that night. I called TT and told him to meet me at NDN's place at 9:00 pm. Then I went home to shower and "decompress."

NDN's dinner party was a great time, although I was in a very strange mood. I was hyper-aware that I was drinking and I was anxious about the TT situation. So, it was a little difficult for me to have a carefree spirit about everything. Bezoukhoff's girlfriend was very sweet. There was no lull in the conversation and I was impressed with NDN's "fancy" frosted brownies. TT seemed to be getting on well enough with everyone, but I was somehow aware that it was our "last" date, even as everything was going okay. He explained to me that he had been sick and that his parents had been in town, as if to say "That's why I haven't been around the past few weeks." But who are we kidding? He hadn't been around for the same reason that I hadn't been around-- a lack of chemistry. I was reasonably sure that neither of us was that interested in the other.

At one point, I sang for everyone. It's only worth noting because I have never sung a B-flat that fully before. I felt it vibrating through my face, in the "mask," in my bones, and my abdomen pushed outwards and down providing a support that I rarely manage to achieve. I was sure that the note would bring the walls down and it was exhilarating! I loved it.

Later, there was a bit of "to-do" about whether or not NDN would put on his infamous pirate patch. He and I had a stupid (alcohol-fueled) spat about it and I went back to my apartment. TT came with me. Perhaps it was all a pretense to get him alone. I had to say what I had to say. So I did.

I really don't want to recount this in all its detail, but I told him the truth-- the whole truth. I told him about Narc; I told him that it's stressful for me to start something new because I'm trying to face the drinking thing in a more head-on way. I told him more than that, too... things I don't even want to write here. I was definitely drunk or I never would have done it. I'm glad that I did.

"It's all right to tell me things," he said. "I don't know where things are going with us, and it seems like the last thing you need is some other guy fucking you with no relationship attached."

"You could say that... It's why I've been a little distant... I mean, why I haven't felt like I could totally be myself."

"I'm really attracted to you," he said. "And I think you're an awesome lady." (I HATE it when he says "lady!") "But I don't know if there's anything there yet either."

"So let's just be friends for now?" I asked.

"Sure."

He gave me a big hug and I felt an enormous rush of relief. I no longer have to be dodging his sexual advances. Now, I don't know if we're going to "be friends," but does it matter? I don't particularly feel like calling him. I think I may just let this one go.

Meanwhile, Narc had started texting me in the middle of the evening and we had been corresponding all throughout this time.

Narc (11:24 pm): How was the Sweet 60 party?
Hyde: It was great. How are you?
Narc: Good. Chillin'. May hit Patriot in a bit.
Hyde: Cool. Will you be out late?
Narc: Not sure. What are you up to?
Hyde: Half date/half dinner party but making it my business to be free later...
Narc: Call or text when you're out, perhaps a rendezvous at the Patriot.
Hyde: Would love to meet up.

Hyde (12:47 am): What's up now?
Narc: Still in, though may head out soon. What up?
Hyde: Finishing here soon...
Narc: Let me know if you feel like heading down.
Hyde: I do. Give me a little time to get out...
Narc: Let me know when you're near.
Hyde (1:13 am): Coming soon...

So, there it is... I left NDN's at around 1:30 am (with only Bezoukhoff and his girlfriend still there) and I headed down to meet Narc. On the way there, I gossiped on the phone with Hammer. She was stressed about going to Phoenix in the middle of all her boy drama, and about the fact that Mohawk hadn't contacted her to get together.

"Just press the pause button!" I told her.

I was still on the phone with her when I got to Narc's lobby. I waited in a chair while the doorman buzzed him to come down.

There he came, rounding the corner from the elevator area into the lobby, walking briskly towards the door. What? No stopping for me? No greeting? No pause?

"Hammer, I gotta go!" I leaped up and chased him out the door.

"Wait up, Narc! Stop walking so fast!"

He was still three strides ahead of me. I had to break into a half-jog to keep up.

"I can't run!" I complained. "I'm drunk, and only wearing flip flops! Wait up!"

"You don't have socks on?" He glanced back at me incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'm not cold."

When we got to the Patriot we took a seat by the door. I told Narc I had to go to the ATM and he ordered me a drink. The waitress was giving us doubles for only $4.75!!! (It seems they change their prices there every time we go!) I was determined not to get too drunk, though, so I sipped mine very slowly with water. Narc seemed edgy and in a bad mood. He asked me how the date was.

"It was okay," I said. "I needed to clear some things up with this guy, and tonight I did."

"Wait-- you mean this is the same guy as you had been seeing? Lasagna boy? He's persistent!"

"Yeah, I guess. Whatever... It was getting to be enough dates that I had to explain why I didn't want to sleep with him--that I'm not emotionally available. And that's that. The dinner party was fun, though."

"Why not?" he challenged.

"Because I'm emotionally invested elsewhere," was my pointed reply.

I think this whole conversation put him into an even worse mood. I sometimes don't know which he would prefer-- if I slept with TT or not! Anyway, the evening continued to sour. It soured and then it began to rot!

Some really drunk guy came and sat next to me. He was funny and asked me for a kiss on the cheek. I complied. I'm sure Narc didn't like that. Call it a bad drunk-judgment call on my part. This guy kept asking me to smack him in the ass. I said "no" laughingly for a while, but he kept coming back. Finally I gave him a whack.

"Leave her alone!" Narc said.

Was he defending me? His mood was worsening.

Narc said he ran out of money and I started paying for his drinks. The bar staff switched over and the new waitress started charging us $8.75 for the drinks.

"What? The other waitress was only charging us $4!" I said.

"Whatever, Hyde. It's not a big deal," Narc told me.

"It is. I don't have a lot of money."

"I thought you just went to the ATM."

"I did, but I don't have a lot of money in the ATM, Narc!"

The drunk guy told us that he designs video games and that he worked for Capcom-- on the original design for Streetfighter. (Narc said it meant this guy was old.) He had some kind of gaming system with him and Narc started playing Streetfighter on it. I was touching Narc's leg. He was still being cold and unresponsive to my advances.

The drunk guy offered to buy us tequila shots and before we could refuse, the shots arrived. Narc did his, but I really didn't want mine. I had been drinking vodka the whole time at NDN's and had since switched to whiskey. I don't drink tequila to begin with, and I certainly wasn't going to go for it on a stomach full of mixed alcohol. So I left the shot there. On Narc's other side, a lonely old man was drinking at the bar. He had been there sadly and quietly drinking all night. I decided to offer him my shot.

"Excuse me, sir! Do you want this shot?"

He didn't seem to hear me.

"Sir?"

"DON'T DO THAT!" Narc snapped at me.

I was taken aback.

"What? Why not?"

"You don't offer other people your drink!!!"

"Why not? I don't want it."

"You just don't. I mean it could be poisoned or something."

"Narc! Why would I poison that guy?"

"Ugh! It's bad etiquette, Hyde!"

He rolled his eyes in disgust and sort of turned away from me. Why was he so upset about this? Who knows. But it was the start of a slew of criticisms. After that, it seemed like nothing I could say or do was right. I was sure that he hated me. (I really think that in a lot of ways, he does.)

"I don't need lessons in etiquette, Narc," I protested. "I'm not the socially awkward one."

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have said that. But I didn't like being yelled at and admonished like that!

Anyway, like I said, it went from bad to worse. At one point Narc was telling me some story and I was leaning on the bar, propped up on my elbows, looking at him while he spoke.

"Stop looking at me like that!" he exclaimed, out of nowhere.

"Like what?" I was truly taken aback.

"Like that! You're staring at me! STOP STARING AT ME!"

"What? Narc?!?! I'm not staring at you! I'm just looking at you while you're talking."

"You're staring and I can't stand it. You do it all the time! Stop it! It's giving me the creeps!"

"What are you talking about?"

I felt so utterly attacked and for absolutely no reason. I wasn't staring at him at all. I don't know what was wrong with him or why he was so angry at me. But there was nothing I could do to avoid his criticism. It was flung at me even while I sat there silently listening. I decided to try to make light of it.

"I don't know, Narc. Maybe I just like looking at you!" I smiled. "Because I like you."

"I CAN'T STAND IT!" he snapped. "You know that I lived on camera. I don't like being looked at like that."

What the fuck was this about?!?!

"Okay, okay... I'm sorry," I said.

I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. I wasn't sure what to do.

"I didn't mean to upset you or make you uncomfortable. I really, REALLY didn't mean to upset you!" I was pleading with him to let up.

"Whatever..."

He went on talking, but now I felt helpless. I didn't know where to look or what to say or how to react or what to do. I felt like whatever I would say or do would be the wrong thing-- the wrong move. So I was immobilized. I just sat there at the bar, tightly sipping my drink, my arms pinned to my sides, my gaze directed away from Narc. I felt the tears coming lightly-- just one or two leaking out to stream down my cheeks.

"Ugh! Now you're crying again! Damn it!"

I did the wrong thing again. I felt so trapped. I felt frozen.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm gonna take off."

He started to gather his things.

"Wait-- WHAT? You're leaving? Can't you wait for me to finish my drink?"

"I'm going home, Hyde."

"And you're not inviting me?"

"I'm just not in the mood," he said. "I'm not in the mood to deal with all.... THIS!" He waved his arm in a gesture towards me.

"But it's after last call! You're going to leave me drunk in a bar at 4:30 in the morning a block from your place when I came down here specifically to see you?"

"Um, yeah..."

"Narc! When have we ever done that?!?! What the fuck? There's no precedent for that! We ALWAYS go home together! I don't care if you don't want to fuck me... fine. But at least let me stay at your house! When have we ever been like that?"

"Thursday night ," he fired back.

"Yeah, but that's different," I argued. "First of all, I had to get up the next morning at 7:00 am to teach. Second of all, we agreed in advance that I wouldn't be staying over."

"So?"

"Narc! I came to your neighborhood and I've been buying you drinks all night!"

"I've paid for your drinks before."

"Yeah, but you owe me $80 in cash."

"You're gonna call me on that now? What's your point?"

"No, I'm not going to call you on that. I'm just saying... You've been criticizing me all night; I came to you; I paid for you... And now you're kicking me out?"

"Whatever Hyde. Let's go. Just, c'mon!"

I followed him out of the bar.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad before," I said.

"It's fine. I know you didn't mean to. Just don't wake up CouchSleeper."

I was too emotionally exhausted to think too much about why I wanted to go home with Narc as opposed to getting out of it then and there.

When we got to his place, the living room was darkened, CouchSleeper's stuff was scattered everywhere, and Couchy himself lay asleep on the couch. Narc quickly ushered me into the bedroom where he followed me with some cigarettes and an ashtray. I leaned up against his heater; he sat in his desk chair, and we chatted and smoked... smoked and chatted. I pretended that everything was fine. Scrap it for now, Hyde. I told myself. Process tomorrow.

We didn't stay up that much longer. It was after 5:00, so we crawled into bed. Narc left his boxers on. Ugh! The underwear politics again. I was in no mood for it. I was just sick of gauging his moods, his wishes, his "underwear" implications. I wasn't going to play the "punishing" underwear game. What was his point? That he didn't want to fuck me? Fine! So I stripped naked, like I usually do.

Lo and behold, the underwear came off. Ten minutes later we were fucking. After the fucking, he went back into "punishment" mode. No cuddling, no soothing, no rest. Just a back turned to me in the dark. I was physically and mentally wiped out, though, and I couldn't care less. Fuck it.

The next morning I woke up from the ringing of my cell phone and a hard Narc pressed into my side. I tried to initiate something with him, and he got into it at first, but then he seemed to want to stay asleep. Fine. I wasn't going to stick around until 3:00 pm when he deigned to get up. I got out of bed and threw my clothes on. My hair was uncombed and unruly; my eyes were smudged with liner and circled with rubbed and faded mascara. I looked a mess. I thrust my hands into my coat pockets and looked down at him. He was snoring-- pretending to be in a deeper sleep than he was.

"I'm going now," I said rather loudly. "I'm taking off."

"What?" He opened his eyes in surprise.

And I left.

Back at my place, I called B. I knew he would be getting out of church soon, and he was. We agreed to meet at a Chinese place a few blocks from me. He brought me a palm from the service.

The weather was beautiful and B made me laugh. It all felt like a clean breeze sweeping into the crevices of my cobwebbed soul. We decided to go to the movies at Union Square (he also had to pick something up at the Circuit City there.) We saw Thank you for Smoking, which I thoroughly enjoyed, laughing loudly at several points. It was just what I needed. B is always so grounding to me. I always feel more myself, more sturdy when I'm with him. And it makes me wonder how I get lost so easily in the blackness, the booze, the drama. We hung out together until around 5:00 pm when he had to go tutor and I headed home, finally affording myself some quiet time after the whirlwind weekend.

The rest of the night, I just relaxed. I talked to Shorty on the phone, ate some spaghetti and bummed around with NDN, watching Family Guy.

And that brings us to today. I'm teaching this morning, but not the rest of the week-- we have Spring Break. I need to do some "spring cleaning" in my life. Narc and I are rotting-- we are so clearly going bad, and we never had it good. But we used to have passion. Now there's only strain. It's not good. Sometimes things change even when we don't take action to change them. Sometimes things run their course. We shall see...

Yeah, I miss you when the place got wrecked

By the winds of change and the weeds of sex

Looks like freedom but it feels like death

It's something inbetween I guess

It's CLOSING TIME