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