I am myself my own fever...

Again, written in pieces... by a tired, tired girl.

Part I: Written on Wednesday afternoon:

Well, I don't have much time and I have a lot to tell. And I'm still not quite capable of processing everything that has happened in the past few days, but in the interest of preserving my later sanity when it comes to maintaining this blog, I'll attempt to get started...

I left you all off on Thursday night when I went downtown (alone) and hung out in a piano bar until nearly 4:00 am. That night, I hardly slept a wink. I had to wake up bright and early the next morning to catch the train to Stony Brook for my visit with GoldenFinch.

Despite the fact that we have been friends for 10 years and were "best friends" for a few years in college, and despite the fact that she lives only two hours away, I hadn't seen her since July, 2005. I think that the primary reason that I was avoiding her is that she found out about her pregnancy a month after I did, and was able to celebrate hers, whereas I could not. I have a lot of negative feelings about the choice that I made (not that I would ever choose otherwise, even now... but it hurts to have to have done what I did) and as such, I think that some of it was coming out as resentment at GoldenFinch. Of course, none of that is her fault, and I certainly didn't want to be negative about her news, so I put off the visit.

Now her baby is 5 1/2 months old. I finally felt ready for the visit, and I couldn't wait to meet him. I have so much love in my heart for her, and my heart was brimming at the thought of her with a baby!

But, it was hard. And it wasn't helped by the fact that Narc had been ignoring my texts the night before. When I woke up that morning, he had finally answered me:

Sorry, he wrote. Meeting ran from 7 to midnight, then to sleep right after. Call later.

Nevermind the fact that I had been texting him from 10:00 pm to 2:00 am consistently. He could have written a quick note to tell me he would be staying in.

I wrote back: It's ok. Was rough, but I ended up having an adventure... All's well that ends well. Sounds like you are in productive mode. Must be nice after being sick...

He answered quickly: Much to do, may be going to Russia tomorrow for week or so, we'll see. Visa etc. quite a hassle...!

Ugh... Even with all of that though... the bond between us is so intense to me... so real... but at the same time, he never allows it to be hardened, to be labeled. I'm always left on ground that's not solid. (Yes! All that is solid melts into air!) So, somehow, that baby represented a bond to me... and I let it go. So, while I was on the train out to Stony Brook, I had to say something about it.

I think I was feeling so weird last night b/c today I am going to Stony Brook to meet my friend's baby who is only 1 mo younger than ours would have been. Sometimes I hate how sensitive i am. Anyway, have fun in Russia if you go. Let me know if you're leaving town...

I was sort of surprised when he answered: Was a different life, back then. Doing my best to write off the past five years and look to the future: new career, life, etc. Let you know if I head out...

Well, that made me sad... Very sad.

You're right. Was a different life, but it was my life. I have no regrets. I'm sad that you do. But, here's to the future... for you and me both. :)

My sadness quickly dissipated, however, when I disembarked the train and found GoldenFinch waiting with the most adorable baby bundle I've ever seen. He was pouting and quite Brahmsian, if I do say so myself. I sat in the back, just to be close to the baby, while GoldenFinch drove us to a nearby nature preserve. She looked beautiful-- not as haggard as I had seen her in recent years. Even though she was stressed out with all of the new responsibilities, she had that "glow" about her (and her breasts were huge too!).

Part II: Written Thursday afternoon:

Anyway... back to my day with GoldenFinch! Like I said-- she looked great and the baby was adorable. We went walking through the fields and the day was perfectly crisp with a biting chill--just as October should be. It's always a little colder out east than it is here in the city, so the leaves were already turning. It was beautiful.

After our walk, we headed back to her house where I chatted with her while she nursed the baby and then we took the baby down to the piano and sang some of our old standard duets-- Lift Thine Eyes (which is actually a trio... we were missing Contessa on the middle part), Belle Nuit, and the Flower Duet from Lakme. Then we sang through a few movements of Mozart's Requiem-- Benedictus, Hostias and Agnus Dei, all of which I clumsily played on the piano. The baby started to get fussy though, so we eventually had to stop.

Before long, her husband arrived home from work with burgers and we sat and talked and ate and they fed the baby. When GoldenFinch went up to give the baby a bath, I ended up chatting with her husband for a while. I hope he doesn't think I'm too crazy. Then he headed up to bed, and GoldenFinch showed me pictures from her sister's wedding before driving me back to the train.

The train ride home was tough. I began to sink deeper and deeper into depression. All I could think of was wanting. I was exhausted beyond belief and emotionally overwhelmed. I decided to call my sponsor. I have been feeling resistant towards my sponsor lately (she doesn't exactly tell me what I want to hear), but that phone call helped. At Mineola station, a bunch of college kids got on the train, on their way to the city to party. They were acting like total jackasses, taking up the whole train car, passing around bottles of vodka and shouting things like "booze!" At first, I felt really hostile towards them, but I was able to turn my thinking around and to feel grateful that I've freed my life from that sort of stupidity.

That night, I was happy to just collapse into bed. I was asleep before 1:00 am.

At 2:30 in the morning, my phone buzzed. Was it Narc? No. It was Brick.

Part III: Written on Friday afternoon

Brick wanted to know if I wanted to come downtown and meet him at the Monster. He promised to pay for my cab and a late night snack if I came. I really shouldn't have gone, as I had been sick all week, and had collapsed into bed in utter exhaustion that night, but old habits die hard, I guess. The next thing I knew, I was hauling myself out of bed in the dead of the night and coating my eyelashes with mascara.

By the time I got down to Monster, though, the crowd was dead and kind of shady. We decided to go to Marie's Crisis instead, where I quickly amasses a number of fans with my singing. There was another girl there who I could tell was jealous of me once I opened my mouth, so at first I was singing pretty quietly. I have to ask myself, though-- why do I do that? Why was I diminishing my own talent for the sake of protecting some random girl's ego? When I realized it, I tried to be a little more bold, but I still felt guilty for coming in and stealing that girl's thunder. Some drunk British guy with a beard kissed my cheek and requested that I sing "Bill" from Showboat. My voice was really on that night. Brick said I sounded my best. Even the waitstaff there came over to me with compliments. It was a real ego boost.

After that, Brick and I went for a late night meal at a nearby diner. At nearly 5:00 am, I looked at my watch and had to wonder what was wrong with the two of us that we were gallivanting around the West Village at that hour, even in sobriety! Brick wanted to stop at his place and pick up Lucy, but I told him that I wanted to go straight home. He agreed, arranging for Bikram to walk Lucy in the morning, and he came with me back to my place. I put Ugly Betty on TV for him, washed off my makeup and hoped to get some shut-eye before sunrise.

Brick got up ahead of me on Saturday morning and played around on gay.com on my computer. I had to ready myself for a trip to the opera with Bezoukhoff. B was nice enough to get us discount tickets to see Die tote Stadt at City Opera-- third row orchestra! The opera was amazing.

The music wasn't particularly complex-- something of a mix between Strauss and Puccini, but the story was wonderful. A man obsessed with his dead wife keeps a shrine to her, including a death mask and a long braid of her hair. He then hires an actress who looks just like his wife and he tries to put the mask on her and dresses her in his wife's shawl and asks her to play his wife's lute. Then there's a creepy ghost scene in which his wife appears. What comes next is a prolonged hallucination in which the protagonist murders his friend and then strangles the actress who is seductively dancing around the stage whipping the wife's braid, strangling her with that very braid itself. Can you think of anything more creepy and decadent? I loved it!

Anyway, I've been trying to feel more grateful lately, and my trip to the opera helped in that regard. I was able to think about how lucky I am to have the luxury of picking up and going to the opera on a random Saturday and how lucky I am to be able to appreciate the music... that I have an aptitude for that.

After the show, Bezoukhoff and I walked over to the Juilliard bookstore and looked around. It was so sweet. He insisted on buying me some sheet music, despite my protests. I got Rachmaninoff's Vocalises, a clean copy of the Song to the Moon from Rusalka (which, Bezoukhoff pointed out, we had to buy, as I was a mermaid once...) and a Purcell song called I Attempt from Love's Sickness to Fly.

(The lyrics are perfect: "I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain/ Since I am myself my own fever and pain./ No more now, fond heart, with pride no more swell,/ Thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel./ For love has more power and less mercy than fate./ To make us seek ruin and on those that hate.")

After Juilliard, we walked over to Barnes & Noble and strolled around for a while before heading over to Peter's for dinner. After dinner, we hit the Cafe Mozart. It was turning out to be a really lovely evening. My sister and Bro-in-Law were babysitting their niece and nephew that night and the five year old called me "just to say hi" while we were eating. I adore those kids, so that really put a smile on my face.

But all the while, and no matter how wonderful things were, I couldn't silence my pounding heart or quivering stomach, full of anxiety over Narc. Sometimes I think I'm just a sick, sick girl. So, I texted him.

I'm at the cafe Mozart pretending to be Viennese. What are you up to?

Narc: Writers, drinking. How's the cafe? Have they a harpsichord?

Hyde: A pianist & saxophone. Alas! Not historically accurate. Opera was great though. Must tell you about it. Have fun & call me later...

Narc: Which opera did you see?

Hyde: Die tote stadt. Awesome.

Anyway, Bezoukhoff and I finished off our coffee and dessert and he took me home. Back at my place, I sang for him for a little while and he showed me a few oddities on YouTube. I was exhausted, though, and by midnight had to head to sleep.

The next thing I knew, it was 4:00 am and I opened my eyes. All I could think of was Narc.

I bet he's drunk right now, I thought. I bet he's stumbling home from somewhere with his writer friends. I wonder if he's gonna call me.

Sick, though it is, I sent him a text. It was 4:10.

Closing time... ;) I wrote.

(What kind of message is that for a sober woman to send???) Of course, he answered.

So come down, came the reply.

I jumped out of bed and readied myself the best I could. By 4:45, I was crossing Canal Street.

Almost there. Don't fall asleep! I wrote, in light of what had happened the previous weekend.

The next few days with him changed everything. But, this post is taking longer that I thought, and so, I think I'll give it a part two and finish writing either tonight or on Sunday.

That's it for now.

I am sad. Dreadfully sad, and with no idea on how to get out of it.

With Sturm und Drang,

hyde