Laying in bed, I was thinking about that time that kent and I were on the beach walking in companionable sullen resignation: it wasn't working. He threw a pebble randomly at some seagulls - clocked one. We thought it was dead and did all of the reactions one would do. Five beats later, it flew up again.
I have distracted myself from writing about brian. He's the last one. After that, they're all exorcized. Have I ever written about him to you before? The one who cracked me or was there when I cracked or whatever. Basically, after I walked home with him from the box of soap, my fate was sealed - by whomever.
I want to get it over with, but I know I won't do it correctly. Writing never can convey every nuance. I've tried to write it four or five times - never publishing it - never getting it right - how much of it was myth and how much was real. Towards the end, I even began to think I was bored with him - although it was he that ran from my gleaming matron fire. hooey.
Anyhoo, let's just do this. So, prefacing, marriage was my big thing. I was never going to get a divorce. It was the only thing I'd never fucked up. I thumbed my perfection of a mate in my own face. i had pride. I picked well. I have excellent taste. mark is extremely worthy of love and every good thing on the planet, and I think I did him horribly wrong... of course.
Basically, never in ten billion years ladies was I going to fuck up my marriage. I flirted like a mofo. I danced. I sang. It didn't matter. For me, I would be married to the same man forever. He was a keeper the gem.
Had a dream about my lab partner. I had gone back to school to become a teacher to save the world one child at a time. I was really going to care about them. Had never taken a lab science in college - had to pick one up. brian was my lab partner. thought he was 21 years old. cute and very smart. never thought of him again.
Fast forward one or two years, last film party (cuculorus) I would ever attend as I was leaving to join husband in months. See lab partner brian talking to zach. thought it noteworthy and odd and walked up with the line "weren't you my lab partner?" turns out, he's only a year younger than me and had huge crush on me. the night melted away. we spoke as if we were beings made of light and atoms. a friend insisted he walk me home as suddenly noticed bar was closed. he did. he freaked me out when he finished a strange tangent that was in my head that I voiced aloud. I do this sort of thing all the time, and only mike usually gets them. it was a line fragment from a pixies song.
I was under control. I was married. I was safe. I said so. I had said so at the box of soap when he seemed rather into me. I said that we could be whatever we wanted but that I wanted to presumptiously mention that I was married. he seemed chagrinned, but we went back to communicating. who cared about consumation. do you all remember the thrill of that rare meeting with someone that you can talk to like water and feel it?
He clicked his heels in pleasure on the way home. I was confident and brash. I had morters of society and rules and years under my rings. I invited him in. I was truly curious to have this beautiful being judge my chosen home.
It was likely three am. We were sober of alcohol. We talked. It was there. It was not there before, and then it appeared. I loved him. fuck.
I had read anais nin just weeks before. I had been reading like a fiend since I was unemployed and waiting to move to california to join my steady fabulous husband with whom I had built a life I thought could never be torn asunder.
shit happens. brian made me believe in the x factor.
so many things. spring happened the day after I met him - as in frogs sang and pollen burst. i continued writing narsissi thinking that love was truly magnificent. it would work out. i loved mark. i loved brian. how easy it would be. we would love and love would rule and love and pinkness and sweet jesus the passion.
so, i kissed him that night. just kissed him. the sun came up. he was everything right. yet, my entire fucking fuck fuck life was invested in another person - NOT brian. Yet, fuckety fuck fuck... what could I do? when you feel love, you can't turn it off.
so, i went nuts and danced at all hours of the nights and had tons of friends call the crazy cops on me, and i told them all i would get a divorce and that i hated it and would they help me and did they know what love was and being rather an emotional existential reader and a romantic, I cried every time I crossed castle street and new that i was fucking up other people's lives and that things would hit the fan and that I was probably crazy but that i couldn't deny this or i would explode and that just maybe maybe maybe I could get the safe cracked before the countdown that blew the planet apart hit zero...
I got drunk a lot and went out to see people. I couldn't stand being alone in that house. no one ever called me. I was alone and scared shitless and pretty much fucked.
brian ran ran ran.
the last time i went to him was when my sister was in town. It was a full moon and buddha's birthday. i made love to him and cried and had an orgasm (i've probably only had four in my life un-masturabatory ((see father))) and laughed and felt like i had been right to follow love and throw everything to chance and risk it all for this man - whether or not i was right or wrong or what.... my sister called me for lunch. I was still in bed with my lover. I had not slept save an hour. Begged my sister (who was with her friend visiting for some nurse thing) to let me postpone lunch. She insisted.
Four hours later - I was screaming like a madwoman on my lawn telling my fucking sister with her matching socks and shirts and ironed jeans and husband who ran over her clothes to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. Two hours later (with friend's husbands posted on streetcorners), I was drug from my own house by police officers and carted up to the crazy house.
If you can believe it, I even had the balls to show my face after I returned from crazyland. It was that or sit in my house alone. Strangers in bars didn't judge me like my friends did, and hey, they even talked to me. I won a lot of rounds of pool. Finally my prey showed up.
I was abashed because I had been publically called a fucking nutter. His friend said "how could someone with such beautiful eyes be crazy?". It's funny how you cling to such things and remember them.
I tried, but I was broken. He ran ran ran.
I came to los angeles to face my husband. I couldn't give him falseness. I divorced him and didn't get put in a nuthouse but lost so so so much.
Now I sit alone in my apartment by the ocean and think how important it is to realize that I think i'm nothing and not worthy of love because at least that's a start.
I pass a glass blowing shoppe on the way home from buying cigarettes sometimes. They have jellyfish in the window and i think of how brian wanted to make them and i wryly smile like an eighty year old woman.
i will stop now. i am crying and have no idea why no one ever jumps with me, but apparently everyone else sees what a loon i am from miles away... and i'm oh so sorry for trikcing them into taking the bait.