Not Tonight, Dear

by

I have a headache.

Serious.

If I was dating someone I would not be having sex right now.

I might be curled up in a fetal position asking for some cold ice water and a few ibuprofen.

But not blog?

Fuck, I can’t quite do it.

I am tired, which is most to do with a couple of back to back long shifts, but hey, you know what, rent, she is paid.

I made enough in the last few days to cover rent for the next month and have a few bills left over to do a little grocery shopping.

And next week I have full-time work as well.

Plus, I confirmed that I do indeed have an interview on Sunday for a possible position.

I still think they are going to pass on my services, but whatever, take the action, let go of the results.

Which should be the thematic for tonight’s blog.

Take the action let go the results.

I feel the results might be shite, but I write nonetheless.

As I was standing at the N-Judah stop in Cole Valley I listened to the conversation of a trio of French men and thought, well, at least I don’t have to figure out what they are saying, although I sort of wanted to, then I wanted to wittily say something about the conversation they were having.

But they weren’t just French, they were Parisian and that accent and the rapidity of the words, not a conversation I was about to butt into, without making a complete ass of myself.

My tired self.

My tired head ache self.

God I don’t want to finish writing this.

I wonder if I am coming down with something.

I think, though, it is just the hallucinatory feeling of being tired and sort of wired at the same time.

The weekend is upon me and I wonder what I will be doing.

And whom I may be kissing.

OH.

My favorite J. Davis Trio song just came on, “Breath of a Tiny Dragon”.

My head ache could fade off a little here.

Nostalgia.

So much for this song and all the layers of memory and feelings I have when I hear it.

First, I love it, well, because the female doing the vocals sounds a bit like me, she’s doing more of a spoken word vibe then singing, and she does sound like me, or I like her.

There were people back in Madison that actually thought it was me.

I have had people here in San Francisco hear the song and think it was me.

Nope.

But I can certainly sing the hell out of this song.

I love me some J. Davis Trio.

Wish they would do a West Coast tour and bring it up North to San Francisco or even Oakland, anywhere Bay Area would be hella tight.

Shit, I might even go down to San Jo to catch them.

I digress.

My fingers feel funny.

I think maybe I am a little hungry?

Uh, hmm, yeah, duh, I am.

I haven’t eaten my little night snack.

I have such a routine around it though, I always write my blog before I have one last nibble and one last cup of tea.

It’s my ritual.

How the hell am I going to be in a relationship when my blog gets more action than I do?

I suppose I am jumping the gun a little on that one.

Hey!

The Mister’s horribly busy work week ended today.

I told myself, no expectations, no regrets, no resentments, no getting let down.

I do that, I get all worked up and excited and then the let down.

Nope.

I say he’s busy and will be taking the weekend to recover.

I can wait until Tuesday.

Oh yeah, and what was that epiphany I had at Burning Man?

I am the ball.

No more chasing.

The man knows where I live, heck he was the first man to be in my home, he helped move me in, he helped me put together the bed from Ikea, he kissed me on the mouth, soft, soft, sweet, sweet, like persimmons that surprise you with cream and cinnamon in their orange pumpkin hearts.

Sigh.

Head ache is waning.

Is it the ritual?

Is it the compilation of words, or is it now, good Ipod shuffle!

The Belbel Gilberto on the player.

Who knows.

Maybe, perchance, it is because the words pile up and I am relieved to see that I have committed to my commitment once again.

See, I would, oh Chet Baker, I do fall in love to easily too!

I fall in love too terribly hard, for love to ever last.

My heat should be well schooled, because I have been fooled in the past.

I fall in love so easily, I fall in love too fast.

See, easily distracted.

Or dehydrated.

Or tired.

Or sore.

Definitely a little sore too.

I did not actually ride my bicycle in to work today, I caught a ride in with my room-mate.  We hit Trouble for some morning coffee to celebrate a significant anniversary in her life and then she dropped me off at the first nanny gig in the Castro.

I walked from 19th and Sanchez to Cole and Frederick today.

That may also explain some of the fatigue.

I walked a lot, with both my boys, in strollers at different times and then just by myself, because, why, well, I like to walk.

I am on my bicycle so much that I like to take a day off once in a while, slow down, stop and smell the roses.

Or touch the tress.

Seriously.

I do not know what compelled me.

Yeah, I’m crying over you.

I’ll be your saviour steadfast and true.

I’ll come to your emotional rescue.

Is it cheating to just write down the song lyrics to the music I am listening to?

Who cares!

It is strangely applicable and soothing.

As soothing as the bark on the tree I stopped to touch.

I stopped, reached my hand out and looked up into the canopy of leaves, the dappling sun flashing through to throw shadows of dark green on the rich velvet grass.

I sighed and sniffed the air.

I think the Japanese tourists who walked by thought I was high on acid or something.

The girl giggled.

I just smiled back.

I can stop and pet a tree once in a while.

What?

They say, who “they” are is beyond me, but you know what I mean, that sex is the best cure for a headache, that having an orgasm will eradicate one.

The paradox, of course, being that you don’t want to strip down and get naked and intimate and sexy.

But you know what, my head ache is almost gone.

And my blog is done.

Nighty night.

 

I love you baby, and I always will.

Ever since I put your picture in a frame.

I love you baby, and I always will.

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