I walked up to Bean There for a bagel and some coffee.
I payed, got my latte, and walked over to the little island to put sugar/cinnamon in it (no, I do not like everything you like). The short, slight older woman that normally makes my bagel was kneeling, digging around in the plastic bags of lids and napkins. She stood up next to me and, while I stirred my drink, she told me about how the names of her coworkers are sometimes hard for her to understand and remember (she’s from Italy), so she makes up little nicknames for them. She asks their permission (all agree), and those are the names she uses. She said she had a nickname for me, and asked if I’d like to hear it.
I said sure, and she said “Mr. Green.” I laughed and told her she could definitely call me that.
She walked behind the counter and put the cream cheese on my bagel (she always puts too much, even when I ask her not to. I end up scraping a lot of it off when I get home.) She put the bagel in a bag, and said “sesame with cream cheese, for Mr. Green.”
I tipped my imaginary hat, took the bag, and walked out into the sun.
I completely spaced I had a massage appt. today.. she got on icb and reminded me, and I hurried over.
“How you feeling?” she asked, when I sat down.
“I’m kinda… sad,” I replied.
“Yeah, I definitely got that… do you not want to be here?”
“No no, it’s fine.. I’ll be ok.”
I spent the next 30 minutes or so face down on the table, periodically feeling tears trapped in my eyelashes. Then she had me on one side, then the other, then my back for the remaining hour.
I wouldn’t say I kept falling asleep, but I definitely kept going someplace else. Lots of half-dreamed scenarios playing themselves out on the backs of my eyelids. It was probably just what I needed. Someone else worrying about the physical me so I didn’t have to. I could go someplace where things didn’t hurt as much. It ended all too soon, and I was back to roughly the same place I was emotionally when I arrived. She said “you can just pay me and run out if you want..” I said that’s what I wanted, paid, and left.
On the way home 2 queens walked past me on the corner of Market and Sanchez.
“Ohhhh baby, would you look at that cute green hair. Come over here boy and let me play with yo green hair.”
When I didn’t turn around, her friend counseled “maybe he’s really blonde and just swims a lot, c’mon girl.”
so, I wrote my first song yesterday.. music, lyrics, etc. Unfortunately my current recording setup leaves a lot to be desired. I don’t think I really want anyone to hear the lyrics anyway as they’re stupid, melodramatic, self-indulgent crap, so I can be thankful I don’t have a working mic. And for some reason whenever I stick the pickup on my guitar and sit down in front of my mac, my fingers fumble, i lose all sense of rhythm, and things come out sounding like this.
bleah.
I know you don’t necessarily want to be reading this in my blog, but I want to write it someplace, and not in an email to you.. and for some reason ideas I have in my head for things I want to say to you get confused on the way from brain to lips.
I really hope you find the person you’re looking for. Someone who can give you all the things that are important to you. Someone from whom you’ll be willing to accept them.
It’s probably because we saw a double feature of sappy sentimental romantic films last night (actually it’s probably not because of this at all), but part of me desperately wants to believe you’ll at some point in the near future realize it was me all along.
Because even though you never thought I belonged to you, I always did.
