We’re leaving Tuesday at 5am. I leave you, dear blog, dear friends, for a week of swealtering heat, plenty of rum, food and fun!
Take care. I will miss you.
xxx
Départ mardi matin à 5 heures. Je vous laisse, cher blog, chers amis, pour une semaine remplie de rhum, de bonne bouffe et de plaisir, tout ça dans une chaleur démoniaque.
Prenez soin de vous. Vous me manquerez.
Je vous embrasse xxx
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It’s been five days.
I’m in a bad spot, I won’t reply.
Now, you reply.
Now, you reach out.
I reach you. I reply.
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How many days this time?
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How deep can the division be.
Between.
night and day
real and dream
written and said
thought and meant
How long can I keep the walls from closing in.
On me.
How long before your ghosts wake me.
Wake me.
This is stop and go at it’s most cruel state.
Moving on and leaving so much behind.
Staying and waiting and hoping.
The divison, the duality.
So close, the wall paper thin.
As I lay my face on it.
I feel the warmth of yours on the other side.
Unmovable. Unfillable. Uncrossable.
The wall. The hole. The divide.
.
I think it went well. He found others. Men. A place to share without shame, judgement. The prayers disturbed him a little, but he understands their meaning. I think he went thinking there would only be junkies and losers. That he did not belong in that kind of crowd. He came back realizing that they all were equal in their addiction. He’s tired. He’s fed up. He’s not having fun anymore. He sees things slipping away.
He says he’s going to a meeting tomorrow. And maybe Friday too.
I’m here. I always have been. The change is that I stopped seeing his problem as being mine. I left him the sole responsibility of his actions. I won’t bear the weight anymore. I want him to stop for him. But I’m here. Every time he said he’d stop, I was here. I believe in him.
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Lancement de disque de Rick Hughes. Club Soda. 5 à 7. Je suis un peu énervée, c’est la première fois que je vais à un lancement… Plate, plate, plate. Pas une maudite vedette… Ah oui, Steve Diamond. Qui ça? Ben c’est ça. Toutes les stations de rèdio y étaient, pis des journalistes, des caméras, Flash notre Entertainment Tonight local… Cibole que c’était poche.
Mais Rick Hughes donne un bon show. Je l’ai vu avec son band Sword, dans les années 80… Ouin ça me rajeuni pas. Anyway… Il a une voix incroyable. Mais ses tounes sont so-so. Bon, il est entouré d’excellents musiciens. Et live, c’est sur, ça sonne. Mais je reconnaissais plein de riffs de Led Zep, Metallica, Maiden… C’est fatiquant. Sa ballade, Une Seconde, ça fait Marc Déry par bout. Overall, je suis pas certaine que ça va vendre tant que ça. C’est rock à la Éric Lapointe, mais ça s’en va un peu de tout les bords. Et je trouve ça plate qu’il n’ait pas essayé autre chose avec sa voix. Les longs cris à la Robert Plant, ou les finales le poing en l’air, la note étirée à la Rob Halford, c’est pas très original.
J’ai quand même aimé ça voir les camera hores et les petites pitounes aux cheveux crêpés. Je me serais crue à la Mansarde ou au Backstreet… Ahhhhh que de souvenirs!
On est allés souper au Petit Extra! Yééééé! Ça faisait une éternité… Toujours aussi bon, toujours aussi cher. Mais ça fait du bien, sortir un peu.
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Tonight is a big night. L. is attending a 12 step progam meeting… It’s the first time he actually tries something, in all these years.
The trigger? Valentine’s day most likely. This was not an evening to remember. I walked in the bedroom, he was there, a glass of scotch on the bedside table, coked out of his mind. I was so, so dissapointed. But proud at the same time, because I was able to tell him. Instead of saying nothing, turning my head, gritting my teeth, waiting for it to be over. I spoke up. No fight. I just said “I am so dissapointed. I thought we could make this evening special, make love instead of fucking, like usual. I think you missed a great opportunity.” That’s all I said.
So he’s at the meeting right now. It was starting at 7.30pm. He hasn’t called yet. So I’m hoping it means that he stuck around. I’m hoping we can talk about it when he gets home. I’m hoping he will like it enough to go back.
.
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Well, filelodge.com has been down for 2 days. I’ve been looking for an alternative, a service that allows me to embed my mp3 into this blog. And so far, nothing. So I’m testing a few. Now, this, castpost, embeds a player. But I want the file to start playing by itself, I don’t want a player… But that’s me. And that player here is quite ugly, clunky and big. Well, back to my hunt!
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I love you dearly, but I must not write to please you right? I must write for me. And as hard as I’ve tried to pull myself out of this fucking hole, I’m still very much in it. And I’ll mope and whine and slather my despair all over my blog. Because that’s how I feel. And writing here is what I need to keep madness from reaching its ultimate goal, which is my mind.
In December L. and I decided to give our relationship a chance. And I’m having a hard time right now. Very hard. I’m still convinced it was the right decision. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with this. I can’t even word it. I just need to say it.
I don’t think it’s going to work out.
What a fucking mess.
I’m looking forward to our trip in Colombia. I think it will be a nice change of pace. Get out of the house, the routine. I want this trip to make or brake things. Something has to happen. I can make it happen. Regardless. I can change my mind, I can admit I was wrong, or that I was right.
As for now, my mind has left the building. I’m running low on gas. I’m not going to give up, but I need to recharge my batteries. What better place than a beach in South America?
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