Dark Ages

I've decided that I'm okay with being ignored, as long as I can spend 15 minutes with Rachel Weiss every week in return.

So far, that's worked out. (That's right, I'm serious.) But the second week approaches...

I'm not one for being ignored, and it's currently happening. Girls are a complete mystery to me, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I just champion the "can we just talk about this?" way of life, which never seems to click with females, this year being a prime example.

On a somewhat related note, break ups are a weird thing. I'm still recovering from my last one, over half a year ago. It was on my mind a lot today, and I realized that in a way, I'm still in love with her, and with everyone I've loved before. And not in some fancy pants Oversoul kind of love -- I still feel a romantic tether of sorts. There are, of course, other, less attractive feelings braiding said tether, but we won't get into those. It's just a weird thing. Endings. I don't end relationships, at least I don't think I do. But some people REALLY end stuff, really give it the ole guillotine treatment. It's never occurred to me to exile someone from my life. But everyone seems to do it. Parents get divorced. Lovers ditch ya. Friendships can actually split and evaporate. The latter is always the most surprising to me.

I was listening to John Prine on my way to work this morning. It was a song I'd forgotten about called "Taking a Walk," and I don't think I'd heard it since March. The most at-ease, relaxed, and enigmatically bittersweet song. It was a really nice moment. And I wondered, wow, what if John Prine decided I couldn't listen to his music anymore? All his CDs and mp3s just vanished from my possession, and I'd never be allowed to hear so much as a refrain of "Bruised Orange" or "The Other Side of Town" again. Not even look up the lyrics to his songs, not see the covers of his albums. Or, not to do too much qualifying, but what if that happened with Neil Young? Bob Dylan? I'd spend a good portion of the rest of my life struggling to replay their wayward melodies and rhymes in my head, until they melted and reformed as something off-centered and ghastly, a far lesser version of themselves. And I'd never quite remember them the way they were.

Feels familiar.

So that's what happens. Someone decides we shouldn't be a part of their life, and as we sit there, trying to comprehend what just took place, their memory is already distorting itself, taking on a life of its own. And it would be easy to let this happen. The harder choice is to cut ties and let that person go completely. I've never been able to do that.

But what is the better choice? To let this replay mode happen? Or to cut the canker right off? Can you ever really get over anything? Can I, anyhow?

With all these thoughts floating in my blood since summer, it didn't help that my for first time up at bat in a while, I went out swinging like a fool. But lesson learned, I guess. It just happens to be a lesson that makes me more bitter and jaded, so I'm resisting slightly.

I performed as the musical guest for improv group Busker last night. That's right: an improv group that takes their suggestions from the performance of a busker! Good gravy! How awesome is that? Awesome to the nth, would be one answer, and a good one at that. I had a swell time being a part of their show, and seeing how my songs influenced their scenes. Folded Fox made an appearance, and I rounded off the set with some of my favorite covers. Had a few friends come as well, which is always nice. It was a strange sensation performing on stage like that....though I'm an actor and improviser in my own right, I'm not used to performing music in an environment where people are -- at least -- arranged so as to be watching me. Usually they just walk right past me, or linger for a moment and chuck me a quarter. So I was a little tense. Nevertheless, good practice, as I'd like to be playing more bars eventually. Many thanks to the fine folks of Busker for having me.

My computer's hard drive pooped out at the start of this week. Not a nice experience, but I'd thankfully done a pretty good job of backing up my important stuff. I lost the garageband file for Folded Fox, so it's more or less set in stone now. I also lost three days of chances to record, as my mind was teeming with thoughts like those above. I was not to be thwarted, however. My recently resurrected reel-to-reel reigned in the responsibility of recording rather regally. It's a little too old-school for my tastes, as I've been spoiled with having all of my scraps arranged as mp3s, but it did the job. I also took this opportunity to go back and make super basic recordings of some stuff in my notebooks that never got put on tape.

So here I am, procrastinating work on my Wicked audition because I can't stop moping over some girl who isn't worth the trouble, while my friends are all partying in New Jersey, and the chunks of my family are strewn across the country miles away. I don't think I could feel any more alone.