A bit of this, a bit of that...
I am just back home after rehearsals and I feel like writing. I am writing like mad these days, page after page, almost entranced, and it feels so good, so good, so good. Next week this time I’ll be at the summer party, in the band’s shirt and wearing some nice skirt, I thought, a sporty skirt that looks good with trainers, although I could also wear sandals; there isn’t much to do on the first night of the party, but drummer friend is playing with his group, so I guess there will be lots of fans who follow them around the valley like I know they do. Anyway.
In the middle of some complicated score, (ex) friend arrived, shining and smiling; after rehearsals she joined us, and I couldn’t almost look at her; she hinted at my tan, I pretended not to hear; I hoped I would have to drive shop-a-holic friend home too, so that I would leave her first and would not be obliged to spend some time in the car with her, but shop-a-holic didn’t quite catch it and so I was left alone, and subsequently spent about 20 minutes talking to her, trying to be general, no details on anything, not wanting to hear anything from her, not wanting to give away the little nothing I have built during these days. In the end, she decided that next week I must do something with Guy, because he’s obviously interested but cannot move first like I wished he would. So her plan is to keep her cousin away from him, and all the others, so that we would have some minutes by ourselves…shame that I heard him say that he may not be there, on Friday night..I was already thinking that in that case I’ll have to invite him for a coffee on Saturday morning, since I leave at midday, and..Oh, I don’t know. It feels strange. When I analyse certain behaviours, it comes clear that he is interested, and that some of his friends are working for this thing to happen, like when playing partner invited me and Chorus friend for breakfast, that Sunday morning: he had never had such a thought, not even when we were friends, and he is not close to Chorus friend at all, so he could have simply said goodbye and left with Guy for a men’s breakfast. Maybe we are just building meanings around trivial moments, to please our imagination, to feed our dreams.
I have little to do and think of, these days: packing list is ready, I have a couple of laundries to do and some shopping too, a few friends to see, and more running and writing until I have time; I haven’t decided whether I should take my laptop with me or not, to keep writing, or if my long-forgotten notebook will do: in that case I will need to print the first pages of what I am writing, to keep it going the way I want, as a reference. Yes, maybe I’ll do that.
I had prepared a sort of compilation for Guy, did I say that? I probably did. I keep changing my mind over it, and I keep pretending to forget to give his cd back, even when he comes to say hello: it’s in my bag and I know it, still I won’t make my hand take it and give it to him. I want that to be a moment of intimacy, maybe, an exchange of something we are now sharing (a very interesting cd of an alternative group, and Rigmor, if you are reading, I will send you a copy, I have the feeling that you may like it). In the end, anyway, the compilation will be changed, I need something better than that, less cheesy (and mind you, it wasn’t really cheesy, there was lots of rock and parts of soundtracks, since he likes cinema, and I like it too, and I chose the nicest I had), but still a piece of me. I will prepare it now. I am made of many pieces, and every compilation is different, my mood being so variable, so unpredictable; for example now I am listening to the soundtrack of Pearl Harbour, a movie I have never seen because I can tell it’s predictable and cheesy, but the music is good, although not very original. And my mood being kind of melancholic, The Hours is also good for this writing. However, I have made compilations before, and the implied meaning is very dangerous, especially because I wonder if playing partner remembers that I had made one for him too, (already) ten years ago. Oh, such a long time ago. He must have forgotten by now. A Christmas present of a snowy night, mulled wine and songs and finally the gift before saying goodnight, and three kisses of merry Christmas I did not expect at all, that filled me with joy and warmth. I still feel the touch of his skin on my face.
So I wonder if Guy will think/understand that I am presenting this compilation to say that I like him, a sort of interested present, if you want to look at it this way. Then again it’s not, because I give presents because I like making people happy, I spend lots of money over little gifts and stuff that I know my friends would like, or that would make them smile. Do you understand? It’s like the need to know what makes you happy: if I know, I will do my best to make you happy.
Ok. All this music has made me feel like watching the movie again (I’m talking of “The Hours”, of course).
In the middle of some complicated score, (ex) friend arrived, shining and smiling; after rehearsals she joined us, and I couldn’t almost look at her; she hinted at my tan, I pretended not to hear; I hoped I would have to drive shop-a-holic friend home too, so that I would leave her first and would not be obliged to spend some time in the car with her, but shop-a-holic didn’t quite catch it and so I was left alone, and subsequently spent about 20 minutes talking to her, trying to be general, no details on anything, not wanting to hear anything from her, not wanting to give away the little nothing I have built during these days. In the end, she decided that next week I must do something with Guy, because he’s obviously interested but cannot move first like I wished he would. So her plan is to keep her cousin away from him, and all the others, so that we would have some minutes by ourselves…shame that I heard him say that he may not be there, on Friday night..I was already thinking that in that case I’ll have to invite him for a coffee on Saturday morning, since I leave at midday, and..Oh, I don’t know. It feels strange. When I analyse certain behaviours, it comes clear that he is interested, and that some of his friends are working for this thing to happen, like when playing partner invited me and Chorus friend for breakfast, that Sunday morning: he had never had such a thought, not even when we were friends, and he is not close to Chorus friend at all, so he could have simply said goodbye and left with Guy for a men’s breakfast. Maybe we are just building meanings around trivial moments, to please our imagination, to feed our dreams.
I have little to do and think of, these days: packing list is ready, I have a couple of laundries to do and some shopping too, a few friends to see, and more running and writing until I have time; I haven’t decided whether I should take my laptop with me or not, to keep writing, or if my long-forgotten notebook will do: in that case I will need to print the first pages of what I am writing, to keep it going the way I want, as a reference. Yes, maybe I’ll do that.
I had prepared a sort of compilation for Guy, did I say that? I probably did. I keep changing my mind over it, and I keep pretending to forget to give his cd back, even when he comes to say hello: it’s in my bag and I know it, still I won’t make my hand take it and give it to him. I want that to be a moment of intimacy, maybe, an exchange of something we are now sharing (a very interesting cd of an alternative group, and Rigmor, if you are reading, I will send you a copy, I have the feeling that you may like it). In the end, anyway, the compilation will be changed, I need something better than that, less cheesy (and mind you, it wasn’t really cheesy, there was lots of rock and parts of soundtracks, since he likes cinema, and I like it too, and I chose the nicest I had), but still a piece of me. I will prepare it now. I am made of many pieces, and every compilation is different, my mood being so variable, so unpredictable; for example now I am listening to the soundtrack of Pearl Harbour, a movie I have never seen because I can tell it’s predictable and cheesy, but the music is good, although not very original. And my mood being kind of melancholic, The Hours is also good for this writing. However, I have made compilations before, and the implied meaning is very dangerous, especially because I wonder if playing partner remembers that I had made one for him too, (already) ten years ago. Oh, such a long time ago. He must have forgotten by now. A Christmas present of a snowy night, mulled wine and songs and finally the gift before saying goodnight, and three kisses of merry Christmas I did not expect at all, that filled me with joy and warmth. I still feel the touch of his skin on my face.
So I wonder if Guy will think/understand that I am presenting this compilation to say that I like him, a sort of interested present, if you want to look at it this way. Then again it’s not, because I give presents because I like making people happy, I spend lots of money over little gifts and stuff that I know my friends would like, or that would make them smile. Do you understand? It’s like the need to know what makes you happy: if I know, I will do my best to make you happy.
Ok. All this music has made me feel like watching the movie again (I’m talking of “The Hours”, of course).
Labels: mind and heart, writing
posted by Peggy @ 11:43 PM
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