March 22, 2004

11:06 p.m.

Carless for a Day

No, I don't mean "careless." My car is in the shop, and I'm at home without it until tomorrow night when I get a ride in. It's cozy, like being snowed in -- though there's no snow to speak of outside, any more.

I'd rather have a little snow than the bitchin' cold temps tonight.

Will left me two messages today; one while I was still asleep, and one while out doing errands. He sounded great. He said, send the diary entry along, it sounds good. It's interesting to hear how much more of "him" is in his voice now. For several months he was either marginal or totally exhausted, so there wasn't much inflection, and even his laughs were "huhuhuhs" without any diaphram support. Now there's all sorts of dancing in his voice. I seem, over the years, to be getting to know him in these small, distinct increments. I have never experienced anything like it.

I don't call him much. Maybe every couple of weeks I'll leave a message at home that he'll get when he checks in. Either I don't want to wear out my welcome, or I'm just ready to run like a bunny at the first sign of ambivalence on his part. I could write a book on the thousand ways I protect myself. I realized, thinking about it recently, that there's still a distinct barrier with me. I speak pretty freely with him, but my emotions after a point are behind the locked door. I check in with them. Yes, they're still there; they could come out if invited, but they're safely stowed meanwhile, in an overhead bin, next to a stranger's jacket.

I imagined telling him that: "I didn't want to wear out my welcome." He'd say, "You'll never wear out your welcome with me, [bornearly]!" I think that's what he'd say, because he's like that. And he'd put my name at the end of it, which always sounds like the first time anyone's ever spoken it. And I'd unlock the door and peek into the overhead bin, and know that the contents had shifted during takeoff and landing, and that if I went to fetch them out, one of us would get bonked on the head.

You can wear out your welcome, treating your host that way.

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In other news, the band is gearing up for our Midwest trip which starts Wednesday night. I can do routing tomorrow along with the list of other things I have to get done before leaving. I have to call a lawyer about some copyright questions; do a little mass email for gigs; arrange some of our lodging in Wisconsin.

I could work on the song I started today, the R-rated song that I wouldn't be able to sing with the band because we're so squeaky clean. It starts,

"Get in the tub with me
So we can get dirty..."

Hmph.

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I'd rather be careless for a day.