December 20, 2004

4:03 p.m.

Marble Effigies

The gas bill has been going up each month, of course, and when I look at the breakdown, I see that the gas itself is really cheap. But they tack on about $40 of other fees that's making my winter life harder. When I talked to Rose this afternoon, she informed me that it was SEVEN DEGREES outside. Dar's matinees were cancelled this morning. Rose and I postponed our Belated Bornearly Birthday Dinner til... well, til Christmas, which is the next time I'll see her. Talk about multitasking.

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As of this morning, I had decided to withdraw from the Terrifying Online Dating Service tomorrow. Rose urged me to continue with the service though, saying quite irritatingly logical things like, "Well, how many guys are you seeing NOW?" and, "Maybe you shouldn't take it all so seriously," and, "You miss 100% of the balls you don't swing at." I'm not sure "balls" was the exact analogy, now that I think of it, because it would have sounded funnier at the time. But I'm just full of excuses, and there's a casino dealer in Norwich who wants me to communicate with him, and I've put it off for a few days. As my friend Joan wrote me today: Growth is hard. I think I hate it.

I rather anticipate there will be a lot of crying involved in this process (the solitary kind, I hope), and I'm not looking forward to all the GRIEF. The statues in my cloister are still all broken. After this much time, it doesn't seem like such a big deal until someone comes in and looks around. I feel like I have a lot of housecleaning to do suddenly.

Of course, I could stay the way I am until things patch themselves together over time, not challenging myself to stretch or grow or be adventuresome, or to risk further crashing of marble effigies. It saddens me that this is in some way attractive, that I've come to this. Something happened to me, during the Will era, that really changed me. It's sucky. I'm not sure I love who I am. So I feel a little shaky presenting myself to someone else. Also my fuckin' story is so long now and so sordid -- it tires me out just to imagine ever telling another person what I've been through. I know, me, me, me. Like nobody else has been through anything. I am taking it too seriously; I've totally identified that. But I can't help it. It is a very grave and profound thing I'm contemplating. Something that will change the course of my life in some ultimately significant way -- whether I bail out of this proposition or not. I'm perched on the edge of a wall, and I can't see the landscape on either side. So I don't know which side to jump off into.

But, after talking with Rose, and even knowing when she says, "If it had been me, I'd have done it long ago" that she has inner convictions and mettle that I don't, I think I'll stick it out for now. I accept that I'm terrified. Later I just hope I can look back and feel that I did something for myself in the way of pushing the envelope of what has become my small, dark world. No matter what the results were.

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Our friend for whom we opened last weekend, whose name shall henceforth be Wes, flirts with me a lot now. Even in the depths of pain over his recent breakup, which I mentioned in the last entry. It's odd for me. Guys don't flirt with me as a rule, and I feel nothing for Wes aside from a very platonic, mostly professional friendship. It makes me a little uncomfortable. I don't think he means anything by it other than the fact that he's needy and there I am looking like someone friendly he can slip his arm around. We all kind of did that in the past anyway, harmlessly. But now it looks different because of his breakup. In every other breath, he's grieving over her. Now he wants to try to write songs with me. You're an amazing and brilliant songwriter, he says. I can't imagine how that would go, but it might be fun and informative. My process is very secretive. I wonder if what comes out will be superficial, because I just can't let stuff out of the bag until I feel it's organized and finessed. Anyway he seemed very enthusiastic about it, and I'm not averse to trying it out, as long as our expectations aren't too high.

And as long as he doesn't get, you know, needy and flirty and scary if we're over here by ourselves.

Fortunately I don't have a sofa yet, so it'll be a while before anyone can come over and sit down, anyway.

Wah. I feel very closed off, and tightly wrapped. I feel like one of the marble effigies, with a few pieces missing.

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On the other hand, we're going to Kripalu this week, so I'll have three gorgeous days of R&R in my spartan little room that smells clean like castille soap, great buffet meals, time in the whirlpool, and a gig at the end of it all. I suspect I'll sleep a lot.