“The world is chaos, be kind.”
I don’t know how I feel about it but I’m not that kind. I’m usually too busy trying to be clever. Don’t get me wrong, I believe I’m trying to help people. But it’s like, no I can’t focus on you because I’m trying to save the planet. I don’t care about what’s wrong in your day because I’m preoccupied with my goals of helping people. It’s so backwards.
But it’s so easy to want recognition. And craving recognition is the enemy of being kind. But if I can’t be nice to the person I’m riding in the car with, the odds are low that I’ll do anything worth recognition.
But when people are unkind to me I feel it so palpably. Why can’t I feel that when I’m the one brushing someone off? I guess it takes practice and patience. I’m thankful for all the people who are patient with me. They help me be patient with Angeline.
Today on the way to the airport she asked me, “Wanna get burgers and go to the park?” She had been almost unbearable the last few days and I was pretty exhausted. I finally muttered a “Yes.” The answer was so forced and half-baked. She snatched that up right away.
“Wow. Ok, guess not.” She reflected half surprised.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, you don’t have to be any certain way around me. If you’re irritated, be irritated. But don’t expect me to want to be around you necessarily when you’re like that.”
She bristled. These conversations always turn into a game of chess. This time she paused, stopping at the stop sign she looked up at me.
“I’m sorry.” She paused. “I just get so bothered sometimes by whatever and it shows up and you get to deal with it.”
I looked at her, “You didn’t use to be like this to me. At first, it was endearing, sign we were getting closer. But sometimes I just get worn out on it.”
She laughed. We sat there at the stop sign for a minute. “Ok, let’s get you to the airport.”
Any time she apologizes to me, just the feeling that she’s acknowledging the way I feel loosens my shoulders and neck, makes the corners of my mouth untense.
I hate airport dropoffs. I started to load my backpack onto my back but then I saw her get out. She looked at me the way she looks at me sometimes and we knew we were good. She really is just a fundamentally beautiful soul. Setting the backpack down, I gave her an airport hug. Plenty of time to hug it out. We were there early, remember?
As much as I had looked forward to roadtripping with Chaz, I was gonna miss her. The adventure always feels a little more real, a little more inspiring, a little more vibrant when she’s around.
She likes pissing off my roommates
When it’s too late
We woke em up after like two dates
She told me time’s fake, why wait?
Must be off an asteroid
She don’t seem to care about cash annoyed
By my future plans told me stop asking boy
She don’t seem to care if it lasts or not
My dad says you’re running from something he should know
I’m not too attached to let this go
I’ve just never seen you vulnerable
What do I want from you?
What do I want from you?
What do I want from you?
I want love I want love I want love yeah
Hitch hiking to greener pastures
Anything to get there faster
I’ve been biking and I can’t catch her
I’m so last year if you ask her
Three steps towards and two steps backwards
And it ain’t good to get attached here
She could pick up like she started to last year
No happy ever after I wouldn’t put it passed her
(Naked Lunch movie excerpt)
“Well, now that I’m seeing it, what is it?
It’s a very literary high, very literary.”
If I had control would I want my space
If I had your soul would I miss your face?
Since I’m a musician and a hippy people always think I smoke weed. They’re like, “You smoke?” as a formality. When I’m like “Naw, I haven’t gotten into it yet.” They’re always confused. I feel like if I was with Angeline for as long as I was and didn’t smoke I probably never will. I always answer that “I haven’t gotten into it yet” because I feel like it sounds like I’m open to it. I really don’t care if people smoke but I used to feel like people felt judged if I didn’t smoke too. I think that’s why I always felt like Angie was disappointed with me that I didn’t do any drugs. Or medicine as she called it.
I took the snippet from Naked Lunch in the bridge of Want From You because in the movie the guy is a bug exterminator who wants to be a writer. He comes home and his wife is shooting up with his roach poison from work and he’s like wtf? Then he goes, “now that I’m seeing it, what is it?” And she responds, “It’s a very literary high, very literary”. That’s really manipulative because she knew that he wanted to be a writer. And she just didn’t want the hassle of him telling her she can’t use his bug poison for shooting up, so she gets him into it too.
Angie always told me that my songs would be more creative if I smoked or did shrooms. Some of my favorite Jason Mraz songs were from times that he was blazed, but it just isn’t me. But there was just always this separation that I wouldn’t follow her on a trip and she felt self-conscious tripping around someone that was sober. So I felt like she was trying to tell me it was a “literary high” and that it’d make my songs better. Btw I was not into that movie and she loved it XD
I wonder how much of the magic of her was from how drugs had changed her brain and I wonder how many of her problems were from it too. She frequently couldn’t get out of bed. She was definitely depressed. It’s not that she was bi-polar, more that some days she just seemed like a totally different person. So much so that I started looking up signs of dissociative identity disorder.
When she would go on shrooms trips she would say she was doing research. Research into herself to discover places she couldn’t go sober. I trusted her to take care of herself and I knew she had done way harder stuff during her lifetime. I supported her enlightening herself in the best way she saw fit. That’s all we can ask of anyone. But I just wanted her to respect that I wanted to meditate and that I didn’t want to get high. Idk if she ever did.