BACKGROUND: Pink Floyd "Momentary Lapse" concert video
And it's not that I'm exactly lonely and sad right now. I'm just quiet. That's the best way I can describe it. I'm really quiet and slow. Sitting here, drinking this piss ass non-alcaholic beer stuff, listening to Floyd, "Dogs of War," and the sound of the raindrops against the window. Taking my St. Johns and my Valerian Root and my Melatonin. Thinking about how my life's going and thinking about where my life was a year ago.
Year ago I was in Phoenix, Arizona. Vague, non-specific memories pop up right around there about how hot it always was. Always hot. And even the cold cannot be compared to the cold I feel now. I still sometimes find myself looking at the weather in Phoenix for no real reason. The one thing I always seem to note is that the low in Phoenix is usually the high in Sacramento. Now that I'm living in Californication, I seem to be enjoying this rush of creative energy and a love for music and the local music scene and art, writing, painting, everything. But I would give it all up just to feel that heat I took for granted, man, shit.
Year ago, I was with this woman. Spare the details, which, I must continue to remind myself now that I have hindsight, were mostly good. But it ended and now I'm here in this place, this city, and I still wonder just how the hell I ended up in this cold, green city. But the thing is, it's getting closer and closer to the year mark. In a couple of weeks, less than a month, I'll have been here for a year.
Not sure how to feel about that. And the memory of that seems to creep up on me at the most inopportune times.
Like today when I was visiting my girls. And these feelings aren't a stupid sort of emo punk longing of a better time and the woman that broke my heart. No, fuck all that. What I guess I'm trying to say is that it's been almost a year that I've been here and I think that I should be happy right now. And I am, most of the time. Just that sometimes I'll be happy and this sort of bullet goes through my brain and infects me with this quiet sad remembrance of the heat and the bars and the friends and the comfort I had and the easy life I led and the woman I dated and the woman with the glasses I had the mad-on crush for and all this turns me into this doubting, pouting asshole guy.
I should be happy right now. I mean, I'm making nine an hour to do absolutely nothing. I'm healthy and sober. I have a car. And there seems to be this good, healthy, steady sort of relationship thing that seems to be slowly starting to grow between me and Collyne. The only problem is the angry ex who has anger issues that keep me up late at night and makes me look over my shoulder. But things are good. Things are great. Sitting here reading my comics and downloading porn and listening to Pink Floyd. I should be estatic.