rosie and me

(originally written in an email sent on october 9, 2007)


it may not have been the first time
i met or spoke with rosie

heck, it wasn't even the first time i took a picture with her

but nevertheless
today
at about 2:00 pm
i had my first REAL "talk"
with the human who has most influenced my life
without ever being in it

we talked about matt
about his tragedy
and about the thousand pic collage on my walls in arkansas

i thanked her
for what she'd written to a woman whose child had died in her arms

"in faith
in the memory
u carry on"

and told her also
that she'd altered the course of my life completely

then she actually thanked me
told me she got it
the collages and the need
"i used to do that too," she chuckled

she mentioned just how young i looked
and handsome
asked me how old i might be...
"25," i whispered
"just a baby," she replied

she stared into my eyes
deep
i tried to keep the contact
fought looking at the floor

it's hard to meet that person
celebrity or otherwise
alone
one on one
after dreaming the moment for half your life

today it came
that time when i could briefly tell my story
make an impact
a small impression on her heart

connection
always the goal

she said "you remind me of that tobey macguire"
"yeah, i get that" i dry-mouth whispered.. "both him and robert downey jr."

"no, more tobey macguire, i think" she replied
looking for that innate goodness
the superhero
unable to see the demons
lurking just below the surface

it was brief i guess
but an eternity

a minute or two
and it was through

she looked at me
deep
and i moved her
i felt it, the soul-quake
with matt and me
love, loss and loneliness

the heart can swell to unspeakable sizes
and soar to impossible heights

if you let it
the heart can swell and grow

when i thanked her for what she'd written

"in faith
in the memory
u carry on"

i also informed her that upon reading it
i'd smiled for perhaps the first real time since matt's death
and knew i'd be alright

"you will be" she said
"you will"

and in no small part
because of her

doubt(full) thinking

i think i've lost my voice

nothing
i repeat nothing
seems worth writing about

at least
not worth writing about on the internet
for everyone to read

there's probably nothing worse in writing
than self-involved
navel-gazing
and that, i fear, is what this has devolved into

when i started writing this blog
on october 22, 2005
to attempt an experiment in writing every single day
for an entire year

it was to document
to set down memories and experiences
i likely would have otherwise forgotten

but it also felt
at the same time
that i was saying something
that others could essentially relate to

that i was saying something
in essence
for everyone

but ever since matt's death
he's kind of all i want to write about
so when push comes to shove
and when fingers meet keyboard
i usually, often do

i don't know
cause it's not like that in real life
i don't regularly burden my friendships with sordid tales
of a love gone horribly awry

we laugh
we party
we drink
we socialize
we have sexual encounters
we meet great, interesting new friends

we simply fucking live

and, when i started this experiment
that's what i would have written

that's STILL what my life is today
not matt
who's unfortunately no longer here
who i technically wasn't even dating at the time of his death

i think i've lost my voice
because
i don't want to inflict this mess
on anyone else

i don't believe that others should have to feel the longing
to call someone who will never answer again
(especially if he was the first person on your speed dial)
just to talk
across state lines
about politics, work or reality t.v.


the british singer corinne bailey rae
known to lily allen as corinne "boring" rae
apparently had a husband
and that husband apparently died of a drug overdose
this past weekend

when i first read the news this afternoon
(catching up on my perez hilton)
i immediately thought
"my god. how sad"
"that must be so awful for her, and of course so tragic for him"

but my next thought was
"well, her next album is going to be AMAZING"

it's different
somehow easier
to navel-gaze
to be self-involved
to moan about heart-ache and loss
when you're doing it in song

there's something about a melody
and chorus
or a hook
that instantly turns the difficult, or the uber-personal
into art made for the masses

it's harder here
for a young writer like myself
to convey what's happening in my life
and my head

because it shouldn't make sense
that out of all the experiences in the week
that out of all the times i've laughed or all the stories i've been told
that out of all the LIFE experiences i've engaged in

when i sit down in front of the powerbook g4
my mind just races towards "him"

i'm sorry
that i can't put this into song
more often than not i wish i could

but
maybe
it might help
if you play a little something
instrumental
in the background
as you sort through the rubble that remains

radio. enters. me.

sunday
a mcdonald's
near times square
vaguely depressed
just vaguely
like rainy sunday afternoon depressed
but with headache to boot
i'm at the mcdonald's
because i'm seeing a show in an hour & a half
i spent far too much on dinner the night before
and the new york sports club on 48th and 6th
(which i'd planned to work out at before the performance)
is inexplicably closed
so of course my mind goes
well
if the gym is closed
i might as well eat filet-o-fish
with fries, a diet coke and three cookies
two chocolate chip
one oatmeal
(all of which i'll save for later)
makes sense right?
so here i am
alone
on the third floor of an exceptionally crowded
mickey d's
slightly, vaguely depressed
with an hour and a half to kill
just eating my junk
when from the sound system i hadn't even noticed was on
r.e.m. sweeps in from out of nowhere
to momentarily save my life
"at my most beautiful"
an obscure song choice
particularly for the largest chain restaurant
in the universe
because this song is small
tiny, really
from their album "up"
which is pretty much genius
and when the song comes on
on and upward
out of the abyss
gorgeous
achingly so
i feel for a moment like i'm maybe in this time & place for a reason
that perhaps there just might be a plan at work
i mean, there has to be
it's a sunday afternoon
brunch time
and i could be a million different places
at pastis with a group of six
(if i hadn't spent so much the night before)
or an investment banker, a doctor, a lawyer
should be any of these, perhaps
but i'm not
because i can't be
and for the moment i'm just here
trying to figure it all out in my own way
about to see the broadway show "passing strange"
about another artist's journey towards himself
it's crazy just how comfortable i am
comfortable, and lucky
that i can even have the opportunity
to reflect
to moan
to simply be depressed
instead of hungry
or unhealthy
or torn apart by war
yeah, i'm fucking lucky
but somehow
still as lost as ever
as the rain keeps vaguely falling
and the headache keeps vaguely throbbing
while the gym stays completely closed
i may be lost
but, for now i'll just sit
taking it all in

the boston day trip

the boston day trip
$15 each way
how could you resist?

we went for lindsey
matt's best friend
who's up from florida to visit
for the umpteenth time
thank god

she'd never been to beantown
and i've not been back since i was in high school
touring colleges campuses

my friend chris richards (the one and only)
was in the city visiting his friend sarah

so we made a day of it

a full twelve hours spent in someone else's neck of the woods
just sitting back and letting it take you where it does
as others generously make the plans

who knew
that bostonians were the nicest people on earth?
bafflingly, confusingly so

every single person we encountered
was beyond kind
courteous, helpful & hospitable

from 7 am
when lindsey and i caught the bus from new york
to 4:30 the next morning
when the two of us stumbled back into my apartment
it was a great day

boston
i had no idea?
ya learn something new every day