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12 November 2014

And In The End

Thanks to those of you who came out to Musee Mecanique. It was great meeting you all.
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Sometimes you're sitting in a room and let's say you've been sitting there a while, in the same spot, working on something, focused, determined and then the light flickers. And for a moment your mind stops doing what it was doing and tries to figure out the reasoning behind the flickering light. Then, eventually, you go back to what you were doing... and... and well some people just get back on the same train and keep trying to chug along and some people take quick inventory of what they were focused on before the light flickered and realize that maybe it's time to get up and move around a bit.
I took inventory. 
And now I'm moving.

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"I made a decision today..." I say this as I pick away at the remaining cover of the chair. I hear the clamoring of glasses, raspy laughs, long sighs.
"And... that is what?" He takes another long sip of his fernet and checks his phone for the 100th time.
"I am officially, and I mean that... like solid ground officially, done with him."
He laughs.
"Which him?"
I roll my eyes. But it's a true statement. I am juggling hims and forgetting names and confusing events more often lately. 
"E.B. I am done. I have to be. I have officially deleted all phone evidence and spent hours last night looking up how to forget things like phone numbers. There are some weird youtube videos and for a while I couldn't remember my birthday but I think it's erased now."
He laughs harder. "Skye, why? You were adamant about winning him back. You have been for weeks. What happened?"
I look down and shrug. I feel my face getting hot and my eyes welling up.
"It's all head games. Texting back, not texting back. Not answering things when I ask, but leaving with innuendos. It's not getting me anywhere. And I'm done chasing. I'm tired. I'm tired and I can't keep crying about it."
He rubs my shoulder and kisses my forehead.
"He's an idiot and an asshole. I'm sorry. So what about Justin?"
I laugh and finish off my vodka.
"He dumped me last night. I am too much work he said. 'It just seems like a lot of work' he said. He gave me a long hug before he walked away. The story of my life. Long hugs, lingering looks. Wah wah. I couldn't convince an ant to stick around even if I had an endless supply of sugar."
He laughs again. This time with the saddest look on his face. 
"Fuck em all," I say "fuck em all. And the studio audience erupts into applause and laughter and the sad girl sitting at home toasts the tv."
"What?"
"Nevermind."

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So after a few days and some long thoughtful self talks I (being this blog) am now on indefinite hiatus.
Good luck, friends. Thank you all for reading as often as you did.


-xo

10 November 2014

Cover to Cover

"Thank you for driving out here."
3 hours to LA on a Sunday. Potential to wander about... it's fine.
"We really need to discuss what the plan is. Off the record."
He is looking at me with concern. She walks into the room.
"How are you doing? We are worried. What's going on? It's been 3 weeks."
I roll my eyes. Pat my legs. 
"I can't do this. Not right now. What do I need to do to show work but without... doing anything?"
They both sigh.

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"So do you have a plan?"
I'm folding a piece of paper in half, over and over... it's a new 'technique'.
"Susan..." I say in a quiet breath, "my plan is to do nothing. What can I do?"
She jots something down.
"What's going on with...Justin? Was that...is that, his name?"
"He's a bandaid. And a generic one. And I just. can't. stop. bleeding."

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I sit at the bar, he's shaking drinks. I'm chatting up everyone around me. Making bad jokes. Making people laugh. With me. At me. For me.
"You look... amazing." he says. But lacking that twinkle in his eye. 
"What else is new?" I say. Over confident. Because these days, well, these days... my confidence gets me father than anything else.

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"You need to say you're working on something and give proof."
"What kind of 'proof'" I ask. Digging a pen from the bottom of my bag. Finding an old receipt, 'How did I spent 34.88 at a bagel shop?' I think to myself. Or maybe outloud.
"Have you talked to him about the book? Does he know what's going on? Can you use his name? Those photos you chose? We need to cross those T's. That'll calm them."
"I have. He knows. About the book. I can't ask him for anything. I want to ask him for things but those are low on the list." I clear my throat, "Joan!! JOANIE!" I yell. 
"What... what're you doing?" They look confused.
"I need a whiskey. Isn't there a girl around here to fix that? JOAN!?"
"It's 9am..." 
"JUH-OH-NUH!" I scream.

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"Here is what I would do, Stephanie. Tell him the truth. But bring it at a time he wouldn't expect it. On your lunch break. Middle of the afternoon."
I tilt my head and look at her sideways.
"Why, Susan... why are you trying so hard to make this happen for me? Shouldn't you be telling me that I need to move on? Maybe make things work with this piece named Justin? Delete his number. Forget his name. Burn things?"
She sighs, jots more down.
"You and him... I don't know. Maybe I've broken boundaries, but from the evidence presented... you and him are meant for each other. Maybe you just needed time apart. I should be indifferent, but I'm on your team. Keep your hand still. Let him sniff. But, don't let him get bored and more interested in the hussy with the potato chip fingers."
I laugh.
I laugh so hard I choke on my spit.
I laugh so hard I'm choking, crying, tugging on my ears, rubbing my nose, adjusting in my seat and saying hail mary's in my head.
"My mission is clear, then."

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I'm roaming the flea market.
The phone rings.
"Hello?"
"The... they....the... they CALLED."
He can't talk. Something is off.
"... you are a psychopathic bitch with more issues than... than Time and I can say that full of love because people, people want...YOU."
I stop mid isle. I see that guy from that one show give me an eye.
"Shut the fuck up..."
We are eying each other now.
"Little, Stephanie... more than hipster chic bullshit wanna be crap assholes want to at least TALK to you. Just talk. Fucking... TALK."
I wink at him.
"Clear my calendar, Joan. And get me a few bottles of Whistlepig and Templeton for the conference room..."
I'm biting my lower lip and waving at him now.
"Wait...what...what conference room? What's a WittlePig? Are you trying to say little pig?"
"Hi. Isn't this place...rad?"
"Who are you talking to!?"

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"How does a girl like you end up alone at the bar?"
"My issues are exstenive. Like vogue. But more... ratty and partially covered in dirt and tears."
He laughs.
"I could see that, I guess. But still..."

-xo


08 November 2014

Wander Wonder(ful)

"You're pretty per-occupied over there, little one!"
I'm sipping on a white russian. Even though I think they are gross. I felt compelled. The smell of the room, the people... something about it.
"What're you doing, Skye!? Hello?"
We are all sitting in a booth. Snuggled in. Enjoying the warmth. Long night of pouring beers outside in the cold. For a weird crowd. For each other.
I'm sending notes back and forth with a few people. But one name in particular has me hung up.
"Sorry. It's just... sorry. Anyway. Back to the original subject..."
I'm still glancing down at my phone.
"Let's get real, Peanut. What's going on over there?"
I sigh. I look at all of them. At my phone. At them. I pick up my drink.
"E. Books, ay?"
They know this face too well. Excitement and disappointment all wrapped into one.
"You gotta stop talking to him, Peanut. You can't go home again. You know that."

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I'm going back and forth.
From reading into it. Not reading into it.
Being ok with it. Not being ok with it.
I mean.
It wasn't now it is, but I can't make a mountain out of a mole hill. It doesn't mean anything.
Every time I say to myself... it doesn't mean anything.

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"How's the blog doing?"
We are sipping coffee. Him: black. Me: 4 sugars, 3 creams and a wince.
"It's ok. I don't know that it is anything. I am getting between 200-500 views a day depending on what I'm talking about. Is that word of mouth? I don't know. They want me to stop though. For a bit. Build...anticipation? I'm over it."
He is folding a napkin in a paper hat. He sticks it on my head. I look like a a nun.
"So, what's the plan?" He asks. Adjusting the hat. Fixing my hair. Closing one eye for composition.
"The plan is... look... I want my life back to where it was this time last year. So the plan is, to win him back, finish my tour in the desert, and look forward. As Hova says, it's the only direction."
A guy walking by stops and squints at me.
"You look familiar. Do you work somewhere?"
I look at him. I look at my table guest. Back at him.
"I work for the Lord, my child."
They both laugh.
"You pour beer. You gave me a great IPA. You're 'the girl' at the bar."
I raise my mug and say, "To me."

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"Well, Stephanie. Thank you for taking a day from the classroom to meet with us."
Conference room. Again.
"Look. We don't really know what you're doing. But the blog is ruining some of the motivation. The way you talk about us. People want to read the book. But you're... making things hard right now."
I smile. Big. "So what's the next step?"
"Um... Finish the book? Have you talked to him about photo rights? His name? All of that?"
I smile. Bigger. "No. I don't know where he is and when I do get to talk to him I don't want to muck things up with 'shop talk'. I mean. Did you read chapter 12? I want him back... why would I put some pressure..."
"Stephanie. Seriously. This is getting..."
"I have my author photo. I know you sent people. And the weird magazine interview was cool. Me drinking a beer though, so... so... predictable."
I slide the picture of my side and hip. Lace underwear. Across the table.
"What's your goal with this?" They ask. Looking at each other with red cheeks.
"Shock value? I'm a hot girl. C'mon. Sex sells!" I say slapping the table. Laughing too hard.
"This. These. These meetings should be recorded." He says, trying not to smile.

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And when it happens.
When you see me again.
You're brain will be flooded.
And I'll be the one in rain boots with an umbrella.
Smiling.

-xo