Tuesday, July 22, 2008

"Someone Help Me Off Of The Ground," Or, "When I Was A Boy, Everything Was Right"

The alternate title of this entry is a quote from one of my favorite Beatles songs, "She Said, She Said" from Revolver:

She Said, She Said
"She said, 'I know what it's like to be dead,
I know what it is to be sad.'
And she's making me feel like I've never been born.

I said, 'Who put all those things in your head?
Things that make me feel that I'm mad?
And you're makin' me feel like I've never been born.'

She said, 'You don't understand what I said.'
I said, 'No, no, no, you're wrong:
When I was a boy, everything was right.
Everything was right.'

I said, 'Even though you know what you know,
I know that I'm ready to leave.
'Cause you're makin' me feel like I've never been born.'

She said, 'You don't understand what I said.'
I said, 'No, no, no, you're wrong:
When I was a boy, everything was right.
Everything was right.'

I said, 'Even though you know what you know,
I know that I'm ready to leave.
'Cause you're makin' me feel like I've never been born.'

She said...(she said...)
I know what it's like to be dead...(echo)
I know what it is to be sad (echo)"
[Fade Out]

I told my mom that Shelley and I have been dating since April. She was shocked.

After an awkward 30-minute conversation centering around her inability to recognize that people can change, that she didn't "mind" us dating but couldn't see the two of us together for life - "I just hope you don't bring a child into the heartbreak", her insistence that Shelley never had any reason to fear her, and how she just couldn't understand why I would wait three months to tell her. She also couldn't fathom why I decided to lie to her.

Yeah, gee, I'm at a real loss as to why I would do something like that.

Cue Simpsons clip:
HOMER: "Oh, and by the way, I was BEING sarcastic!"

Can I only reiterate that it was hard keeping it a secret, never mind not an easy decision to come to in the first place?

A friend of mine came over late Saturday/early Sunday to hang out with me, Shelley, and Graham as he had just suffered a panic attack. He was stressed about a ton of other things, but the thought of the possibility for a human to willfully stop their own heart was enough to cause the onset. I thought it was a little strange, but we were there for him and just let him vent and caught up on life.

Now I know exactly how it feels.

I can't describe it, other than that I have a short list of people that I can truly say I hate. I would wish death upon them before this. (ARE YOU READING THIS, BILL O'REILLY?)

Before I could muster up the courage to let it all out on Shelley's shoulder, while we worked on my math homework this morning a song came on that I couldn't help but start weeping, quiet enough that Shelley didn't notice.

The song was "Morphine Song," from the album Working Man's Cafe. I had just received it Saturday from Eric, who delivered it for me...from Dad. The label is in his very distinctive handwriting. It's a combination of things: My dad is the reason I got into The Kinks. He bears some resemblance to Ray Davies. We saw Ray together in March 2006. The lyrics have nothing to do with my situation. But the instrumental backing at 0:55 (it sounds much better on the album, as first an accordion, then a brass section, play it) just got to me.

Proof that sometimes music speaks louder than words, my favorite lyricist, Mr. Ray Davies, performing one of the most touching pieces of music I've ever heard. I couldn't have heard it at a better point in my life. The memory is now inseparable.

It's just as beautiful as anything off of The Village Green Preservation Society.

At least it's off my back, chest, and mind, and out of my system. It's like taking a hearty shit after an equally hearty meal.



m@ said...

Too much to write.
I'll be in Bloomington Friday for lunch with a friend if you have any time in the afternoon or evening.
In the mean time you will be in my prayers.

Shelley said...

I know it hurts, my heart literally dropped when I sat there listening to babble (actually I was pacing around the room). While I didn't want to tell you some of the things she told me, I knew I had to. Although, a part of me really wishes I hadn't.

It is like the Emily Dickenson poem:
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

Your mom must have never read this good piece of advise.

That song was beautiful.

And I would NEVER be like your mother. I mean, I don't think I could even if I TRIED. Which I will never do...I PROMISe.


Squalus Maximus said...

When I saw in your update a couple of weeks ago that you were planning on telling Joyce & Eric Sr. - I knew it was a mistake. But, it was your mistake to make or not.

My suggestion for you, Shelley, Eric Jr. and Maddie would be to put "Mommie" on a strictly "need to know" basis for all personal information. The less she knows-the less effect she can have on you.

I hope all goes well for you. Don't be surprised by the headgames that are sure to follow.

Stay tough.

The Squalus

m@ said...

I just read the squalus comment and I couldn't disagree more.

Withholding information from those who are crucial parts of your life will only bring you grief. Timing, however, is the key. I believe that you did the right thing.

Even if they don't agree with your choices, at least they will know what is going on. NOT telling them adds disappointment.

As for head games, I would expect that you would have developed a little resistance to that by now. Constant vigilance.

Sorry that this came so late...if anyone even sees it since it's an old posting.