Remember how I was all like I can’t stop listening to Love and Greed, and it’s not even the best song on the album? But I never mentioned the best song on the album, which is Violet’s Constellations, here:

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So Darren sent me this e-mail today:

from: Darren
to: Jeff
subject: i don’t really know

he says whereeeeee where are youuuuuuuuuu he says where are you goooooo-annnnnn!!!!!!!!!!

sheet

I’m gonna go see Magneta Lane with Jeff on Feb. 12 ion toronto
COME COME COME!!

CF a little later? I’m waiting for some guy to release some shares online

And the subject + first line are the lyrics in the best part of Violet’s Constellations in the last verse, when Lexi is singing as the keyboard kicks in again.

This is how in tune I am with Darren.

And then news of them IN CONCERT, when I had to miss the Blonde Redhead concert in Toronto last time to take part in Pat and Jen’s wedding rehearsal. I’ll definitely be taking the day off to join them this time around. Maybe visit my dad too, since that’s his birthday.

(Isn’t it insane that out of 2384 posts I have right now, I can remember the entries for these specific events?)

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There’s been a smattering of good music lately, but this is the song that haunts me; Love and Greed by Magneta Lane. I added it to my collection on the 12th of October, and it’s already in my Top 20 Most Played. By no means is it the best song on the album; it’s just the one that hit me the hardest.

To hear it as a track by itself is a little out of context. It comes as 7 of 10 off Gambling With God, their latest album, and the songs leading up to it charge at a much faster pace. The dramatic change of tone between the verses and the chorus are effective in subtly drawing you in, against lyrics that should be screamed more than anything else.

My favourite part is when Lexi says, “I don’t want recycled love / if I did I’d pour wine in a cup / and get all liquored up / and fucking crawl in front of you” when the guitar and bass stop, and it’s just Nadia doing the bum-ba-da-bum-ba-da-bum-ba-da-bum underneath on her toms.

It’s stuff like this that makes rather plain looking Lexi Valentine so goddam attractive, very much in a Karen O kind of way. I guess you could say I have a fascination with Lexi swearing, because she does it so infrequently.

So…

I gave this song to Darren, and he sent me back this reply:

shit this song is on auto-repeat right now…. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Darren’s the only person in the world who sees love the way I do. John knows me in every other way — logic, mindset, emotion, personality, habits, taste — but he doesn’t understand my love, which is a big part of me. The only one who understands is Darren¹ because we share the same quixotic ideas about it. It’s as if we developed this romantic attitude as a backlash to how our fathers (brothers, who also look the same) raised us with such aloofness. This ideal is how we bond.

One time he told me he can’t wait for the day when we’re at his house with our girlfriends, and we’re playing Cranium, and we’re just…happy.

This is how I know he’s the only person who hears this song the same way too.

1. Not even my girlfriends have come close to understanding, aside from Bronwen. [↑]

Named after Dexter the serial killer. You can’t keep this cat down. If you leave anything lying around that’s not more than 25 pounds, he’ll play with it. This usually involves batting, scratching, knocking it off a table, or chewing it.

I suspect this is why Darren keeps his house so clean.

 

I left when the sun was setting. Along the way, the road stretched out infinitely before me, as if to say that I can always get away, and there is always more to go. The tree line danced and waved across the horizon, eventually disappearing with the sun. Then the lines of red and white in each direction guided me all the way to Darren’s house.

In it are little things from the house I grew up in — some candles here, some cabinets there — that my parents didn’t want after the divorce. So strange to see innocuous objects from my childhood in a different setting.

It was the first time we’ve been completely sober together since we were kids. No alcohol, no weed.

I found out a couple things I wouldn’t have known otherwise:

• My dad started dating someone. He is currently single again.
• He has a dance floor at his house and a nice car. This is typical of my dad, who loves his toys.
• My mother is still insecure.
• My parents still see each other, but not alone. The current social rule among the group of parents, is that you can’t invite one to a party without inviting the other.

A weekend of sweet indulgence, late nights, and intimate conversation. No one understands my relationships the way Darren does, because we both share these quixotic ideas about love. It was so comforting to be able to express myself on these things without having to explain my underlying feelings, as if someone could truly understand me, especially important in this current phase of my life.

It made me realize that home isn’t where the parents are, something I used to believe¹. It’s an idea.

A comforting place you can go to get away, where you’re completely accepted for who you are.

1. I’m not sure exactly when I stopped believing this, but it was probably somewhere between the time my parents got divorced and I stopped talking to my mom. [↑]

Two in one day…you know it’s serious.

I’m driving out to see Darren for the weekend. He’s five hours away, and it’ll be my first trip out of the city in the car. My car.

There’s a certain satisfaction to filling my trunk with odds and ends — tripod, sandals, snacks — that I couldn’t have carried on a Greyhound bus. Got my GPS and a full tank of gas.

I can’t wait to drive with the windows down while the sun is setting along the horizon, Summer Sun playing on the stereo. To be going somewhere by myself.

Free.

Killed my top rated playlist at work. Even have all the songs burned to several CDs for the trip. My head is filled with lyrics. I may also begin my audiobook of Carson McCullers’s The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.

I’m going through some hyperactive euphoria again, this contradictory feeling of the scary and exciting unknown. The best part about hanging out with Darren is that each of us understands exactly how the other feels, even though we may not understand it in ourselves. Something which is especially important right now, even though I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.

I just need to get away for a while.

I had Darren over from Toronto for the weekend. We were going to do a movie marathon at the theatre — three in a day — but the movies all sucked. Disturbia? Georgia Rule? Please. Instead, I bought the first season of Six Feet Under, and we finished the roughly 11 hour season over two days. Now I can re-watch it with Bronwen and lend it to Pat. To be honest, I’d seen up to the second season before, but I was too stoned to remember most of it.

Darren also gave me a nice tea container. It’s rather large, since I buy my tea 50mg at a time, but better too big than too small. He also got me some chai tea, considered a wellness blend. When I asked him what for, he couldn’t give me a reason. I love gifts for no reason.

We shared our tattoo ideas, and his was the Chinese character for love on his back. Darren and Bronwen are the some of the few people I can talk openly with about love. We’re such hopeless romantics. We tell each other that we’ll never be married, not to be self-depracating, but to be honest with ourselves. We have our ideals, and we’ll never settle for anything less. It’s comforting to know that we’re not alone in our quixotic beliefs.

Darren and I had originally planned on driving up together, but the timing didn’t work out, so we arrived when we could and played it by ear. Bronny was the point of my visit, while Darren was there to see Lindsay. After a driving from pub to pub, each one full of St. Patty’s day partiers adorned with green horns and holding green pints, the four of us ended up at a small restaurant, and eventually at Lindsay’s house.

It was Bronny who made the most interesting comment to me afterwards. “Darren needs to be with someone…deep”, she said, “Someone intellectual”. I still wonder what made her think so. What did we talk about? As far as I could remember, there was no particularly interesting discussion, just a bunch of us hanging out.

But she was right.

Exactly one year ago today, I was doing this. Even though the annual party at Chris and Clarmen’s actually starts on the 25th, I really see it as a boxing day party, the way a New Year’s party really starts on the 31st of December.

That night we used the excuse of going to Timmies for all the parents as a way out of the house to have a session. Unfortunately, this meant remembering about a dozen drink orders, something that proves difficult under the influence.

In chronological order:

1. We met up at the house, where Darren’s fingers brave the turtles
2. A session occurred outside, and on the way to Timmies we introduced Chris to Dreamtheater (hence the music selection)
3. An order is made for about a dozen drinks with great difficulty
4. We drove back to play Slap Hand, which is a variation on Slap Jack, except the pile is hit every time the correct number is called (and for increased difficulty we played with +/- rules where the pile is only hit if the number spoken is an addition or subtraction of a different specified number)
5. Darren randomly deals everyone a hand of hold ‘em and plays it through, and this causes me to make fun of his obvious addiction
6. Darren precisely deals a full hand of 13 cards for a game of Asshole, while talking, for which I count my cards in disbelief and finally realize just how much he plays cards

Other signs of how stoned we were:

• Darren and Chris’s voices drop an octave, while my voice raises two (two!)
• I can’t keep my jittery hands under control
• The way Chris says, “Just awesome guys. Awesome.”
• At one point we have to stop to count to the right number in Slap Hand
• I laugh, a lot

This year, today, Lam joined us instead since Darren is off in Las Vegas.

True friends stab you in the front
Keep you from getting what you want
When one more fix could kill you
They help you realize that
You’re more and less than you first had believed
You’ve so much to give and there’s so much you need
Shortcuts through graveyards and a brand new way to breathe
Three thousand miles just to learn
All that’s gold does not all shine
And helping words aren’t always kind
When one more kiss could kill you
They help you realize that
You’re more and less than you first had believed
You’ve so much to give and there’s so much you need
Shortcuts through graveyards and a brand new way to breathe
Three thousand miles just to learn
How to let my guard down

—Thrice,The Beltsville Crucible

When you look back at the problems you faced a year ago, they seem insignificant compared to the problems you face now. Finding out how things end up, and seeing the path that your actions have paved, makes everything passed seem simple and logical. Even knowing this, I still look back on a time when I was faced with a troubling dilemma, a situation where I continue to wonder what I may have done differently. At the time, I brought my troubles up to Darren, a person with whom I could always confide without being judged.

His advice was to give no advice at all. He told me that he understood how I dealt with my problems, being one to always weigh the options carefully, and that he knew I would make the right decision. Perhaps being his older cousin, the one he himself has always turned to for advice, made the situation strange to him. Nonetheless, it was the first time I had experienced such a trust, and it was heartening to know that someone respected me enough to put his faith in me before I knowing what my choice was.

I admitted this to John, and he told me that the worst mistake he could make was assuming that I would make the right decisions. As he put it, it’s his job to keep me in check and make me constantly question the things that I do. Of course, he always presents things tactfully, so he doesn’t end up hurting more than helping.

Neither Darren or John is more correct than the other, because it all depends on the relationship. You need some friends to understand what you do. You need other friends to stab you in the front. I know I can count on Darren to accept my decisions, and I know I can count on John to give me the honest truth when I need it. The important part is the respect that goes both ways. Without respect, an opinion is meaningless. My introduction to the dominant/submissive lifestyle has given this even more significance.

Gimmie a girl who I can respect enough to understand this, and who can respect me enough to be her crucible.

The Thrice = Love Series

1. Introduction
2. The Journey
3. As The Crucible
4. Rock It
5. The Rush
6. Far From The End

Went home for the weekend, spent it with Darren. It was a gloomy few days; cloudy, humid, and generally uncomfortable.

At one point, Darren asked me if it felt like home, or whether my apartment here has taken the role. I couldn’t really answer him at the time. I just knew that they feel different. We lit up in a park that I used to play in while I was still in elementary school, and it felt odd to be stoned in a beautifully empty playground in the middle of Saturday, surrounded by all these upper-middle class houses with their pools and patios. Places that aren’t comfortable, but familiar.

I don’t know why I didn’t figure this out before, but I guess the good thing is that I know better now. Maybe it was all too simple to see.

Friendship is all or nothing. Friends are the all, the ones I’d give my life for, the ones that I unconditionally accept. Non-friends are the nothing, the ones I couldn’t care less about. The ones that don’t fit in either category, due to insufficient information to make such a decision, are acquaintances (and some remain acquaintances forever).

Unconditional acceptance is the toughest part of friendship, because it’s the biggest commitment. It’s the biggest reason that I consider such few people to be my friends. It’s so easy to walk away when people change, when people grow apart. It’s not so easy to accept and understand, especially for someone as selfish and with as little tolerance as me. A friend is a friend for life.

I love you, Aaron.

I love you, Darren.

I love you, John.

I love you, Pat.

I’ve been back for two days, and I’m still busy. I haven’t played a game of WC3 in over a week and a half. I think people would generally be worried about me if I told them this without letting them know that I didn’t have access to a decent computer. I can honestly say that the last two weeks have been the best trip home I’ve ever had.

I’ll never forget driving to the park to blaze with Darren and Chris or Jeff or Jerry. The park was always abandoned at that time of night, surrounded by a field on one side, and a row of middle-class houses on the other. I always suspected that the people eating dinner with their blinds open knew that we were doing something illicit when sparks would light up our faces in the blackness of the field. Standing in the middle of the playground, with its sand-covered tables or dual-sided slide contraptions, made me feel comfortably at peace. The area was devoid of traffic (and hence noise) and there was no light pollution to dilute the glamour of the glittering sky.

Afterwards, getting hungry, we would drive to the McDonalds drive-through (since the regular joint was closed at that time of night), and order an inordinate amount of food. Eating would always consist of parking in a nearby lot, lit from long lamps that seemed to want to touch the sky, and rolling down the Civic’s windows. The wide, open space of the parking lot would rarely see anyone drive through, and we were left eating comfortably in silence (albeit with the hum of the A/C in the background), when food never tasted so good.

We would hit the closest Timmies afterwards, needing coffee and somehow more food. The place was always empty, and from two to four in the morning we were the only customers, getting two large teas and two cheese strudels please. I wondered how much money could have been made by staying open 24 hours a day, paying the two employees working the night shift while seeing us as the only customers, purchasing food but staying well over the courtesy limit. I’ll never forget how brightly lit the place was, with it’s lugubrious employee seemingly mopping the floor for an eternity while Chris and Darren chatted endlessly about the more humourous aspects of their friends facial features. I would look out the window and see cars pass by on the main road every so often, wondering how I’ve missed such a good time my whole life.

Time spent with John was just as good. We watched Elizabeth (Geoffrey Rush and Fanny Ardent had the best parts), The Transporter (terrible), The Good Thief (very good), Jackass Movie (just as good the second time), and Better Luck Tomorrow (very enjoyable). We bought Timesplitters 2 for his PS2 and played quite a bit of co-operative campaign and switched to deathmatch when we felt the need to match testosterone.

He would give me a ride home every night which ended up taking about an hour due to the DVP being closed for construction. We rode along the dark city streets, listening to Air Supply and talked about anything from implanted human desires to how fucked up our relationships have been to our future plans.

I realized that, as good a time as I was having at home, I still wouldn’t move back there. I’m comfortable here, and I’m able to much better appreciate the time I spend with my friends or family if it’s not too often. I have something to look forward to.

Something that is rare.

Darren and I were talking about the unrequited feelings we’ve experienced, and he asked me if I ever felt like no other person could ever match up to the person I felt the strongest about. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I was afraid of the truth, and I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I realize that it’s something I have to face, because it has affected my relationships.

Yes, I am very scared.

Sometimes I feel emotionally numb, as if I’ll never have the same feelings again. Infatuations end up being silly frissons. I’m not sure whether it was the intensity of my feeling, the fact that it was simply the first time, or even if it’s the fact that I haven’t met the right person yet.

It terrifies me when a female has many qualities that I feel are important for a relationship, but I have no feelings for them. It makes me think that I have some set of lofty standards that can’t be met. I feel horrible about it. I feel like a monster.

How can I know what I feel is true? How can one be sure of such fickle, consciousness altering emotions? It’s so difficult to remain cerebral in such circumstances, especially when the absence of such an adjective is what defines such emotions.

I’m barely scratching the surface on a subject I have so little experience about. What can someone like me say about such things? I should humble myself to others. I only know that I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’ll never fall in love again.