Brick Pollitt

Whenever my heart gets broken I seek comfort in the usual suspects- music that reminds me of him, reliving memories that made me happy, scrutinizing shared words and gestures...watching Cat on a Hot Tim Roof on loop.

I loved it long before it was my coping tool. The performances, the colors, the actors..the entire aesthetic is absolute perfection to me. But I watch it now because through Maggie that Cat I get to talk to my Brick. The Brick that, unsurprisingly, injured me this time. ( sadly there have been a few now)

You know the type... they start out brilliantly from the beginning of life. The strong, charming, care free boys. Excelling in most things, especially anything physical, they draw admirers instantly and bask in the love of girls of all shapes and sizes. They never try to fit in or follow trends because they set them. Their chiseled bodies make any outfit look perfect even if it’d seen better days. They wake up, brush their teeth, fuss with their hair for 30 seconds and run out the door chasing another thing that they desire that day.

Professional athletes or surgeons or rock stars... always the ones to set the mood in the room, always the ones that leave and are not the ones left behind. They glide through life with such ease... they can usually fix cars and boats and doors and anything else that’s broken without ever having been taught how to do those things. They thrive outdoors and chase adrenalin in all its forms- and so you follow them on hikes and bike rides and fishing trips and skiing because you are addicted to them and because you’ll get another rush of desire when you see how they look at you when you excel at the thing they love... what a fucking stupid circle that is.

Being with them is exciting (even if you thought you lost all ability to be entertained)- great conversations, constant laughter and mind blowing sex because there are no rules between you two. Seemingly, life is so easy for them- they figured it out. While YOU are consumed by thoughts and inconsistencies, they tell you life is simple. When you’re happy you stay. When you're not... you leave. And so they chase happiness ... new country, new sport, new car... new girl. Over and over because there has never been and never will be a person to tell them “no.” Not until they get old and lose their charm but by then their long suffering girlfriend would have become the long suffering wife- content with ignoring the painful moments for the price of being “Mrs X.”

Being with them is like a drug. You get addicted to the idea that maybe.. just maybe.. two alphas can be together. Because you grew up with movies and books that made it seem possible. Because you finally feel like you don’t have to be the strong one all the time. Because someone stronger is there to catch you. And that feeling is what I end up chasing. Curling up against a big muscular chest at night and feeling safe. Being tossed in the air like a feather and caught in giant hands... knowing that anywhere we go doesn’t require a plan because it will be perfect anyway. Insidiously the desire for more of this grows and it’s too late before you realize your heart has joined the fan club of the Bricks. And worst of all.. now it has given you ideas of the future. It wants more. It wants a lifetime of this. But that lifetime usually belongs to the girl next door they already know. Because your alpha doesn’t want an equal. They want “comfort” and “safety” and “easy.” And hard as I may try... easy has never been a word to define me. And even when I’ve tried in the past (mistakenly) to change and bend with the boy it’s never enough. Because like a wolf they know your core and any desire for you is trumped by the need to continue to do whatever they want whenever they want it.

Perhaps that’s too simplistic. Perhaps I’m missing the necessary details to truly define this... to understand this. And when I ache I turn to the film. Where a gorgeous strong girl fights for her handsome broken husband and says the words I long to say. To watch her win her love back scratches my itch. I pick at that wound daily.. I’m sick of it, frankly. I wish I could stop feeling like shit.  But I cannot help doing it again the next day. Because every night it does scar a little bit. And with time it heals... though much slower than it should. And in the end I still have hope.. that one day, my Brick is going to choose me.

Te semper et in perpetuum amabo (a study in fiction)

The first time I came to California was when we landed in America. I was 11 years old and the trip was a blur… We stopped in Los Angeles for a quick layover before flying to Vegas. It was the first time I breathed American air and all I remember is the piercing blue sky and spiky palm trees waving in the breeze like skater boys nodding to us with their tussled mops of hair.

 I didn’t get to see the ocean until a few years later when my grandparents moved to LA.  Nothing can compare to seeing that all-encompassing mass of water spread out infinitely in front of you… its strength and power overwhelming yet not frightening…the impression softened by the gentle lull of the waves hitting the sand.

That sound…I’ll give anything for that sound to be the first thing I wake up to every day.

California immediately became my love, as I imagine it does for most people who see it. And despite being so familiar, has remained effusive and, dare I say it, unattainable. Perhaps my love life is the root. Over the years I have traversed the desert hundreds of times…first to visit family…then a string of boyfriends who have all, strangely enough, originated or ended up in CA.

Driving down the immaculately groomed streets of Newport I always try to memorize every detail …the whimsical street art, the colorful doors, the names of the tiny stores that manage to exist despite selling plain items at inflated prices. I hungrily absorb the fit moms clad in Lululemon as they push their precious cargoes in designer strollers; the preppy teens, too blond and too tan from their daily sun worship; the retirees who leisurely sit in small cafes and savor their coffee…Everything is illuminated in golden sunlight and the roar of the ocean is never far away…the air is saturated with sea salt and a light breeze beckons towards the water.

LA always feels hot and saturated…with people, cars and buildings upon buildings upon buildings. So many landmarks fly by. So many memories of days past and times well spent. The city feels like a giant animal belly filled to the brim with tiny insects..all scurrying along to accomplish their tasks for the day, trampling and crawling over each other to get closer to the sun.  Up on the hills the mansions turn their cold facades towards the ocean and raise their gates high so that no one can disturb the expensive peace of their inhabitants. The hipsters and the cool kids duck in an out of galleries and obscure studios…I am mesmerized by their patterns. I wonder what that life would’ve been like. I love it still.

I drive down PCH. The car glides along the edge, so close that I pretend I’m  driving on the water. It curves and pivots in a symmetry reminiscent of a waltz…and takes me down the most beautiful coves and valleys. Malibu is it’s own world. So achingly posh and deceptively casual that one can start to believe one belongs. But Californians always recognize a stranger. The see the eyes thirsting for the salty water…the hands nervously grasping grains of sand…those little granules running through my hands like minutes slipping away…How do these people live here? How did they manage to stay in Nirvana? Do they have unhappy days? Is that even possible when you have the beach at your command whenever you wish? I grasp at straws. 

This life…this beach life in this perfect place… I wonder why it can’t be mine. I’ve wondered that since I first met you.

My love for this place is irrevocably tied to my love for you. The places I see are colored by my memories… they are the precious jewels saved in a far away corner of my mind. Like an avid collector I have stored them and locked them away yet, once in a while, I summon them and tenderly relieve the moments, taking care to polish the details…to clean the crevices, so that they’re strengthened and protected…so that they last forever.

The secret beaches we snuck into…the wild roar of the ocean at night that accompanied many of our adventures..the smell of steaks sizzling on the grill and the deep red wine decanting on the table..Beast of Burden and 2 AM…sunblock covered hands and pervasive sand in my carryon…I taste the sun on your skin…I run my fingers along your tendons and bones and trace your life as I fall asleep next to you.

Time mercilessly flies and before I blink the weekend’s over. And I am forced out. It’s time to leave and California expels me again. 

I want to stay! Why can’t I ever stay? Why can’t I stay forever? But no, career, taxes, family and friends.. all perfectly valid reasons to return home.

I have an almost primal need to be near that water. To walk along the edge as water licks my toes. To fall asleep as the waves enter the bedroom through open windows. 

To hear the ocean crash against the cliffs and retreat back again…

....to fall asleep next to you again curled up and scratching at your heart to let me in. 

Je t'aime...Je ne t'aime plus

Ugh... it's been a while again, hasn't it? I must admit I thought about you, my little blog. I thought about you often. But I could not bring myself to write anything...for a long time. New move...new job...new kitten...new boyfriend...None of that seemed to be enough to open myself up again.


Until now I guess.

Another break-up has taken place. This one much more short-lived and bearable in terms of pain and depression.

Which made me think...does the quality of a relationship (it's intensity, it's length, it's milestones) have a direct correlation to the duration and quality of the break-up? I suppose it is not an exact relationship. Of course there can be short-lived but "once-in-a-lifetime" romances that devastate you when they end. And there are the "dragged out much too long" monotonies that may end fairly amicably and, even, kindly. But it seems in my life so far the correlation has been direct.

When a relationship ends...no matter how long or brief it was...it will still always hurt. And it is such a special type of hurt isn't it? I wonder if I could ever describe what one feels in a break-up to my child? That special hopeless, dull, unfathomable ache that takes over like a black abyss into which you feel yourself slipping.
It physically hurts because you feel actual pangs in your heart and your stomach.
It hurts repeatedly because every time a thought catches you of guard and a memory flickers before you the pain intensifies and doubles you over.
It hurts so much more whenever you wake up - for a few moments you are barely awake and safe and content...and then you remember what broke you and the tears flow and the hopelessness takes hold as its cold jaws grip your heart. Thus weeks in bed are spent...eyes are puffy...wine bottles empty.

It's the emptiness that catches you.. that place the person you loved had filled (a weird place you created for them in your life) is now empty and it does not disappear right away under the weight of the interests and stresses of daily existence.
How fascinating are humans? A stranger had a necessary, vital role in your well-being...and now they are no longer there. And even though how they impacted your life is, largely, your doing...and can be easily undone...you feel empty. And sometimes lost. And what is the absolute worst...you feel hopeless. You wonder if this was the last time you were loved. If this was the one person you should have tried harder with.  Should have changed for???

Yeah, no. FUCK THAT. I am all for (sensible) compromise but I will be damned if I change a single thing about me for another human being that is not related to me by blood. I am an adult now, for better or worse. And a pretty great one actually. So to change for someone because I do not want to face loneliness?? That is just absurd.

Happiness comes in many forms and this, of course, won't be my last relationship. Nor my last break up I imagine. But marriage and co-habitation remain big question marks for me...I am truly unsure if these are things I want or need. Perhaps my opinions will change with time. Currently, willingly living a shorter life because I want a male companion seems ludicrous (there is actual science behind this should you choose to investigate further).

This one hurt...But given how short and inconsequential it was, the pangs only lasted a few hours. And now it's hard to even remember why we dated in the first place. A fleeting thought here and there...but really nothing more.

Interest in the male species as a whole is peaking again which means I must be feeling better. My friendships and pursuits have not been impacted and I move on...again. I'd like to say stronger and wiser....but I've always been strong. The wiser part is a work in progress.

La Reve D'ete

Hello old friend...it's been a while since I've confided in you. Life became hectic and there was not much to say...Let's try again?

Today the wind changed. Summer has been creeping in slowly...in small bursts...a warm breeze deep in the night...a random hot day on a cold week... a solitary flower bursting out earlier than it's meant to as if its coming will defy the laws of nature.
But today...today summer came to stay. And I am so happy to see it.

As the sun slowly melts into the horizon it colors the sky in the most beautiful reds...it looks like love. It feels like a passionate embrace. The air is heavy with the remains of the day and one can almost see it sigh as the sun disappears into the landscape. It is so so comforting...so calming...like the embrace of someone you call your home.

One of my most favorite times of the year are the lush warm summer nights. When the night is pitch black and the cicadas are singing. I love nothing more than to look out onto the lights of MY city with a glass of dark red in my hand. The windows are open (the only time I let nature in) and the night envelopes the bedroom, quietly rustling among the sheets, carrying with it such restful, dream-less sleep that is so sorely desired and so rarely attained.

When I was younger summer meant never ending parties at our house. Every night people would come and evenings were spent over yummy dinners and long conversations on the patio...The house was filled with music and laughter. Wine flowed and people danced...so happy to be alive.
I never feel as young as I do in the summer. Never as beautiful or social. I long for it to come. I miss it like an old friend when it is replaced by unwanted seasons.

I yearn for hot desert nights. The heat waves fill my veins and make me warm again. They calm my mind and relax the chains I bind myself with every day. The desert whispers at night...it softly speaks of life...it searches for meaning. It is a secret meant for only a few. Perhaps this is as close to meditation that I will ever get.

Someday my house will again be filled with people. Soirees and fetes and dances, a kaleidoscope of life, will never end. And each night...when the world sleeps...I will look out onto the lights of my city and the stars burning fervently eons away and feel ALIVE.

Old skin

It's funny....It's been a while since we broke..yet, once in a while, I find myself missing HIM. Like a whiff of a stranger's perfume or a fleeting image, a memory of him appears and creates a ...pause.

I shake it off. Memories of him no longer make me sad...or even melancholy. I can listen to, what used to be, our song and not feel that familiar stabbing pain in my heart I learned to count as my own when we were together.

But once in a while...once in a while a song comes along and I revert. Memories of our wintery love flash back...I long for my friend. I long for the  LOVE I had with a handsome man who loved me so passionately. I mourn what we used to be. I close my eyes...and wish I was back in his arms and all was right with the world. The future that I once held in my hand...the future with grey eyes and soft lips...is gone forever. It was never "to be"...but the pain remains. Despite how strongly I convinced myself that it was the right choice.
I KNOW with the entirety of my being that it was the right choice. But my heart misses nonetheless...especially on cold dark nights like tonight.

I blink and the moment passes. He was not the ONE.
...all the is left now are killer songs.

Los Caprichos

Masks...all I see around me is masks. 

They begin floating around me, perfect white faces that exude a light that can only come from quality porcelain. They are somewhat plump, illuminated, yet without definitive characteristics.
They spin and spin around...despite my best efforts to focus on the lush darkness I crave they force themselves into my vision again and again. Not offensive but definitely NOT helpful.

Suddenly black streaks of paint begin to appear on their faces. A streak here...a streak there...the masks do not seem to notice. But the black paint spreads...it discolors them and makes them change...
as if in a reaction the masks begin to shrink and grow...they wither away only to come back enlarged...they run away and come right back, incessantly. I reach out for solace. My thoughts won't let me rest.

They aggressively mutate into distorted faces that now show expression. They scream and laugh...they push themselves into every corner of my vision...they bring forth thoughts I've worked all day to suppress. I turn away...I push them away...I hide to no avail.
They mock my efforts to silence them. Over and over they change, they spin and fly, they taunt...And no matter how hard I shut my eyes they are omnipresent. My darkness...my lush darkness disappears. It cannot compete with filthy little masks that shut it out.  Ravenous masks devour my darkness...the rip it to shreds and fill it with bright white.
I toss and turn...Hours fly by.

...a little furry paw stretches across my face. I hear soft purring- someone obviously has no problems sleeping. How I envy her sometimes...to me sleep has been an elusive retreat for so long. I chase it nightly. That peaceful rest that makes one feel refreshed and satisfied... is a rarity for me.

Perhaps tonight it will come...Lofticries.