Playlist

Dust begins to fall, to the ground
The air is cold and thin
Thoughts are haunting me as I look around
This will never end and I'll bleed forever
--"Clairvoyant Disease" Avenged Sevenfold

Alan commented yesterday that my current positive mood and outlook was quite possibly limited, contained in something called "recursive fractal levels." Despite the mild aneurysm that phrase gave me, I think I know what it means and I'm almost certain he's right. I had a good week. I know things that will help me through. But I need to constantly remind myself of those things, because anxiety lurks around every corner.

Such was the case last night. A recent event caused some friction in our uneasy detente. I termed it lying. X laughingly euphemized (it might be a word) it as "withholding the truth." Honestly people, I can't make this shit up.

Now, I'm well past the point of thinking this marriage is savable and I'm very rapidly coming to the conclusion that I wouldn't want it salvaged anyway. Not with the pod person who has come to inhabit X's body. Which doesn't mean there are not issues that need to be discussed, especially in regard to AJ. On Monday, she acted directly in contrast to a request I had made and not only didn't tell me about it, but enlisted AJ in her deception. Of course, being the precocious boy he is, it slipped out, leading to a showdown. Bottom line is she kept this secret from me and told AJ to as well. Yet, when I questioned her, all she did was try to justify her actions.

This is the most frustrating part I'm dealing with. I've handled this affair with relative decency, even as my heart breaks and my public and private humiliation peaks. And all I've asked for in return is some respect in regards to not flaunting this Douchebag Poet in my face, in regards to treating me more like the honorable person I am, instead of the villainous role in which she's cast me. She's violated both those requests in the last week. Her first move is deceit. It's like after three months of sneaking around, she knows no other way to conduct herself.

Furthermore, she's projecting. Big time. I made a conciliatory statement last night on another matter and her immediate reaction--before I even managed to complete my sentence--was to accuse me of some vast conspiracy against her. She's so used to her own treachery, that she sees nefarious plots everywhere (except, I'm sure, where Prince Douchebag is concerned). This is what I'm dealing with. And while I recognize she's not in her right mind, it still hurts to be thrust into this erroneous portrayal. And it makes it hard to stay on the high road.

*******************

I think I've told the story several times in this space about the first time I had my heart broken. She was my first love, an unbelievable beauty, who threw me over after four months of 11th grade bliss for a...well...he was a douchebag. It took me some time to get over that first painful split, but the sharpest memory I have of the event is of Phil Collins.

I sobbed my way home, flipped on MTV and there was Phil and Rachel Ward and Bryan Brown and Jeff Bridges trying to find their way clear "Against All Odds." Even now, a full 22 years later, I can't stand that fucking song.

How can I just let you walk away,
just let you leave without a trace
When I stand here taking every breath
with you, ooh-ooh
You're the only one
who really knew me at all
How can you just walk away from me,
when all I can do is watch you leave
Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain
and even shared the tears
You're the only one
who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now,
oh there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me,
just the memory of your face
Ooh take a look at me now,
well there's just an empty space
And you coming back to me is against all odds
and that's what I've got to face

Ouch.

Like many people, I turn to music for entertainment, for relief, for inspiration. But when you're where I am right now, all of a sudden, you start hearing the lyrics. Often for the first time, especially those that seem to twist the knife.

I found you here, now please just stay for a while
I can move on with you around
I hand you my mortal life, but will it be forever?
I'd do anything for a smile, holding you 'til our time is done
We both know the day will come, but I don't want to leave you

So, what if I never hold you, yeah, or kiss your lips again?
Woooaaah, so I never want to leave you and the memories for us to see
I beg don't leave me
--"Seize the Day" Avenged Sevenfold

Yeah, that one hit the iPod this morning and while it has been one of my most frequently played songs over the past four months, only today did I delve into its meaning (the guitar break/solo had always been my focal point). Then, the very next song was...

Take my photo off the wall
If it just won't sing for you
'Cause all that's left has gone away
And there's nothing there for you to prove

Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems likes such fun
Until you lose what you had won

Give me back my point of view
'Cause I just can't think for you
I can hardly hear you say
What should I do, well you choose
--"Look What You've Done" JET

"Give me back my point of view." That's kick ass. I might have to use that.

If Phil Bleeping Collins is the guy who takes me back to 1984, then it's gotta be Eddie Vedder who will forever be held responsible for The Great Breakup of 2006. "Black" was OUR song. Even before we got married. But its seat at the top of the heap was cemented on our wedding day. After the ceremony, which took place on a yacht in Marina del Rey, we rented a limo to ferry friends and family to a few bars in Hollywood. The first--and turns out only--place we went was 3 of Clubs. We weren't there 15 minutes when the dude on stage with the acoustic guitar, without prompting, launched into "Black." I grabbed X and we went to the dance floor, which we had all to ourselves for the entire song. I was so moved, so surprised, that I gave the guy $20.

(Quick aside: Our anniversary is on Sunday. I went ahead and bought myself a present. I'll tell ya all about it--if its interesting--next week.)

Now? I think the programmers at my local radio stations are trying to tilt me, since "Black" has come on roughly 148 times in the last month when I've been in my car. I can't switch the station quickly enough.

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a star
In somebody else's sky, but why
Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine
--"Black" Pearl Jam

It's funny, because those lines used to signify the longing I had for her before we got together. I feared I'd never be able to bring her to me, that her life would never exist with me in it. Now, the words take on a whole different meaning.

************************

With each passing moment, these conversations, deceptions, justifications make it more clear that the woman I fell in love with no longer exists. It has me wondering, however, if she ever did. To be sure, there is ample evidence that this blackness inside her has always been there, this innate ability to casually and repeatedly dissemble. Perhaps I just refused to see it. Perhaps it was hidden, comforted by the love she had for me. As that love waned, it became more prominent, and now she soothes its ascension with love for another. Another Pearl Jam song comes to mind, as I wager on the outcome of her future relationships: Spin the Black Circle.

'Round and 'round she'll go, repeating the dance. The details may differ, but she'll always end up back where she started. And woe be to those who get taken along for the finite ride.