night, cut short. april 18th.

i've just felt off all weekend, timing-wise.

and today is no exception.

i'm still tired, but not feeling as awful as yesterday.

i woke up at 830, after going to sleep at maybe 330.

i don't know that i'll recover from all of this until next saturday or sunday.

so yesterday was overcast and made me sad.

i spent a lot of time waiting. i spent a lot of time cooking. i spent more time waiting. i spent time worrying.

i had left my coat at work, so i dragged nate with me to go get it. so that was one good decision.

i don't know what my problem is. i think i just wanted a little fun and excitement after the way that i spent most of my week feeling. and there was all this intense building excitement leading up to events. and then strange disappointment. i wanted excitement.

and yesterday (day) was a lack of that. i felt like i wasted nate's day here. i felt myself slipping into old habits. cooking was good though. i hadn't done it on this scale since the day i met rob crow.

it was maybe the second time in my life that i nursed a hangover with a beer. i tried food first, but that didn't work. the blueberry beer did the trick. then i was just nerves. waiting.

eventually, i got ready.

then it was time to head to the show, and nate got ready.

as terrified as i was of having pictures taken of myself, i was excited to do something i'd never done before. but the chance was dashed, and that was unfortunate. because i was really looking forward to the prospect of the ease of it.

but finally we went.

and we were pulling money out of an atm and their van rolled up behind us, and people started piling out. i turned around, and recognition of a familiar face followed. it was impeccable timing.

so we got a beer and sat down to catch up.

it was nice. it's kinda surreal talking to someone only virtually and trying to decipher their tone in their words. and i suppose it's just him, but it's also funny when you sit across from someone and you still can't decipher what is real and what isn't.

after a beer, we all arm wrestled each other. i didn't ever win.

we talked about being broke. we talked about writing only a little. he talked about his life before he moved, and his life after. i talked about leaving ever, but only a little. he talked about being hungry. and lonely. we talked about being alone. we talked about friendships. he talked about not talking. he talked about drinking. we talked about going to shows. he talked about photography.

the bands were all very loud, so not much was discussed during sets.

nate read everyone's palms. i'm going to live a long time. i'm going to be in good health. i'm going to have one kid. i'm nearly positive these were all the same things the palm reader in atlantic city told me.

and i have one true love.

as if i didn't already know that. i will be permanently fucked over that one, i have decided. it will never go away. i will talk about coffee until the day that i die.

anyways, kit was having a shit day and night, and cut her stay only a little short. we talked hurriedly over cigarettes during sets, trying to cram in all the conversations to be had away from boys' ears.

she stayed until he read, and then she ended up leaving.

the band played. there was this song that i really genuinely loved. something about it struck a chord in me that very nearly made me cry. not that the song did or would have on its own, but the mood and frame of mind i was in was perfectly suited. and wouldn't it have been fitting to cry at the bar twice in three days? after this week, the answer is yes.

but i didn't cry.

and like staring down the quickly draining sand in an hourglass, time was running out, and i wasn't quite finished with it yet.

but it doesn't stand still. and i could also have fallen asleep there, given a more comfortable chair to sit in.

nate and i were discussing going, but it didn't stand a chance.

he asked to take portraits quickly before leaving, and we went into a gritty bathroom for lighting sake.

there was no lock on the door, so people kept trying to push their way in.

i was too nervous. i always look worried in pictures, even if i'm having a good time. but i felt faint. and he told me i looked nervous, after asking me if i was.

it is from the place of self-consciousness. it is from the place of a total lack of esteem. his photos are so beautiful, the girls are just perfect. and to think of myself as being mixed in with that is just too hard to accept. i couldn't figure out why he was wasting his precious film on me.

having someone stand one foot away from you with a camera so close you could practically fog the lens with your breath was unnerving. if i hadn't driven, i'd have had more to drink over the course of the evening, and that would have improved the situation, settled me down a little. but i didn't even have a buzz, because i had a ways to drive.

he commented that i wouldn't look into the camera. and then kinda made me. gentle instructions on a few poses. look into the camera. look into the camera.

i was staring into the lens. i could see that the aperture was very open. and i was thinking that by staring it down, i was looking into his eye through it. and i just kept wondering what he saw when he was looking at me. besides a scared little girl.

after a lens change, my reflection was in the lens, and i stared that down. i stared at my pores, my scars, the shine on my face. and tried not to worry about it, because i know how unfocused his photographs sometimes are, and that anything he touches is rendered beautiful.

and then it was over. he took a picture of nate, and we talked for only a few minutes before everyone got kicked out of the bar.

there was gentle nudging in the direction of a suburban adventure. and as much as i wanted him to feel less lonely and alone, and as much as i wanted to feel less alone and lonely, i just couldn't do it. i wanted for one night to curl up, and say 'you know? it's not so bad all the time. i am now your friend.'

he didn't want to separate himself from the band, for a few reasons, which i understood, but wished against.

so we didn't go the house after the show. and he didn't come home with us.

it was far, it was 2 am. i couldn't have stayed awake, if we'd gone, if i'd tried. and it didn't make sense to pass out after getting somewhere kinda far from home when all i wanted to do was talk more.

and it made me wish that i'd been able to sleep in yesterday. if i'd been more well rested, i'd have gone in a second.

but i didn't.

there was an open invitation to visit him. i sincerely stated an intention to do so. and there were goodbye hugs.

and we drove home. and i had a waffle. and i crawled into bed feeling entirely defeated by my own self.

i asked if i could have the second pillow (i only have three in total) to curl up with and pretend, like i do every night, that i have someone to curl up with.

i curled up with the extra pillow. and without a word, nate rolled over and put his arm around me, which was the sweetest thing.

for one night, last night, just before falling asleep, i didn't feel completely cold and sad and alone.

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