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twig visits ground zero

March 30, 2014

This is not a post about 9/11.

Now that I’ve established that, let me also say that I am in no way trivializing the events of 9/11 when I say that the particular venue I find myself in tonight is my metaphorical ground zero. It is the place I came to see TLTL perform and where I first gathered that MTIA might be interested in me.

He was wearing a pink t-shirt with kittens on it. TLTL was being a jackwagon, as usual, and I was on my way out the door as MTIA walked in. His face lit up when he saw me, and he grabbed me in a hug.

I would spend time with him here many times after, sometimes after closing time, giggling over absinthe with the owner.

Never again.

I started shaking long before I got to the club. Just nearing this part of the city is enough to make me shake. At least TLTL is gone on tour again and I have no worries of seeing him here. I’m hiding in a dark corner, watching my friend’s band play an assortment of rock cover songs I’ve not thought about in many years.

At the comedy show the other night, walking into the venue – the largest theatre in the city – my friend said, “This place still weirds me out… my dad married one of his several wives here.”

“Jesus God!” I stared at him, nearly tripping on the ostentatious red velvet carpeting. I have met his father a few times, oddly never in the context of my friendship with his son, and yet his fame still blows my mind.

I am happy. No. I am… nostalgic. No. I am still fucking sad.

If my friend’s band would play “Tyler” by The Toadies, well, maybe then I’d be less sad. I will settle for a very dark cover of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence.” It doesn’t quite mitigate that during set break, the club played a song MTIA loved, one from a cd of his by a band I can never remember the name of that’s still in my car, piled into a box with the rest of his crap I’ve found around the house or under the seats in my car.

incidentally, am I the only person who has never been able to take Black Sabbath or Ozzie Osbourne seriously?

Because I’m a bad friend, or really more accurately  because my friend and I have really never been all that close, I had never listened to his band before; tonight has been a pleasant surprise, a happy reminder of so many songs I have loved and yet forgotten over the passing of time. I should be less of shitty friend, pay more attention to what my friends are doing, however rarely we may see each other. The fact that I’ve seen this particular friend  twice in less than a week may indicate a new development in my otherwise non-existent social life.

And apparently there is some sort of vibe between him and I, at least according to the two young guys who took the empty seats left in my hidden corner.

I laughed at them. Heartily.

I think it’s sweet they thought he was my partner, sure, but I’m not into him for the same reasons I am not currently fostering children: however together things may appear on the surface, I wouldn’t dare subject someone else to the utter trainwreck that is anything deeper than the facade I am usually able to do skillfully present.

I suppose I can see their logic, as the only person with whom they have seen me speak is my friend, between sets. But it still sort of seems like a bit of a leap to me.

Eventually, the night ends, as nights always do, and there is an awkward moment between my friend and I. Maybe it’s because we are awkward people. Maybe it’s because I did actually ask him out five or six years ago. Maybe it’s because there is a vibe.

I don’t want there to be a vibe. His band covered a Tool song, an old favorite of mine, and the lyrics are utterly apt: I will only complicate you/trust in me and fall as well.

Hell.

I don’t even want him to know me better, lest he should have to face the  trainwreck , even just as a friend.

I’m putting my money on the awkwardness being residual from when I asked him out, or that it’s all completely in my head.

I will call him the bassist. Like the photographer, I will not give him an acronym. I thought it was because he hadn’t yet earned one, and in a sense, that’s true: I think I only assign acronyms to the bitchfaces I’ve met. As annoying as the photographer’s weird on and off behaviors were, they did not warrant an acronym. I’d like the same to remain true for the bassist, which is exactly why I am now going to return to my attempt to isolate myself.

Thank you and goodnight.

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