Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Girl Is On My Mind
girl is on my mind...
try ignore, try to unwind,
but she is on my mind
eyes are in my eyes...
where I've been, how time flies,
when she is in my eyes
she's gentle now, and takes great care
see her standing there
hold me close to you...
not one thing that I would not do
if you hold me close to you
girl is on my mind...
-The Black Keys - Girl Is On My Mind
The Black Keys are an absofuckinglutely wonderful indie blues band that Hayley introduced me to. A few weeks ago I raided her music collection -- hooked up my USB cable to my Zen player and her computer and just soaked it all in. She has amazing taste in music, everything from loud Polish queercore (Dag, I am SO playing them for you!), classic riot grrl punk, female vocalists from all over the place, a bit of Marilyn Manson-esque goth metal, folk music, and pretty Australian rock, and right back to Ani DiFranco, M.I.A., and Kanye West. I always think she's sexy, but when she's talking about music I am completely floored. Intelligence and passion are such attractive qualities, and she has both in droves. Sex is all fine and good, but intellectual stimulation is quite simply a reason for me to stick around.
That and any girl who can get me to a place where I can even stand listening to M.I.A., much less suddenly find her fantastic, is a girl I have to sit up and pay attention to.
We had a nice time on Valentine's Day, too. I got her a rose and made her a Valentine, even though I knew at the back of my mind that she's way too counter-culture for such things. I think she liked it nonetheless. I think there's a lot of sweetness and hidden depths in there underneath all the devil-may-care. We went to my mom's friend's art show on the West Side, and walked along the beach. We watched some seagulls try to swallow a couple of starfish, which was quite something, and we saw the sunset from the pier. It was pretty, even in the crummy pictures Hayley took with her camera phone.
But somehow, despite all the fun and the joy, there's something strange at the back of my mind. My subconscious always knows these things.
I had a sad dream about Kylie the other night, and I'm finding it hard to shake the wistful feeling that it left me with. I haven't thought about her in any way other than a kind-of friend and a girl who -- let's face it -- really hurt me, in months. In this dream I had just gotten back from a trip, probably to Europe, and we were lying on a bed somewhere talking. She asked me, clear as day and not at all self-consciously: "Do you ever think you're beautiful?" I told her sometimes, and then she asked "Do you ever think I'm beautiful?" This question was so much like her at her most vulnerable and her most exposed -- it showed enough insecurity to make me respect the question, but not so much that I felt trapped by it. I replied that the photos she'd posted after I'd gotten back from my trip were amazing. And then I paused and said the kind of thing I'd always like to say in real life but never quite have the guts to follow through with: "You're always beautiful, babe."
Oh what a winning line.
She just smiled and kissed me, and everything dissolved into a lot of red. Then I woke up to P.J. Harvey, completely haunted, and tried to go on with my day.
I doubt this means anything at all, other than that I'm wishing I was more honest with people I care about. That, and I guess I do really want someone with a solid romantic core that I can eventually discover.
Other than that my life is pretty fine these days. I've been watching a lot of the Winter Olympics, and loving it. Gabey and I were in Turin a few years ago, and it is a beautiful city. Women's figure skating and ice dance pretty much rock my world. Skiing and bobsledding (or 'bobsleigh,' as those wackos on TV insist on calling it now) are fairly awesome, and Snowboard Cross is probably the best new sport since, well, women's hockey, which I won't watch because it pisses me off that they're not allowed to bodycheck. What kind of bullshit is that? I'm also royally pissed that they refer to women's skating as "Ladies" (Go fuck yourselves), and that there's no women's ski jumping. I also wish I lived in Scandinavia, so I my country could win a couple more medals rather than constantly coming in 4th. Grrrr.
Work is pretty close to great right now. We hired a new cashier so I'm on the floor almost all the time. In an entirely unprecedented move, The Bossi decided to give their employees a bonus because of all the work we've done in the past months to fill teacher-librarians orders for a huge government educational grant. It was not pocket money either -- they're giving us the equivalent of more than a month's pay. That fucking rules.
The open mike is over for good now, but the last show blew my socks off. Other than a very bad comedian and a few bad singers we know and love, the lineup was great. I was watching a new girl from Nova Scotia called Miriam Jones. She's a young singer-songwriter with a hell of a lot of talent. I bought her cd and introduced myself to her. She's super cute, and she even applied for a job at the bookstore after Jack told her we were hiring.
I also finally told Carrie at work that I'm seeing someone new, and that HER name is Hayley. She took the news well, and was super-supportive, but she recommended that I not tell Jack due to his intense religiosity and the high likelihood that he'll announce he's now praying for my immortal soul. Ugh. The only thing worse than being judged by people you consider friends is being judged AND condescended to by them. So far the only people at work who know are one of the other cashiers (a fairly discreet individual), Cris, and Emma. I'm not thrilled about the idea of the info getting back to Jack via someone else, but in the end, it's my life and I don't need to defend it. For the first time in ages I feel happy and excited about something that is truly mine to appreciate. And no self-righteous preaching can take that from me.
And seeing as it is nearly 2:00 am, I am going to bed.
A memo to those I've sent emails to about my trip to Europe who have NOT responded: If you want to see me, PLEASE write back! I haven't booked my flight yet and can still readjust my dates to suit yours. I miss you all and want very much to see you when I'm over there.
And Dag, I will do better than send you recipes. I will cook for you, in person! How's that for a deal?!
Goodnight everyone.
All my best,
N
