Sunday, May 11, 2014

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, He walks into mine



Let's say I could call you mine.....in an alternate universe.

Your life would be drastically different.

Yes, we might live in the city. Maybe not as swanky as what you're used to, but I'd make you a home. I'd be pleased to make you a home wherever you desired.

Your belly would never be empty at 9:00 pm when you got home from work. You'd never have to stop for a sandwich. I would understand the long hours and the missed connections, and would appreciate the days like yesterday, which had to take some major planning. I'd have something waiting for you, because you work really hard.

I'd rub the tension out of your neck. I'd reenact all of the bland, benign fantasies I've had about you for 5 years but peel you off the ceiling if given the opportunity. I'd treasure the flecks of gray in your thick, dark hair. I'd grasp it with passion. I would kiss you constantly, annoyingly so, probably. I would tout you to all of my friends as the sexiest guy pushing 60 that I've ever laid eyes on. Your ready grin and hearty laugh make me want to be around you more. I get butterflies when we're going to see each other, but you put me at complete ease once you're standing beside me.

(Pardon the formatting issue I have below.) Understandably, your ego is your ego at work. I'm used to that. You don't take it home or out with your friends. Your humility and regular Guyness is very attractive. That's cool. We would laugh at the same crap because we find the same crap funny. Even when I get annoyed with you when I don't get your jokes, you don't get mad. You explain. I appreciate that. We'd talk about things that interest us, not just the daily ins/outs of mundane life. Your brain would almost explode being exposed to me for any great length of time, but you'd wonder how you lived life without it for so long. You'd ride my mania with me for however long it lasted and wouldn't judge me when I'm depressive, knowing that too would pass. I wouldn't feel judged for either mood, actually.  You have never and never would belittle me for what's wrong with me. Being with you is very stabilizing, in fact.  

I wouldn't expect the world and would make my own way in life, because you'd encourage me to do so. I'd anticipate that you'd give your support, as you have, but you'd let me take my bruises as I deserved them. Not coming from a home with any sense of entitlement, I've taken my hits and continue to learn my lessons. Some of that doesn't work out. But you never tell me to give up. You wouldn't do that. Your wisdom is something upon which I rely. 

You'd hold my hand when we cross the street, and then when neither of us wants to let go, until something happens where a free hand is necessary, you might momentarily let go. I'd feel comforted and protected when you do that. You'd hold my jacket. You're a true gentleman. You'd sweetly hold me. You're tender and soft and I feel safe with you.

I'd immortalize you in more art and poetry than I already have. You never have grasped the concept of being one's muse, but you make me want to write beautiful things and make beautiful music, just by being who you are.



I'd try and teach you that it's not the sins of your past or the sins of your present or the sins of your future that define how you get into the heavens. I'd try and teach you that love, in all of its manifestations, precedes and precludes any type of bad thing a human might do, because to be a good person and to give love to someone else is paramount to wallowing in the ills of the past or the foibles of the present. I'd teach you more about your soul and its place than any church could ever teach you, because I know. Don't ask me how I know. I just know. Remember the Ganesha statues? The Elephant god? He's the god of removing obstacles. Perhaps that's why I'm so drawn to him.



I'd respect the relationship you have with your children, as you would mine; understanding that none of the children need a substitute parent. I'd appreciate the non-hovering advice you've given me towards my son which you've pressed me about wisely and kindly and have trusted my judgment as his mother. To me, our age makes no difference. Besides, I'll need you to help me pick out a suitable college for my son in just a couple of years.

Likewise, I'd respect the relationship you have with her. The history is long and complicated, and you did raise 3 children together, but I just don't see you closing out your golden years in such a structured, cloistered, predictable, apathetic existence where you're not given your props for being as wonderful and interesting as you are. Then again, I might be slightly biased, because as if it wasn't already blatantly obvious, I'm in love with you.

I'm sure I've mentioned it blog after blog or at least in person more than once, but meeting and getting to know you was better for me than the 999 piece puzzle I gave you for your birthday. Meeting you and growing close to you was more like the monkey stone I just gave you....weighty, obvious, slightly obtrusive but ultimately calming, soothing and a constant reminder of someone's thought of you. It's smooth, just as our conversations are.

You'll have to forgive this perpetual dreamer, the idealist, the writer who takes bits of reality and turns them into grand fantasies. To me, the time we spend together is paradise. You may think of yourself as ordinary or run of the mill, but in my eyes, you're the bees' knees. More so than any saintly statue or rosary one could carry, no, I don't deify you. You're flawed, and distant, and cantankerous and irritating at times; but ultimately, it's all a part of you and who you are.

When we say "I love you," we mean it. We always have, from the first time you told me that on the phone when you left work one night.

Without putting you on a pedestal, I'll put you on one anyway. I'll also be the first to knock you off it if you think you're getting too big for your britches. I should think you'd do the same for me, as reciprocal as our friendship has been, sided far more on my side than yours, though I understand. I truly do. I can't say I'm 100% happy about it, but I accept it as part of you and your makeup.

I think it was about 3 years ago, we met for a drink after work, Pepsi, and I asked you, "I thrill your soul. What do you plan on doing about that?" Oh, were you flustered. To date, I still haven't gotten a sufficient answer apart from the fact that with every passing encounter, I am more convinced that you mean it when you tell me you love me.

I've never been a big believer in "what's meant to be will be." We are born with conscious choice. We are born with free will. We are born with, conversely, temptation and wily desires that we must weigh against the ultimatum of what's truly our own happiness, our own mess, how messy it might become, to follow what our hearts and minds actually blaze. Courage, braveheart.

Come on, I'd prance (read: stumble) in stilettos for you for at least 5 minutes if you promised to catch me if I started to fall, which, of course, I would.

So many songs remind me of you, and I'd make you more CD's if you'd get your damn player fixed, but for tonight, anyway, and I heard it on Pandora earlier and nearly started to cry, this expresses my sentiment towards you tonight. The lyrics of this song are selfless. George Harrison's "What is Life." While Harrison acknowledges the betterment and treasure of his life with that of his beloved, he resigns a loss or lack of love with support and encouragement. Pandora. It was that or "Instant Karma" by Lennon. Great drum fills, but not exactly appropriate, though "we do all shine on, like the moon and the stars and the sun." Oh, my darling, not to go off topic, (ME?), but "Karma's" got some of the best drum fills in rock music, bar none. Have a listen.

Apart from my Ambien nap, it's nearly 3am, so I think I'll call it a night. Thanks for a terrific 42nd. It was all I wanted and more. I know it took you a lot of work, which I appreciate. We'll keep an eye on the City Winery.

PS--you missed out on church tonight--not only Steve on drums but Meg on keys--they did a spectacular job....me, I did alright, as I usually do.

Time for bed. When you feel under-appreciated or unloved, realize there's someone out there who adores the living daylights out of you.

XO




"...But if it's not love that you need, then I'll try my best to make everything succeed. Tell me, what is my life without your love? Tell me, who am I without you by my side?"

Here, Guy, consider this a favor:


8 comments:

BMF said...

Annie, I'm really sorry if I am and have been hard on you in the present or past about Guy. This is a really beautiful tribute to someone you obviously love in all earnestness. I remember when you met him, distinctly. You told me he was the only one who remembered and called you by the right name. Something about Guy impressed you. You've said way since that you loved him the minute you met him and I don't know if that's true or not, but when you make a connection with someone that brings you happiness, don't just give up.

He's the older suburbany guy who does suburbany things with his bland lady (no disrespect meant, just stating fact) and you're the punk with spiky hair and tattoos all over (love the new one, BTW), but for some reason, you guys click. Who cares why? Or how?

Guy, Annie is rare and unique. I hope you appreciate the outpouring of emotion she put into this blog. She's brave, and she's smart, and she's beautiful. And she loves you.

Happy Mother's Day, Annie. Luke rocks the house down. I hope you have a good evening out and congratulations--you've raised a hell of a boy. Much love, as your friend forever.



Andrea Miklasz said...

Thanks, BMF, for the Mother's Day wish. I had a good day and lots of hugs from my son, which always make me happy. My brother having been in the day before, I cowered under and below "Favorite Child Syndrome," because I know she prefers Steve, and who wouldn't? She almost lost him last year. Overall, we had a nice day...how were those Bloody Marys?

I think Guy understands your position in my life, and doesn't bear a grudge against your criticism. He knows where you fit in my life.

Yes, he was the first doctor at the practice who remembered my name. Something about me caught his eye as he did mine. For that, I'm grateful, even though it's been peppered with heartache.

I don't know if I loved him from day one, but I found him entrancing instantaneously. And why? He's so nondescript. Kismet. That must be it.

Why he likes a (now chubby) punker girl from the wrong side of the tracks is immaterial, I suppose. I was taught to be scared of him the first 2 weeks I worked there, when he was on vacation, as in "You better not fuck his work up, because he's an asshole!" but that wasn't the man I met. I met someone totally different and eternally adorable.

Please don't feel bad about what you've said about him. He's had his douchey moments, for sure. But then he'll surprise me with a night like Friday and we'll have a great time. I count those moments more than the times he's a creep.

I did put a lot of emotion in this blog, and it'd be my writer's/artist's fantasy life with him.

I don't know about the smart part....

I'll let you know later this week.

But I do love him. In a very different way than I love you. You know that.

I did my best with Luke..a lot of that was on my own. I'm proud of the young man he's grown into. He is pretty damn awesome.

Anonymous said...

What is Life is a perfect song for you two. It really is.

Rob Cheney said...

Finally got to read this really nice blog post :)

Andrea Miklasz said...

Thanks, Rob!

I'd have responded sooner but I cut off all access to my blog from my school!

Andrea Miklasz said...

Hey, Guy? From Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights," a quote (but change the genders...)

"If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn't love you as much as I do in a single day."

That's really about it.

Anonymous said...

Am I the only who noticed the late big Beatles roadie Mal Evans trying in vain to keep tempo on the tambourine? Or that Yoko could probably see underneath her eye covering what she was knitting?

That said, I love, love "Instant Karma."

Anonymous said...

Klaus Voorhman!