There she goes, there she goes again
streams on my computer 'radio' station. Catchy and apropos title. The song before called to mind a long time ago friend cum boyfriend (only we never actually labeled our relationship as dating, nonetheless I had a crush, we engaged in more than friends behavior, regardless of the label we were dating-like at least.)
The Jewel song somehow always reminded me of David. From the first time I heard it, while the song plays I saw and still see David vividly in my minds eye.
David was an intellectual friend when he and I were both surrounded with... non-intellectuals. We liked to talk philosophy, art, politics, literature, culture, history; whereas everyone around us talked hunting, women, and sitcoms.
Dave introduced my to independent radio stations, art galleries, and the delights of fresh Italian bread and good olive oil. He was also a brooding artist, fairly self-centric and inconsiderate. He was clearly the center of his world, and the world of those around him. Not that he demanded constant attention. No, just that he was self-absorbed and everyone and everything else fell to the wayside. Or that is how I often felt, like a piece of furniture - in the room but of no real consequence.
I am painting him in an unflattering light. He was bright - he radiated. He was intense and intelligent. He laughed and joked. He could build and make things with tools. He was sensitive of spirit. He was hard working, incredibly so. He was a painter and a sculptor. He was a dynamic individual who I am glad to have known so well.
I always thought in the years we worked together, befriended each other, that we would remain friends. Just another of my misconceptions and self-delusions. I don't even know what he felt / thought about me. I mean, we worked together day in and day out, and talked of many personal aspirations and dreams. We shared pursuits and passtimes. We knew each other a few years before our friendship developed into more. Not until after I started dating, had a 2 year relationship, then broke up with someone else did Dave and I enter into a new dimension of relationship.
I suppose I worshipped him from afar a bit. Maybe he knew how much I admired him. How I was attracted to him. I secretly watched him at work.
The first day I met him I was smitten, the first moment. He had a profound impact on me. I was sweeping up a fallen plant in the greenhouse. He came walking up - in jeans and a clean t-shirt and asked if he could borrow the broom. I had never seen him before, I thought he was a customer. I stopped sweeping and looked at him and "POW" (like in a batman comic) I was struck with a jolt.
"Uh, oh, sure, I guess," was my erudite response. I started to follow him across the greenhouse because I wondered why a customer wanted to borrow a broom, and whether I ought not clean up whatever he was going to clean-up. I was called do attend to something else. As I helped another customer I saw this mysterious man use the broom, pick up the pile and return to broom to the potting shed near where I had been working when he borrowed. He was so calm and confident.
A little later someone indicated him and said, "That's Dave."
"That's Dave?" I replied. I had heard much about this 'Dave' fellow who was a workhorse and knew his stuff.
Doesn't sound like much of a meet cute, but that's the thing, Dave radiates a quiet intense beauty. I fell into that dark glamour. I would reside in it for years, before and after I 'dated' him. Though every time I write 'dated' my mind counter we never dated, it was not a relationship... like some internal component needs to remind me that there never was a 'we' when it came to Dave and I.
Even now I can call that young man, the Dave I met in 1994, to my mind as if I am there in the greenhouse, or looking at him as he puts up the horses in the parking lot. His walk, his stride, the way he holds the weight in his arms.
All this reminiscence conjured up by a 3 minute song. I have pleasant memories of who I was, of time spent with Dave, of how my world opened wider by knowing him. And now, I have not spoken to him in 4 years, and that time was an awkward indifferent greeting and small talk. Before that it had been 8 years? 7 years? who knows. I knew him well for a decade, then whoosh - nothing.
Life is like that, though. Friendships, not quite capital R relationships are like that. Dave, Scott, Marsha, Pat, Justin.... I could go on - though Dave and Scott were different in that I was friend with them over a long period before the 'whoosh' gone not talk anymore. The others were fleeting friendships, or loose friendships, or.... ok - so each one is different.
Funny how we create these stories, how we imagine these bonds, but the bonds don't exist, or the other views the situation completely differently than we do, or we fool ourselves, even when we know we are fooling ourselves. We cling to our fiction hoping it is truth after all.
I was good at that. I would see what I wanted and ignore any indication that contradicted with my version. Or told myself that I accepted the parameters when really I was ignoring them.
The Jewel song somehow always reminded me of David. From the first time I heard it, while the song plays I saw and still see David vividly in my minds eye.
David was an intellectual friend when he and I were both surrounded with... non-intellectuals. We liked to talk philosophy, art, politics, literature, culture, history; whereas everyone around us talked hunting, women, and sitcoms.
Dave introduced my to independent radio stations, art galleries, and the delights of fresh Italian bread and good olive oil. He was also a brooding artist, fairly self-centric and inconsiderate. He was clearly the center of his world, and the world of those around him. Not that he demanded constant attention. No, just that he was self-absorbed and everyone and everything else fell to the wayside. Or that is how I often felt, like a piece of furniture - in the room but of no real consequence.
I am painting him in an unflattering light. He was bright - he radiated. He was intense and intelligent. He laughed and joked. He could build and make things with tools. He was sensitive of spirit. He was hard working, incredibly so. He was a painter and a sculptor. He was a dynamic individual who I am glad to have known so well.
I always thought in the years we worked together, befriended each other, that we would remain friends. Just another of my misconceptions and self-delusions. I don't even know what he felt / thought about me. I mean, we worked together day in and day out, and talked of many personal aspirations and dreams. We shared pursuits and passtimes. We knew each other a few years before our friendship developed into more. Not until after I started dating, had a 2 year relationship, then broke up with someone else did Dave and I enter into a new dimension of relationship.
I suppose I worshipped him from afar a bit. Maybe he knew how much I admired him. How I was attracted to him. I secretly watched him at work.
The first day I met him I was smitten, the first moment. He had a profound impact on me. I was sweeping up a fallen plant in the greenhouse. He came walking up - in jeans and a clean t-shirt and asked if he could borrow the broom. I had never seen him before, I thought he was a customer. I stopped sweeping and looked at him and "POW" (like in a batman comic) I was struck with a jolt.
"Uh, oh, sure, I guess," was my erudite response. I started to follow him across the greenhouse because I wondered why a customer wanted to borrow a broom, and whether I ought not clean up whatever he was going to clean-up. I was called do attend to something else. As I helped another customer I saw this mysterious man use the broom, pick up the pile and return to broom to the potting shed near where I had been working when he borrowed. He was so calm and confident.
A little later someone indicated him and said, "That's Dave."
"That's Dave?" I replied. I had heard much about this 'Dave' fellow who was a workhorse and knew his stuff.
Doesn't sound like much of a meet cute, but that's the thing, Dave radiates a quiet intense beauty. I fell into that dark glamour. I would reside in it for years, before and after I 'dated' him. Though every time I write 'dated' my mind counter we never dated, it was not a relationship... like some internal component needs to remind me that there never was a 'we' when it came to Dave and I.
Even now I can call that young man, the Dave I met in 1994, to my mind as if I am there in the greenhouse, or looking at him as he puts up the horses in the parking lot. His walk, his stride, the way he holds the weight in his arms.
All this reminiscence conjured up by a 3 minute song. I have pleasant memories of who I was, of time spent with Dave, of how my world opened wider by knowing him. And now, I have not spoken to him in 4 years, and that time was an awkward indifferent greeting and small talk. Before that it had been 8 years? 7 years? who knows. I knew him well for a decade, then whoosh - nothing.
Life is like that, though. Friendships, not quite capital R relationships are like that. Dave, Scott, Marsha, Pat, Justin.... I could go on - though Dave and Scott were different in that I was friend with them over a long period before the 'whoosh' gone not talk anymore. The others were fleeting friendships, or loose friendships, or.... ok - so each one is different.
Funny how we create these stories, how we imagine these bonds, but the bonds don't exist, or the other views the situation completely differently than we do, or we fool ourselves, even when we know we are fooling ourselves. We cling to our fiction hoping it is truth after all.
I was good at that. I would see what I wanted and ignore any indication that contradicted with my version. Or told myself that I accepted the parameters when really I was ignoring them.
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