Slanted & Enchanted

A lot of people have said to me over the years that things in life happen for a reason. Things must happen in a certain patterned way for life to revolve as it should. Most of these people are probably rather insane. I know of two who aren't, and the reason why I think they aren't insane is because there is an odd type of logic as we talk about certain things. One of them is my best friend and we had a long telephone conversation today. The other is my boyfriend, Corey.

Recently, I told Corey how everything I was reading or watching contained the name Didi. Watched Don Roos's excellent first film THE OPPOSITE OF SEX and in it Didi is the central terrible harridan of a lead character portrayed by Christina Ricci. As I was reading Don DeLillo's COSMOPOLIS, Erick Parker's art dealer lover is named Didi: an older woman who makes time for her young lover because he is more fascinating to her than attractive. Then, Corey lent me his copy of DRAWING BLOOD by Poppy Z Brite wherein Trevor Black's younger brother's nickname is Didi, but he dies at the beginning of the story so there isn't very much there about him anyway. In brief conversation over this with Corey, as he does when I talk to him about lots of things, he pointed out the very different outlets by very different creators about very different things all seemed to have found their way into my current state and obviously something clicked in me. I said, as I often do, it's just coincidence. Corey said to me that's several very specific coincidences. He may've laughed at that point.

Didi is Cynthia's nickname. Cynthia is a girl I think I know.

Late last winter, I realized that the girl from fall 2006 wasn't even around anymore. In various capacities. I'd lost the closest friend I'd made since moving back to California. Previously, of course as I found out, she stayed away from me for the very retarded reason that her boyfriend was feeling a bit insecure with me in the picture. And last winter, as she started seeing someone else, it got to be a very familiar scene. I'm leaving out the few tough talks she had with me and I with her about our rather strange dynamic. Keep in mind also that I'm leaving out a nearly ten year age difference. I've written before that it simply feels as if I was wrong in choosing this person as my friend. In a very unfair and selfish and irrational way, had I known what would happen, I wouldn't have pursued anything beyond a working relationship with her. So strange that folk that you're not romantically or familially (sic) linked to can hurt you.

Not everything has been bad. In fact, we've had lots of terribly great times. Great talks. Experiences. And even when I've been at my worst, I've managed to get a smile from her and vice versa. Ah, but we that could make things different, would be even?

So, all of these signs as Corey might say, right? I've not spoken to her in months. Over the last year, since a last trip out to Las Vegas, I've maybe seen her five different times? We live fifteen minutes apart. She goes to school five minutes away. It makes me wonder if she, like me, thinks that I'm not a very good friend. I wonder whether or not she thinks I'm not worth the effort as a person. Perhaps she's too much involved with whoever her current boyfriend is to not include me. Here I am going on and on, sort of putting the onus of our fractured relationship on her shoulders, I'm forgetting to burden my share of it. I do that. I wouldn't mind hearing it. But I won't.

In a similar way to how Corey and I were talking about her then, I had a brief conversation about her with Golden the other day. Maturity and age and friendship were themes, and in the middle of it I remembered something Corey said to me a few months back about when folk get married, each individual's friends fall into the background or disappear. I wonder whether it's that, you know, if it's what Corey said in a way. Do some people function this way? I know I do not and will not.

As recently as this week, Corey's had a conversation with an old friend with whom he had a really strong friendship which ended, not unsurprisingly, over a "misunderstanding." As he and I were texting about that late last night, it brought back to the forefront what I'd written weeks ago about my own old friend. Still, didn't finish those thoughts. But here I am writing all this histrionic melodramatic drivel instead, aren't I? This is why: Corey's having a one-man show in about a week and he sent out a Facebook even invite over it and I forwarded it to the people who I know who live in southern California, Cynthia being one of those on that very short list. This afternoon, Corey says she'd accepted the invite to go to his show. They've never met, and she and I have not had a friendly conversation in quite some time. Corey said to me it could be a sign that she wants to reconnect. Golden intimated the same thing. And as before I am skeptical.

But that's all I get.

Anyway, this rant is over. Or is it an observation?

Re-Gifters

We were talking gifts the other day.

I don't keep very many things people give me over the years, whether friends or ex's. Because there is a disassociation with the people who gave them to me. Corey and I were talking, and this is what I said. I don't return anything that was given to me that I don't like because I appreciate the gesture and thought. But once that particular relationship is dissolved, whether through my or the other person's actions/inactions, there is no point in cluttering my life with things.

Don't get me wrong: I keep things that truly matter in context.

But most things do not last that long. People don't last that long.

I'm really not much one for gifts. I mean, I like giving to someone something I think they will like, or I know they want, or both. But as far as I'm concerned, the gesture, not the thing itself, matters a little more.

I was thinking that there wasn't anything from the last, say, ten years that I've kept beyond the 'I like it' part of it. But there are. A few. One being the envelope Golden gave me back in 2003 with the zine she made. Another is from 2004 when Justin mailed me a framed and autographed version of this photo. Another is this bracelet Cynthia gave me. And most recently, it's this list of things Corey gave me for Valentine's Day. I have these things and will continue having them because they matter in the context of my life at these various points in time. And, truly, most everything else I've gotten does not stand up very well to this test.

(Don't misunderstand: I've other things from before, during, and after the ones above. But the sentimental cache if you will isn't there anymore and I keep a CD because I like the music in it, for example.)

Corey called it 'love stories in the trash' in a text. But it's not nearly that, I don't think. Sometimes, I come across something someone's given me and that person and I no longer have any sort of emotional or personal or even practical attachment, so why keep it? Years ago, this girl, Carly, gave me a framed picture of her and me at her birthday party and I got rid of it a few years ago because...there is not reason for me to have it any more. It reminds of all the things kids write in year books during the last week of classes and we write "K-I-T" but no one does it; it's the polite thing to do because we know full-well that we are not going to do it. I know I'm not. I don't have anything anyone's given me who is no longer a meaningful part of my life. With very few exceptions. Funny thing: my best friend tweeted this quote from SEX & THE CITY as I began typing this.

All of this reminds me, of course, of CHOKE by Chuck Palahniuk: "You'd be surprised how easy it is to close the door to your past."

I'm not sure if this means that I'm more utilitarian than I think I am, or just more petty. Probably a little of both (or a lot of both.).

But then it makes me think of whether or not I place a higher value on the thing than the person. I mean, I have a handful of things that mean something to me - a good memory, a sad one - but the person from whom it came, why don't I have the same emotional attachment to it? Obvious answer is, well, I held that person in high regard but they showed me I was wrong and they are worth less than what they say. How vile does that last sentence sound?

While I'm not partial to receiving (I'm going to snicker at the double entendre!) anything, I suppose thinking that the person who got me something to for any effect probably has in their mind that I will always have it. I mean, I do when I give. For the most part I think we all do. I really do. But once that relationship is dissolved, then what? Clutter. It's the literal representation of when we say about each other that we have a lot of baggage with us at all times. Perhaps when I get rid of that book you gave me because it comes with baggage: you.