1. Let’s Go Crazy — Prince
2. Don’t Hurt Yourself (feat Jack White) — Beyoncé
3. Tearing Me Up — Bob Moses
4. Toes — Glass Animals
5. Genghis Khan — Miike Snow
6. Sparrow Hand — Strangers You Know
7. Hold Back the River — James Bay
8. Lemon Eyes — Meg Myers
9. I Just Might — Ryan Adams
10. Change My Mind — Stone Cold Fox
11. A Song for Our Grandfathers — Future Islands
12. Downtown — Majical Cloudz
13. The Night We Met — Lord Huron
14. Nothing Compares 2 U — Sinead O’Connor
15. Purple Rain — Prince
Immortals aren’t supposed to die. That’s why it feels this way, painful and confusing, something close to hopelessness, as if the universe itself is cheating.
Lost in the Light
My ongoing romantic complication continues to be complicated.
This thing of ours has gone on long enough for me to recognize the larger patterns of its push and pull. It’s lunar, almost tidal. There’s an elliptical orbit to it, and we’ve completed another revolution around one another.
I’m back in the heartache phase, but only briefly. It’s not nearly as bad this time. There’s not as much gravity. It’s as if we’re hurtling further away from each other on each go-around, which is a good thing, because I’m finally fucking ready to move on.
We got close there for a minute. It felt really good, but it also never felt right. I mean, shit. There was a reason this thing was never supposed to happen from the beginning, so I don’t know what I was expecting.
We weren’t meant to be together. Almost, but not quite. So yeah, I’ll have this one night of frustrated insomnia where I write a cryptic post and lament the fact that we had another near miss, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and realize that it was actually a disaster averted.
Our relationship will still be ongoing and complicated. Neither of us have a choice about that, but I do have a choice to no longer be emotionally available. Quite simply, it’s time for me to focus my romantic efforts and energy elsewhere.
I’ve done this before, so I know how it works. This next phase will be good for me, because there’s about to be a shift in our power dynamics. I’ll be the one in control again, no longer vulnerable.
Of course, that brings on a whole new set of complications, but I can handle those.
I’m tired of living in a world with kings and queens and peasants who kill for their imaginary gods.
1. Like It or Not — Bob Moses
2. Vermillion — Damian Lazarus & The Ancient Moons
3. Emmanuel (Stwo Remix) — BASECAMP
4. Lost In the Light — Bahamas
5. We Don’t Eat — James Vincent McMorrow
6. Rise Up — Andra Day
7. Back of the Car — Miike Snow
8. Fool — Boo Seeka
9. Already Free — The Derek Trucks Band
10. Changes — Langhorne Slim & The Law
11. Twigs And Stones — Siskiyou
12. Turn It Around — Lucius
13. Pretty Pimpin — Kurt Vile
14. Ragamuffin — Silversun Pickups
15. Sun Don’t Shine (Extended Mix) — Klangkarussell
I can’t stop staring at this thing.
Emmanuel (Stwo Remix)
I woke up this morning naked in bed next to my former crush.
As with everything about our situation, last night was totally unexpected. Still, there was purpose behind it. Nothing about our evening was a mistake. There seems to be this bizarre inevitability that we both finally acknowledged, and yet at the same time, last night changed absolutely nothing.
One thing’s for sure, this continues to defy any label I try and ascribe to it. We’ve gone from brand new, totally inappropriate, never-gonna-happen crush to almost-happened crush to former crush to whatever the hell this is now.
I’m not crushing anymore, which is good, but at the same time, I’m certainly not without feelings. I dunno. This is mellowing into something altogether new to me, and I’m kind of amazed at how cool I am with not knowing what will happen next.
I’m thinking for now I’ll just have to call this my “ongoing romantic complication.”
It’s not the snappiest label, but hey, at least it should last me for a while.
When I lived in Los Angeles, I had a medical marijuana card. I carried it around with me at all times. I didn’t even smoke weed all that much. It’s just something I kept as insurance, a sort of “get out of jail free” card that was nice to have that I knew I would never really need. It also served the dual purpose of being a smirking reminder of American hypocrisy. (Honestly, that was the real reason I bothered keeping it.)
When I moved to a different state, my medical marijuana card became as useless as an unused drink ticket. It lost all its validity. In fact, it became a liability, something more likely to get me into trouble than out of it. The card was still a reminder of American hypocrisy, but it had gone from smirking to bitter.
When I removed it from my wallet, I knew I had to replace it with something else, something equally ridiculous, something that made a similar statement about how fucked up this country of ours really is.
Well, it finally came in the mail yesterday. After jumping through all the hoops and paying all the fees (just like I did to legally smoke weed in California), now in the place that I used to keep my medical marijuana card, I proudly display my very own concealed carry permit.
Yes, It’s official. Instead of an eighth of weed (something that would get me jail time in this state), I can now legally walk around with a handgun in my Balenciaga (something that would have most certainly gotten me jail time in California.)
I don’t necessarily plan on carrying a gun around. Then again, I didn’t walk around holding weed all that much either. Taking advantage of the privileges afforded me was never really the point for either card. It’s the privilege itself that I find so amusing. I have two little pieces of plastic from two different states, each one giving me permission to do something that would be felonious in the other. How fucking insane is that?
I almost want to frame them next to one another, or better yet, glue them back-to-back to form one double-sided piece of magnificently ironic identification, my own little piece of private performance art.
Not yet, though. I paid good money for these privileges, so there’s no point in defacing my state-issued permission slips until they expire. After all, I do own a gun. Who knows? Maybe one of these days I’ll feel like walking around strapped just for shits and giggles. And hey, I’m sure I’ll be visiting LA again sometime soon. Maybe I’ll feel like stopping by my favorite dispensary on La Brea. Either way, I’d better have my card on me. Otherwise, someone might think my behavior was criminal.