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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #879
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "This Obsession"
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
888 888 888 888 888 " by Phairgirl
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 10/16/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I am obsessed with music. I have said this many times before.
Some say I'm completely crazy, off my rocker, insane, because I spend
all the money I don't have on music in any way, shape, or form. I devote
much time that could be used toward wonderful things instead to listening to
music. Others who share my kind of passion still often have a hard time
understanding why I can be completely obsessive-compulsive, why I can buy a
CD and never ever listen to it, why I can listen to the same CD fifty times
in a row, or why I would gladly give up all the music in the world as long
as I were left with "Space-Dye Vest," my favorite song of all time, which
was written by Kevin Moore (formerly of Dream Theater) and has been recorded
both solo and with his ex-bandmates (lyrics can be found on my website,
http://phairgirl.tripod.com/songs/space-dye.html). I suppose it's all about
who I am, what I have done, how I feel...
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He was my first love, or so I thought. Everything in my life, I
rested upon his shoulders, somehow thinking that through all my
tribulations, he would get me through it all. Even when he would go off
with his friends when he was supposed to meet me, or would rather spend his
time in mixed company than alone with me, it was alright. He had once told
me that he loved me, or at least that he was falling in love with me. And
that was enough to carry me through.
We were apart for a summer, and I went to visit him when I could, an
hour and a half's ride in a shitty car away. He hadn't changed; he was just
as vibrant, as jumpy, as downright silly as I had left him. He was sexy, in
a way... definitely NOT in a conventional way... but I was definitely drawn
to his manner and charisma. Most people would die for that charisma. I saw
nothing beyond that charisma.
I didn't really know much about him. He was always so very
secretive. He had just moved here from a much larger town quite a while
away, and before that, other places, other states. He never volunteered
anything from his past, anything about himself, anything that might show who
was hiding under that facade. Of course, I saw no facade, I only thought I
saw him. And it didn't even bother me that his ex-girlfriend's pictures
still graced his room, as I knew he cared for her a lot and she had left
him only because he had to move.
One of our mutual good friends suddenly came back into the picture
after an unusually manipulative relationship of hers had ended. She hadn't
been allowed to spend time with us, to talk to us, anything... it was good
to have her back. And at this point, he was also back from his time away
from me, but things were strained. He was even more distant, more unwilling
to connect. I had inquired as to why he shared nothing about himself... his
response was simply to ask if there was anything I wanted to know. I didn't
know where to start, so I left it up to him. I learned nothing.
I spoke to my friends about this distance. I still loved him... I
wanted nothing more than to be with him, to be blinded and disoriented by
him, to be manipulated and controlled by him. He was all I had, he was all
I had ever had, he was everything. I played Liz Phair's "Fuck and Run" a
lot. I knew things needed to be fixed, that things were deteriorating, but
I wasn't going to let it fail. I couldn't let him go.
He almost stopped being around me completely, certainly not without
an entire entourage. He spent much more time talking to my friends,
charismatically flirting with them all, just like always, except this time
he left me out. That damned charisma. I couldn't let him go, even though
he was walking away right in front of me.
He was always so funny... I was always laughing... he was such an
eccentric... he was just plain weird. I loved his complexities, his
oddities, his bizarre obsessions for british sci-fi, Led Zeppelin, Magic:
The Gathering, baseball, and lizards. I could drink him up. He was so
non-Iowa, so non-hick, yet still fit in somewhere in the fabric of
everything around him. And most of all, there was his mind... so rare to
find intelligent people these days, those days, or any days. He resisted
arguing, which was disappointing, but nonetheless his opinions held true.
It was through a bizarre accusation of obsession with another that
finally led to the demise of our relationship. I had this horrid gut
feeling that his trademark flirtations were for real, that he had focused on
that friend of ours that we hadn't seen all summer. I swore I was going
crazy... that there was no way in the world he would ever want to leave me.
After all, he was the one who had told me he loved me. Or at least, had
once told me that he thought he was in love with me. A horrible phone call
two days later only confirmed my suspicions, straight from his mouth. I
fell to pieces.
At first, I pleaded with my friend to let his infatuation go, for her
to be a friend and let us repair our relationship. But after discussing
this at great length with her, I quickly noticed his feeling for her was so
very mutual. It was time to concede and let nature do its thing.
I tried so hard to just let things be. I tried to be a good friend
to them both, to let nature take its course, but I found I couldn't watch
any longer. I told them both I could never speak with them either again...
this would never sit right with me... and that I was simply to scarred to
heal. They were upset, but found some way to understand, together, of
course.
Ohhhhhhh... words can not describe... the spiral... the awful... the
feelings... I fell to pieces... I ceased to survive... I couldn't think... I
couldn't live... I couldn't love anything... I didn't love myself... but
worst of all, the betrayal... the awful, horrible betrayal... my so-called
friends... I had told them all my feelings... I had shared everything inside
of me... they knew everything about me... I cared for them so much... and it
was all taken from me... all gone.. I had no one.
No one.
Nothing.
I became what I was feeling. I curled up into myself. I ceased to
exist in functional society. Everything from then on was simply going
through the motions. I found new friends, but unlike the others, they were
simply left in a map of mystery. I existed, but I shared nothing. I had
fun, but it was all someone else's idea. I was still in love with the idea
of the love that I had. I missed being in love, as fucked up as it might
have been.
I remember coming home one day, months after the entire ordeal had
ended. I remember walking down my alley, listening to a copy of Dream
Theater's "Awake" and not focusing on anything... just existing... just
going home. Suddenly, something on that tape had caught my attention. I
paid intense attention... and I broke down crying. I had found something
that spoke for everything I had experienced in the past year. I had found a
song that was written just for me, just to heal me, just to change me. It
was the last song on the tape, one that I hadn't cared for much in the past,
"Space-Dye Vest." I could hardly walk home, I was shaking... crying... and
healing.
Four years later, I am still shaking.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #629-WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 10/16/99 ]