We finally got ourselves hotel rooms for the next couple gigs! No singles, tho. I got paired with Nate, and I was unsure about how I felt about that at first: not sure if he'd keep me up all night with party shit I was too tired for (imagine! And yet!!). He'd brought one of his guitars in with him and noodled away on it for awhile before saying "You WRITE songs too, right? Ain't just a singer?" I said I try to write, at least, and he rolled his eyes, invited me over with a hand. Turns out I shouldn't have worried: we whipped something up in half an hour tops! It was simple, balladic, the lyrics are a rough first draft, but I learned that despite Nate's party animal exterior that he can be as serious about behind-the-scenes work as he is about on-the-stage work. And being able to hear him come up with guitar parts and everything in real time... wow. SO amazing, and his playing is beautiful in a different kind of way in that context; subdued, careful, but still so emotional. Like he doesn’t have to put up any kind of front about anything anymore-- there was a vulnerability to it that almost surprised me, made me want to be careful, cautiously gentle. At the end of things, he smiled and patted my arm (I still don't like people touching me when I'm not expecting it, but it wasn't so bad this time). "Gotta admit, dude, I didn't know what the hell Walt was thinkin' with you. But hearing you in the flesh is different from listening to a tape. AND you can write... You should come around n' hang with the rest of us more often, huh? Walt says we need extra vocal coaching anyways!"
We shared a joint to get to bed, passed it back and forth across nightstands. Is it really gonna be this easy to get in everybody's good graces? I doubt it. --I say that, but then, in that moment, I couldn't help the glowing feeling in my chest, the hope, the possibility. Maybe I have gotten too used to assuming the worst. It's difficult to do otherwise, admittedly, when so much of the worst has happened already. I've felt this hope before and had it crushed violently out of me. I've lost people, run from others. There's so much I miss, even when there's so much that's new I can look forward to. How to balance it all? Who knows. One of the good things about how busy my days and nights have been is that I don't need to worry about it as much as I'm doing right now.
I haven't gotten to see much of the places we tour to, but this is still the most of the country I've traveled to before! Even if the places I see are snippets of cities, rest-stops on the side of highways or the middle of nowhere, mid-sized theaters, and the occasional fairground, I think I'm still gonna use up the roll of film I brought along... Rory enjoys photography as a hobby, so I've actually gotten to know him a little better thru that and he's shown me some pointers when we have the time. He sometimes still finds the time to crack a joke about it all, but it's also the time where he's least likely to feel the need to. When I know him well enough, I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to try so hard with all the jokes. Then again, I guess everybody has something they’re more cautious about, or faces they put on. It can be a ruthless place-- I know that much already.
Saw a bit of one of my old lives close to the theater the band was performing in tonight. More specifically, a guy leaning against a light near the theater's alley, neat wavy dark hair n’ mustache, leather jacket, chest hair poking out of tight tee shirt tucked into equally tight Levi's, keyring on left beltloop, thumb thru right beltloop, hand casually cupping bulge, giving me a look a part of me realized in the moment I'd very much missed, flooded my body with a warmth I’d equally missed. But I didn't have the time, it wasn't the place, and it all still makes everything to do with Rick and Cryssie and La Rosa flash all at once in my mind. Guilt, shame, grief. Even the good of it felt dangerously close to overwhelming. Crossed my arms and moved on.
Feeling sexually and emotionally unmoored. Really I work so much every day that it doesn't really make much of a difference anyway. I'm still thankful for that. If I could never want sex or love again I'd be golden. Just be as celibate as a monk. As it is, I still can't help but enjoy certain things... like the smell of the bus after a day's work. I've heard plenty of complaints about the stink, and I've half-heartedly agreed with them, but I can't help but find it erotic. I always have! Anyway! I should really shut up now.
Haven't been able to hang with Greg, specifically, much, despite saying how much I wanted to earlier. Then again, I've realized that maybe I've been avoiding it. It's easier in some ways-- he's a good looking guy (I LOVE his hair-- those loose dark curls falling down to his shoulders like some painting of an angel-- ugh jules stop it), and I hate that I notice, and I hate and dread the idea of him noticing that I notice. Ended up next to him at a bar during an afterparty tonite, tho, and we talked a bit. Mostly just adding into group conversations, but also a few short talks about past music we've made, etc. At the end, he said "Don't be a stranger, alright? We're gonna be working together, man!" So either my apprehensions about the guys' feelings around me have been completely wrongheaded, or my little trial run has gone very, very well.
Beyond that-- it's been such a thrill watching other bands perform from such a close distance. There's something so electrifying about it; the loudness of volume and costume and attitude filling the senses. Being around the crew has had its own kinds of thrills as well: the roughness of both the men and the few women, the cigarettes n' beer n' sweat, little ol' me in the center of it all, surrounded by it, increasingly accepted by it. I'm still teased for my smallness, my thinness, my assumed prissiness, but the teasing doesn't mortify me as much as it brings me back to distant, more strangely pleasant memories and fantasies. In other words it's all a bit of a turn-on, but not an immediate, urgent kind. Not so much a charge as it is a consistent, pleasant hum. It's easier for me and my current sexual moratorium anyway. Basking in the glow instead of actively burning myself. I'm wordy today because I was doing some lyrical writing before the party, and because I smoked a joint clearly full of very good pot! Another joy of travel.
PS: It's funny that I was so interested in joining these cats 'cause of Nate and his playing-- I still adore it, it's still so amazing to sing with even in practice capacities, but he's just such a... BOY. Still! In so many ways. I'd be disappointed if his guitar didn't make up for so much...