Realized Benny hadn't seen my hair or anything, so when I went to visit him for the first time this year he did a double-take seeing me! It wasn't just about the hair though-- he likes it, thankfully. "It's like the nose ring. Its audacious. Y'all were crazy like that when we first met." And I couldn't help but beam at that, and he paused for a moment, lit a cigarette, did his usual puff before talking again. "...There's that light in yer eyes again. I was hopin' I'd see it." He was so silly, lighting that cigarette when I wanted to sit on his lap and kiss him all over and ride him... I did tease him about it at the time, but I got to do all that and more soon enough~!
And god, he really is GORGEOUS doing all is camping things (thankfully I also haven't made too much of a fool of myself in helping him). I didn't know he was into all that! "You gotta be careful, though. Weird fuckin' crackers in the woods sometimes. With GUNS." Not that we were too worried where we were-- that was part of being careful. It was a little difficult leaving when I still had a bit of work left to do, but everyone insisted I go (they knew I had a vacation coming up, but not with who). Even my FAMILY wanted me to take a break, and those were the other people I felt guilty about leaving. So I can't feel too badly about it. I don't feel badly about it at ALL when I watch Benny getting a fire set up... and really, when I stop and think for a moment and think about how much and for how long I wanted this kind of time with him. Someday, hopefully soon enough, we'll have so much more of this time. This is a good motivation to work for that when I get back. --Ugh, Benny would hate that I'm even writing about this right now. I should take my mind off it! It's hard to completely. We're close to so much...
And I do want to talk to him about the road this upcoming time. I have a feeling that could be quite a bit of this kind of time together... he'd be busy, still, of course, but it wouldn't be as complicated an operation. We could sleep together after everything every night, even if I have to book an extra hotel room to keep appearances. Whatever. I love sleeping with him. Literally sleeping, I mean. Or at least, holding him while he sleeps. I don't always sleep. But he always does, and I love that he does. I love singing to him, and I love that he falls asleep and I love that he never falls asleep until right near the end of the last thing I sing for him. God, he's been working so much we haven't had time for him to just be a darling with me like this. I can't take it for granted whatsoever.
Relatedly, it's technically far more possible to be physically affectionate with him here, and I don't want to take that for granted either, but at the same time, I can never be completely relaxed about it. He can't either, at least. Sometimes we'll be on a nature walk and we'll just lock pinkies for a second. Beyond that, we're just friends on a camping trip. We're far enough up in the northern boonies that the likelihood of my being recognized is slimmer, too, especially when I have a ballcap on. Easy enough.
There's a nice big pond nearby to swim in-- not too buggy, not too leech-y. Was able to figure that much out, but that's it. Ugh, it'd be nice to swim with him somewhere a little nicer than that. But hey, it's like when I'd go to the creek when I was a kid. And I've never been able to swim with a guy before... not REALLY. It could be romantic even if I get a leech stuck to my ass or something!
Ugh, I'm stupid. I mean, it ended up fine. And we're on the way home, now (Benny's taking a turn driving-- he knows I write; he, like everyone else, has no idea what I write. He likes the language I sort-of invented for it!). And I didn't make us have to leave early. It was when we were going to leave anyway. It was just-- ugh.
Things were good. Having Ben be the cook this time (for fish he caught himself!) was fun and cute. I was managing to only get a couple new mosquito bites a day (and Ben used that as an excuse to give me a hickey that looks like one). And I was doing my swimming. I didn't know my way around the hiking and walking trails, and didn't feel comfortable jogging them, but I NEVER miss a day. It was more uncomfortable than I expected. It was relieving to realize the pond wasn't too gross or scummy or anything: swimming could replace running. And so it did! I learned, very early on into doing so, that Benny himself couldn't swim. He wasn't interested in learning, but was comfortable being with me in the water regardless-- he was more comfortable watching me, in fact, than knowing I was there alone. Sometimes I'd take advantage of the buoyancy to pick him up and swim him around a bit (reminded me of summers in college, swimming near-naked or skinnydipping in a creek; the first time I really felt comfortable kissing other guys around people. Back when everything was all ~free love~). Other times he'd stand knee-deep and smoke a cigarette watching me do laps of the perimeter. On the second to last day, I swam straight outwards after completing my usual routine. Closer and closer to the middle. I thought about what would happen if my legs gave out and I couldn't swim back. Benny couldn't do anything to save me. He couldn't catch me. He might drown himself if he tried. I thought about what my new limit should be. How could I tell when I reached it? There was an odd rush to anticipating that limit, to being able to get right up to certain death before retreating-- Benny's shouting broke through the haze. There was my limit (imagine drowning in a POND... it's a big pond, but still).
I was able to swim back, though my legs were quite tired, and Benny gripping me by the shoulders to say "What the fuck was that, man??" etc was actually a very welcome break from treading water. I told him I was fine, which I basically was, but there was an odd kind of haze I was seeing everything through. I felt a little dizzy. Unreal. Like Benny was trying to shake me out of a dream and not quite succeeding. I could hear his voice trembling the whole time he was talking to me even if I couldn't always hear or comprehend the words he was saying; I could feel his body trembling equally in an attempt to not start crying. I did that to him-- that thought was part of why I couldn't hear what he was saying for awhile. That was drowning everything else out like a sort of tinnitus.
At some point, though, things cleared up enough in my mind that I heard him say "...like you got a fuckin' GHOST inside you or somethin'. You get haunted n' I can't reach you, and-- and-- one of these days I feel like I won't be able to. You'll just be GONE and I can't do shit about it, baby. What the fuck. I don't wanna lose you." I stroked his cheek, told him he'd never lose me. I was so close to being able to "break up" with Shann and that would make things so much easier. I'd have more space in my brain and we'd have more space for each other, things would feel more real. The rest of what was horrible would still exist, and I didn't know what to do about that. I never feel like I'm doing enough. He said I was doing *SO* much, and maybe that is true. I couldn't quite believe it for myself, but I believed it for him, for that moment. I needed to. I was fine. We were fine. It was fine. I just had one pill too many, or got a weird idea in my head, or something. Or like he called it, a momentary haunting, but that's harder to think about. That's not so fine. That leaves a door open for things to come back and be not so fine again. Neither of us can afford that.
The mood was of course a bit too somber and careful to want sex later that night. I sang Harf for him instead while he lay in my arms. I told him, this time, that this particular song was a love song. "It sounds sad. Beautiful, but sad.", He said. I admitted it was a rather grandiose love song, which is why I didn't sing it for very many people. But I wanted him to feel in his heart, as deep into it as I could reach, that he would never lose me. What I didn't tell him, because I knew it would also be a bit dramatic, was that everything good I do, I do for him. There's parts of me that clearly want to do stupid things, to push limits for the sake of it, to stare out over oblivion, but I know I need to fight them for Benny.
He's been quiet on the drive back. I have, too. He has cigarettes to fill that silence with. I don't have much beyond choosing which radio station to listen to. But I have my other hand near the stick shift and he's holding it tight. He loves me. I love him. I'll figure something out.
Even though Ben and I's trip ended with more stress than I ever intended, it was still rejuvenating enough to face what will hopefully be the final big fight with Walter for this cycle (Ben is wary about it-- but I know that's because I already worried him. I need to prove he doesn't have to be worried about me).
I want to release this album under MY name. My REAL name. I'm hoping I won't need to use Lou too much for this, but I always hope that, and it rarely ends up working out that way. I still feel so awfully for making Lou have to do so much for me, but he never seems to mind (I mean, I suppose I AM paying him...). If worse comes to worse, the damn thing can be called "Jules Riley - Julie Rajani" or the other way around. Whatever. I remember, quite some time ago now, calling Pammie on the phone and talking with her about how frustrated I was about having to use a stage name. She said it'd probably help if I got famous enough, and it has helped, but... ugh. I felt so lost last year and I clearly still do, a bit. I want something to hold onto that I know is mine, I guess.
This is sort of a good problem to have, though. It means I've sorted everything else out, which I have. Things are getting closer and closer to release, and I'm excited and a little terrified all at once. I hope Walter doesn't mess with things too much-- he already cut my planned 30-date tour in half. "I thought you'd like that! You would've last year, wouldn't you? --Impossible to please, like always." Yeah, yeah. That's why you did that without asking me first. You just know best like that. Ugh. Oh well. Maybe I won't need the shows (I know he wouldn't allow me to do any official charity shows or anything like that, either. Too "Mother Teresa"). There's plenty else to do to promote things, and Walt's been more or less cooperative with that, at least.
In the meantime, another skill to try and shake the rust off of: sewing. I'm under no illusions I'll be able to create a dress of my own in time for the (unofficial) release party, but I still want to know what I'm doing so I can make whatever alterations I need to whatever dress I end up either commissioning or buying. So much to do...