breaking us in two

Submitted by la miller on 4 October, 2007 - 00:13

In the soggy October night, I set out to fix a flat on my bike. Waiting for the glue to cure, I put on a [w:Midnight Oil] LP and poured a glass of red wine. Before I'd had my first sip, I noticed the subtle smell of old boyfriend nostalgia. The David Bowie I was singing earlier in the day should've been an early tip off to what was to come. Then, there was an email from the last guy that I read after work. ("... The trees are turning here and today is one of those drop dead georgeous fall days where the sky is deep blue and the air is warmish, but crisp.") It was the wrench and patch kit, however, that really brought it on. The wine and LP just allowed the nostalgia to fully bloom. I should say it's not any one old love in particular that's got a hold of me tonight.

Sure the bike mechanic still visits me in my dreams. I assume he's never returning that piece of my heart. Or maybe I just can't take it back, but that's been the truth for years. And I can't even tell you where Australian 80s rock fits into the picture. (I saw the Diesel and Dust tour 19 years ago in November in Portland. Maybe that's why.) The wine and autumn make me think of last year's affair. In the final analysis, it was more disappointing for what I learned about myself and friends then for its end. The fall NW rain takes me back to '93 and an unrequited love that I remember running into at Powell's on Hawthorne one night. I remember admiring how he wore his sweater -- he looked exceptionally cozy. I want cozy tonight.

I think I'd like to ask an oracle when and where I'll find love again. But then, I think, maybe I won't like the answer I get. ... I wonder if as you get older crushes become fewer and further between. Right now I've got a rather anemic crush, months old, going nowhere, but still hanging on. Why? My best answer is that I've found nothing to replace it. I know it's hard to meet folks in new places. And I'm really liking Midnight Oil and red wine tonight. But I can't get stuck here. Can I make sure that won't happen? Will someone kick my ass if I'm still in my apartment in three months with the 80s LPs blasting? Please.

My innertube is patched. But I feel no rush to put it all back together. The tires on the second bike are inflated now, too. So, there's no excuse for not riding to work. This morning I tried to wait out a downpour, but due to time had to give in. In full rainsuit, I grabbed my bike to go, but lo and behold, my rear tire was pancake flat. And both tires on my road bike were also flat. (That was due to laziness.) It was too late to do anything except drive. Lame. ... See, yesterday, I had some kind of massive brain fart and left for work one hour late without noticing. Yeah, somehow 8 a.m. turned to 9 a.m. Literally, I lost an hour. (And I hadn't had a drink in days.) So, pumping up the second bike's tires was out of the question because that would've made me noticeably late, and that would've been two days in a row. And since I seem to be out to prove something to myself and the world about my ability to be on time, I just couldn't do it.

So what follows Midnight Oil? I put on [w:Joe Jackson (musician)|Joe Jackson], although I initially thought about [w: The Replacements]. My mood seems to be lifting a bit. Could be the writing.

I've got to get out more. Or maybe it's time to start my DJ night club for aging geeky hipsters. I could listen to LPs all day. A friend -- older than me -- asked that I make him a CD with music on it that's new. I tried to tell him that I wasn't sure I'd be able to help him out. I'm way to into the old stuff than the new, and I'm pretty sure he's already quite familiar with side two of [w:Stevie Wonder]'s Talking Book.

The Joe Jackson is doing me right. And I think I'll leave it at that.