Print Story She could be another clone.
Diary
By technician (Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 11:32:40 AM EST) (all tags)
The thing with the vinyl album is, those grooves are ever changing according to time, dust, temperature, and all those many variations between needle and tonearm and platter and the world turning affects the sound. Man. Seriously.


I'd fallen in love with this blonde blue-eyed all-American girl, at that age she was awkward and pigeon-toed and her glasses filled half her face, but there was this dry clarity behind her eyes, and her joys and sorrows were genuine. She and I were both still adolescent, mid-teen years hitting us both very differently. She was a girl, very much so: stuffed animals and a fondness for dusty pink colored anything. I was myself as a teenager: on fire, desperate and scheming, sneaking Marlboro lights and yearning for Freedom. We dated for two months before we even kissed. We stayed together for  five years. Those early relationships, if you had one that clicked at all, they form grooves. If you're me, and you gave your entire life up, the grooves are pretty fucking deep.

I can trace my path across the southern part of New Mexico in song, tracing one long groove from the deserts of the Jornada to that final frantic exit at the Arizona state line. I can find a song from the bag of cassettes I carried or from the small stack of records I owned, and I can immediately place a pin on a map and trace the line, where we met, the moon over the desert, the two mile walk through scrub nothing to her house, the later drives deep into escape velocity. The good and bad, all of it loudly spelled out in a spectrum of music ranging from typical to atypical, cheesy to death defying. Bizarre placements of sound and vision: I have this one Enya song lodged in with a memory of walking across a full-moon desert, on my way to her, this gigantic crystal bowl of a black sky with that lightbulb moon, I had my headphones in and this mixtape, and damn hell Enya. It doesn't come up on play lists any more, so when it shows up in a soundtrack or random media, I get stopped dead with a flood of bright black sky, littered with silver, on my way to that love. Embarrassing to say the least.

And later, the sheer death defying pain at times. Typical songs from that time and age. Pick something off of Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me by the Cure. The Kiss, for instance. Stupid high speed drives with two fingers on the wheel, head outside the driver's window, eyes closed, drunk and quietly raging, tiny motor wailing, letting the weight crush then pass. For every track on The Final Cut I have an associated wall punching rage. Oh and sex. We'd have Rhythm of the Saints on in the background, not on purpose, but it did happen a lot, and it would go back to that first track with the drum line, always causing us to laugh there in the middle of it. And hearing that outside her door on a surprise visit, her with another guy, me left shattered. I've written all of that down, haven't I?

All over the place, this sound track. When I finally left, Gordon (my co-driver) and I listened to stupid crap the whole way to California, like we were trying hard to avoid any pins on the map, avoiding the correlation. Zappa, though, still gets me, and when I hear Muffin Man I do have a selection of scenes from the hundreds of miles we repeated that song. We get to California, and I spend time alone with my car and my music, speeding up and down hiway 1, waiting for it to stop or kill me. When I finally did let go, it was notable for this:

Standing next to the car, overlooking the ocean. Bright yellow moon, clear but for wisps of fog, and no sound but silence. No song, no manufactured emotion, no echoes. Her being a distant memory, my own life finally coming into focus as a thing on its own, without parents, without a path. Nothing but ocean below, a quiet constant crashing.

Then, well, I understood what I'd been running from. I understood what I had actually missed, eyes open and staring past the girl who would become my wife. That soundtrack starts with longing, and continues even now with a complex syncopated weaving, but that's a soundtrack I've played for you many, many times.

These maps, they're too loud.

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She could be another clone. | 13 comments (13 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
Ouch by riceowlguy (4.00 / 1) #1 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 11:43:13 AM EST
And hearing that outside her door on a surprise visit, her with another guy, me left shattered.

Dear lord, you just broke my heart.  Fuck.


That was pretty bad by technician (2.00 / 0) #2 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 12:07:02 PM EST
and I actually left there and lost my mind.

[ Parent ]
the vinyl album by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #3 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 12:14:11 PM EST
Tossed my last turntable a couple weeks ago. I have no more records to play on it.

I kept the headshell and needle.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

Tossed? by nightflameblue (4.00 / 1) #7 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 02:17:36 PM EST
You realize there's a huge resurgence on right now for vinyl and turntables to play them? You were sitting on a gold mine. Especially if it had any age on it. Nevermind the quality, this is all about the older = better crowd. Bands have even been re-releasing all their albums that came out after the big black saucers faded away on vinyl the past year or two to cater to the cool kids.

[ Parent ]
Without the headshell by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #9 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 02:57:17 PM EST
it's not worth much.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

[ Parent ]
DAMN by nightflameblue (4.00 / 1) #4 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 12:19:41 PM EST
We need more of this type of stuff around here. Pity so many of us have stopped bothering.

Condolences on the mental rape of dating a cheater. I've been lucky enough to never have that problem. Or at least lucky enough to have never found out. Though I had my suspicions on one. . . .



I write when I'm drugged. by technician (2.00 / 0) #5 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 12:35:50 PM EST
These painkillers are awesome.

Her cheating on me wasn't really a surprise. I'd pushed her away for months at that point, and she just did what I'd been implying.

Looking at it all now, it's not exactly funny but the drama, oh the drama. Silly.

She'll be at the 20 year HS reunion. I need to somehow keep Laurea from killing her...but that's a different story.

[ Parent ]
The 20 year HS reunion. by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #6 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 01:41:24 PM EST
I want to read your take on that. My 20 year was fun. Not as weird as the 10. The old cliques seemed to have gone away, or maybe only one clique showed up. We didn't do a 25. 30 is in 5 years.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

[ Parent ]
The ten year by technician (4.00 / 1) #8 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 02:27:05 PM EST
reunion is a bit silly...not enough time has passed for proper perspective. They had a ten year for our class, and about fifteen people showed.

Now that facebook is so pervasive...well, I thought facebook had done away with reunions. It does look as though more people will show, though, and it's a wide spectrum of folks. I'm curious to see who shows, and which old faculty (most of whom are still teaching) will show. We were an exceptionally strange class...the only one stranger than ours that anyone could think of at the time was the class of 85.

[ Parent ]
without facebook by garlic (4.00 / 1) #10 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 03:21:34 PM EST
I hadn't talk to anyone in my highschool class for years. with facebook, I might be up for driving to the reunion to hang out.


[ Parent ]
By 10 years by ad hoc (4.00 / 1) #11 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 03:59:38 PM EST
about half should be bald.
--
[ Parent ]
Some looked exactly the same by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #13 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 10:46:31 PM EST
Some looked 20 years older. You could tell which girls had been sun worshippers going for the perfect tan.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

[ Parent ]
This is what happens when you trust blondes. by ammoniacal (4.00 / 2) #12 Wed Apr 14, 2010 at 04:55:49 PM EST
They're inherently untrustworthy.

"To this day that was the most bullshit caesar salad I have every experienced..." - triggerfinger

She could be another clone. | 13 comments (13 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback