Obsession
For a time when I started my stand up sets, I used to bark, ARF ARF. I’m not really sure why, maybe I thought there was something disarming about it. Most likely, much like dogs that bark, I was on edge, unsure of my position. I’m not even sure what jokes followed after that, how the transition into observational stand up went; ARF ARF, DATING IS WEIRD. It’s been a long time since I barked, I don’t remember when it ceased, maybe I stopped needing the trick. Was it all bark, no jokes?
I spent a week really getting into graff again recently, I watched a few videos about handstyle to remind myself. I can do a few letters real sick. Over the years I’ll have a spurt of about a week when I'll start tagging again. The first time was year 8, a girl moved to our school who loved the Deftones and could do graffiti, she taught me how to do a few letters. I don’t know what happened to her, she was at our school for only 6 months at most. I wonder what happened to her.
My ex still checks in every once in a while. She’ll message me about something I posted or a song I’ll enjoy. She has a habit of picking songs that really grab a hold of me, it feels like a supernal skill, but it’s just good taste. Not long ago she reached out to compliment me on a newsletter I’d written, it was nice to hear.
6 weeks later, she came to a gig of mine. She messaged beforehand to ask if it was okay, but wrote back “Too late! Got tickets anyway :)” before I had a chance to respond. I wrote back “WOW!” sarcastically then “No worries, was just about to reply”. I paused for a moment, was it okay? It is and it isn’t. I’d been thinking about her recently in the way that I’m always kind of thinking about her; I’m always kind of thinking about everyone I’ve spent a meaningful amount of time with.
The gig didn’t go that well, it’s happens, however It’s one thing to bomb, but another to do fine in front of your ex and her friend. They were kind about the show, it would be okay in the end. She asked me if I wanted to catch up, she was hanging around for another drink. I was exhausted, but I did want to see how she was.
We’d done this a few months earlier. She messaged saying “How’s the show?” “How do you know I’m doing a show?” I replied, someone she knew was in the audience. We messaged back and forth, my gig was almost done, she wrote “I’m about to finish dinner, do you want to get an ice cream?”, “We can do that” I wrote back nonchalant, in reality I was rushing over there.
There is a tension when we start to talk, how long until we state where we are at, is either of us seeing someone; eventually it comes out. Agenda item two: “What went wrong with us? Why didn’t it work out?”. At times I’ve been unsure, but I know the answer, for her and everyone else I’ve been with. So she asks me “What went wrong with us? Why didn’t it work out?”.
My answer has changed a lot over the last couple of years. I used to think it was that I’ve always prioritised freedom, being untethered, but it’s not that, it’s fear. I thought that that’s how I wanted to live my life, untethered. Maybe I’ve set myself up to do that because I’m afraid to be tethered. I’m afraid of what it means. I’ve come to realise tethering yourself to certain people means freedom.
It’s bittersweet when someone says “What happened with us?” and you can confidently say “I didn’t believe in myself enough, I know that now, I only chased people that informed my view that I’m not worthy. I’m okay to be tethered now I think”. I didn’t say it that succinctly then and there. It probably wasn’t that true, then and there, or last week for that matter; I’d like to believe it’s true now.
We finished our drinks, I drove her home. The conversation much lighter than the one under the bar lights. That felt like it for us, maybe a chapter closed.
I’ve been back in the gym, sporadically, but the consistency is forming. It’s freeing the weight against your body. It’s simple, no one can lift the weight for you. I think about the essay by Henry Rollins.
The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you’re a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.