no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,
no.
roses_rejoice

  • Music:

Summer breeze...

every time i hear that song it reminds me of the life we didn't have. That we wouldn't have had, even if we'd had A Life, together, because the world and Our lives moved on from that song so things would have been different. That song is the 70's life I knew when I was a kid, 13, 14, 15 and dreaming of having a boyfriend. women all skinny as hell (the way i could never be, i was a curved meat-eating reagan era girl) with farrah or sat nite fever hair, wearing shorts and tie halter tops, or layered sweaters that i could never carry off because not thin enough, or long granny dresses and frye boots. those i could wear, and i still do, even though the priest at church called frye boots materialistic. i guess for those days and everybody half out of a job, they were a lot of money. meatheaded men in those horrible polyestrous shirts, with 'staches. those weren't the cool men though. the cool men would have had the long hair and bellbottoms and a guitar in their hand of course.

we would have had an apt over a garage, or in a duplex, in the town where i grew up. bean bag chairs and macrame owls and plant hangers and string art wall hangings that i would make. probably while i was staying home, waiting for you to get home from work. (yeh this is a dream all right, you quit working two weeks after we met and it seems like i never did anything else but.) maybe if we saved up or found one at the thrift store, a glass topped coffee table. (i din't know then that people used those to cut their drugs, i didn't do drugs. i just thought glass tables looked nice, sort of rich.) clay knicknacks from the shops on detroit (all closed down now). mirrors on the walls...maybe a sectional. i want to say earth tones, but the truth is that as much as i kinda like earth tones now, i hated them then, so...maybe raspberry. maybe i'd get creative and paint the walls all wild like in the better homes and gardens books. a small nod to the 60s that we missed. you'd drive an old car, well that fits anyway, and money would prolly be tight cuz all i ever knew was money being tight. so it would be normal. in the evenings we'd watch tv (6 whole channels of it cuz no cable and we didn't even get UHF till i was 12) and play music with all the windows open and be happy in love. the only thing missing is that if it was the 70's we'd at least have to be smoking pot and drinking cheap wine, but i leave that part of the picture out cuz i have hated pot from the first time i ever smelled it and i don't like cheap wine...prolly just get some budweiser for you or something, i don't even know if you could get heineken in our neck of the woods then.

of course none of this ever happened. for starters we didn't even meet till 1982 when the 70s vibe was ded or about to die. and the closest we ever got to having our own place was when your uncle gave you the keys to a house downtown somewhere (i don't even know where the hell it was) and we went there to spend the night, and i had a panic attack because it was too quiet. i probably hadn't eaten that day except for two candy bars. i probably had homework due that wasn't done because i didn't understand it. and in those days i couldn't live without the tv, the same way now i can't really go without the 'net. (it's funny because it was tv tv tv with me for about 15 years and now with the 'net i rarely even turn tv on. maybe once a week.) i needed my electronic connection to the world and i needed some noise. at school there were roommates and the cars speeding up murray hill, at your mom's house there was your mom and george and victor and the highway practically in the backyard, and at my mom's it was too quiet but my mom would put the noisy guinea pig in my room, and an aquarium with a pump, and i had my little tv, so all together they'd make enough noise. here there was nothing but you and me and dead quiet and i couldn't handle it. i remember you were kinda disappointed in me because you thought it would be fun to stay at that house, like having our own place. like practicing for being together for life. i feel bad cuz i let you down. it just wasn't how i pictured it and my head was bad that night.

later we did live together at my place for a few weeks at a time here and there, but that was hardly the same thing. that was about as far away from my dream as it could possibly get without a prescription. i think i did have my string art on the walls and one bean bag chair from sears. that's about it. it was almost the 90's. and then even later when you got that big scar on your stomach and it scared you almost enough to clean up but not quite, you lived over by hessler and i visited and that was the closest we ever got to the dream. one afternoon's worth. i didn't go back there for years...and when i did, the building was torn down, and while it hurt that's probably better than having to pass it all the time and be reminded anymore with you gone and things having not Worked Out. i was numb by then anyway, being old enough to realize that in life, you're gonna lose most of the Buildings and people that you love, that's just how it is, nothing gold can stay. much.

and now i come out of work in the middle of the night looking like an old lady, like some young version of golda meir, cuz i'm done up that way on porpoise so as not to have to bother with being attractive, plus i'm tired. the streets are full of drunken stupid rich kids with rich kid clothes and dreams on i never understood and don't want to. nobody would think i feel anything at all but i do. i live in my head. long ago somewhere else. wit' you.

summah breeze
makes me feel fi-ine
blowin' through the jazzband in my Mi-i-ind.


(yes, i know it's "jasmine", but i heard it wrong for so many years and i'm too old to change.)
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