mariekimble

Good grief!

So much to report in the last week and a half that it is rather overwhelming to do so here.

Presently, fighting off strep throat. Uhhh...I think I know who the culprit is. Mmmmm? Feel like a teenager who came home after prom night and has no excuse for why her dress has a stain in it.

Strange how sometimes you are so on the boards with those in your friends list. Myself and pica_pica seem to be living parallel lives. The only difference is I took the road less travelled and the hitchhiker was a bit more "safer" to travel with.

I don't know if it is what has been passing through my crazy house of love or just my own self-obsessed and sexee attitude but lately I've been reflecting lot on past relationships. Not in the usual dreamy sort of way but in a "mmmph- that-REALLY-happened" sort of way.

Today is the birthday of one of those whom I had one of those relationships. I'm giddy in reflection for the doors it opened and breathe easy for the burn marks it scorched on the bottom of my heart so that I won't ever do it again. It all revealed to me the things I thought I would never do but did anyway and still got out fairly safe and sane. I joke with a few friends when we talk about breakups, "If I can survive Mat ____, I can survive this." Mat (with one T as he reminded me) and he would love to hear me credit him with being one of the most influential people in my life--a touchstone. Easy it would be to list the all the bad, but then again, I signed up for the experience and I've managed via years of wearing the same shoes in reverse that it is just simply a matter of walking in and out of insecurity and not settling old markers. He is who he is by his own choices. At the time I wanted validation and his compensation was what I really expected, I played the game too. He still is around doing the same thing, living the same life with another version of another me. My intention of that statement isn't narcissistic but more of an observation, because like myself, I went through a number of stylized versions of the same song. I haven't met his new girlfriend or the many in-between and if it is the same one that he was with when I walked out of his loft two and some odd years ago, I'm sure it hasn't changed much. I haven't talked to Mat in more than a year and that was via an email to request some coverage in his publication, in which he quickly declined (just doing my job) and as I carefully word my thoughts here in case his very large world expands to a friend of a friend of a friend on this site...I refer to him with the best of reflection. Crazy as that may seem, his large world actually collided with a website I posted defaming him. It happened, back in the day when I found more enjoyment in producing drama in my life than putting it on paper and I dedicated this yahoo group to the hatred of this man and well Mat has a sordid reputation of being a semi-famous anti-celebrity in a certain world of jet setters and petulant people. Someone found the site and being who he is, used it as fodder to get him some more tread on the back of his publicity bike. It got all crazy, some woman who has a press badge started emailing me with fun little quips like, if I really was a woman I would know what a man he was in the sack and apparently I wasn't getting it like her because I was so bitter. But it served up as another excuse for us to get back in contact, do the rollercoaster ride again, run to Vegas, pitch some nasties to each other and finally instigated the famous final scene for me. He was the last man before my last relationship, whom I fell completely head over heels for. The heart sunk to the bottom of the concrete while my feet where in the air sort of funny feeling kind of way when love takes you off guard. An ironic twist is that both my last boyfriend and Mat have two simularities in their astrological charts: Mat is a air sign (libra) with a Pisces moon and B is also a air sign (gemini) witha Pisces moon. Needless to say the combination shot and sank this Leo to her knees to lick the buckshot off her ass. I was with Mat at a time in my life when I thought in order to be loved I had to give up a lot of myself and while I was with B it was set straight that I didn't. The comparisons stop there because I stopped comparing everyone to Mat years ago. Mat has no comparision and he would be hearing the buttons on his ego vest rip wide open right now if he were to be reading this...but then again, I insert my ego here to think he would be. Anyhoot, he was the one whom I was completely crushedby and left hanging by a thread when I told him I loved him. There I was dangling off a cliff when he said that I said that to manipulate him. I had to learn to scramble back up on my own and for that I thank him. I learned from the best. Since then, I have managed to say those three deadly words but I've yet to fire the first shot.

He loves Bukowski, listening to the sound of his own ridicule and gloats over his success, well-deservedly, from being a drunken-skipped-over-pimply-faced- punk from La Mirada who was told he would be the most likely to end up on on skid road to being a cleaned up self-made man who has a six-figure salary, a street education, nubile young art students crossing and uncrossing their nobby knees just to get his attention, older women purveying art just to get breathe in his opinion and his words are probably read by a lot of you everyday on MSN. I've had the pleasure of seeing this happen over the course of eight years and I'm still peddling. He was my inspiration, my lover, my teacher and I was his muse, his mishap and misbegotten. He gave me plenty of opportunities and oddly enough opportunties that pushed me into the field I am now leaving. When I declared to him several years ago that I wanted to be a writer, he told me to write everyday and never stop. He gave me one of my first writing assignments. He offered me a business opportunity that he said only he could trust me with and Thank God it feel through , so I could do this on my own instead. What he damaged; he insured. What holes were left in my heart he filled with some of the kindest filler any Earl Schieb could offer. Today is his birthday and for the first time in a very long while--I read his column. He refers to his girlfriend, his girlfriend, his lovely girlfriend and all I could think about is his proposal..."I'd marry you if you could let me sleep with with other women." I still give him tons of credit, he gave me tons of credit. When I say journal I mean his blog not a column in say...the art journal. He is just a man and perhaps that is what I didn't see at the time and he just kept trying to remind me.