I saw Giant yesterday.
Of course I did. It’s retrograde, we waltz down old paths and get random messages from exes.
Y’all know I use the term ‘ex’ very loosely. We used to fuck and now we don’t. We remain very good friends.
We are both back in the same town after time away.
Had to catch each other up on our adventures.
I sat in a circa 1970’s folding chair in an unfinished kitchen eating Doritos listening to good tunes.
I didn’t really know what to expect. I have toured 3 houses of his in 4 years, all in varying states of renovation. The last one didn’t have a shower yet. The first one was glorious.
I knew he had bought a new fixer-upper. He flips houses among other things.
Says it will be ready for occupancy in 2 weeks. I am inclined to believe him even with every door off the frame and no stove in sight.
I have seen what he does with wood and walls.
His plan is to stay for a while. 2 years of being transient and living in project houses. He wants to be home.
Oh honey, I feel that in my soul.
He might have been the closest I ever got to feeling home with another human.
I think so, yes. This is the truth.
But he was a vacation property that I got to visit, I never owned it. I could read the stories on the walls of the others that had occupied the place when I wasn’t around. I never had to knock. I knew where the glasses were and not to touch the really good scotch. Always felt familiar, safe but he was never mine.
4 years and a few days since he barbecued a steak for me on the coldest night of the year. I reminded him of this. Said I was glad we could still love each other.
He said it would have been strange if I never came back.
Of course I come back. He is a touchstone and 90% good memories. We can even giggle about having norovirus simultaneously. Messy few days.
He said some self-deprecating things as well, which I countered with, “my blog tribe asks about you. They want you to be well, and so do I.”
I showed him pictures of Wolf and I (not those pictures). Gave him a virtual tour of my new attic nest. Tales of Florida tans and oceans and skipping the Hulk. My dorm room Airbnb and adventures in Texas. Went through the stories of the last 100 days with practiced ease. The escape from fuckboy island and the unplanned return. The Overlook in upstate New York, going to New Jersey for Greek food, belly laughing in a CVS. So much good scotch. Finishing with the blackout at Sirens. He has seen me drunk and I am pretty sure he found it adorable.
Told him I was finally being loved the way I loved. Jokingly apologized, “it’s like a lot a lot, kinda overwhelming, sorry about that.”
He is happy for me.
He told me about his girls, plural. I am so pleased for him. He prefaced a story by telling me “I was just saying ‘yes’ to things you know?”
Yes, this.
He is contemplating buying a business misses being Charon and escorting the dead. He’s mostly content where he is. He gave me a quick tour of the new house and outlined what I can only imagine will be a beautiful, inviting, open concept basement suite he is going to start working on when upstairs is finished. He is building himself a home again and seems happy about it.
We are both going to yoga. Both being better to our bodies. Both relatively content. It was a good reunion.
I asked him what would make him happy.
A finished upstairs apartment. Another, more permanent, personal project to work on, more certainty about the future.
“Less limbo, I’ll feel better when this is done.” Gesturing around a half-finished main floor. Really just needs some paint and trim, and a good clean.
I knew exactly how he felt. My mind immediately flashing to the unfinished word documents and scribbled notes for the series I am writing.
Both in a holding pattern. Both so very close to being home. We just have to keep working towards it and we are both kinda tired. It’s hard knowing what you want and being so close, but not quite there. Especially when we were both lost and wandering for the last few years.
He dropped me off in time to go to yoga on his way to bang his yoga instructor. He has decided she is older than me, but I think we are the same age. I hope I didn’t break him.
Yoga kicked my ass yesterday. My left side is all sorts of messed up from years dancing.
I didn’t go to work; I didn’t want to. Ate good food, had good conversation and stretched and meditated in a warm room surrounded by strangers.
Fell into a beautiful deep sleep last night and dreamed of Wolf.
I have been anxiously awaiting the return of my dirty muse.
I woke up early this morning to the pungent smell of cigarette smoke and Dave talking on the phone.
He has been gone 10 days, picked him up yesterday morning.
The sun was streaming through the door and I smiled.
A paragraph of porn presented itself and I managed to get it typed out before wandering downstairs for coffee.
I hadn’t realized how used to solitude I had gotten. I spent the 10 days nesting upstairs. I didn’t want to be living out of bins, bags and boxes anymore. But the distraction of that had taken my attention away from writing. Forcing myself to work nights, trying to fill my coffers and failing, then sleeping the days away. Just getting up enough to let the demon dog out and make sure she ate.
I am so happy to be writing again. I realized if I can sell 2000 copies of Wolf & Witch I can stop stripping and just focus on the series. Kinda like finishing the upstairs apartment so I can work on building a home.
Talked to my publishing helper lady today. She had some good ideas for cover art. I now have 2100 words of the second installment down. Better than the 345 I have been sitting one for the better part of 2 weeks. And I would imagine Giant is home today, painting this or trimming that.
We are not where we want to be yet, but we are getting there.
When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter
Hozier & Marin Morris
