pepsi in my hair

Last night I watched a fairly devastating documentary about stressed-out Iraq war veterans called "The Ground Truth". I've seen a lot of good docs about this war and I have to add this one to the list. It was basically a series of testimonies from returning soldiers who were having problems moving on with their lives after witnessing and participating in so many civilian deaths in Iraq.
There was this one young guy, a sort of gentle giant type, who seemed especially haunted. Like the rest of them in the film, he came back from the war a different person and just didn't know how to move on with all the ghosts and demons he was carrying around. A psychologist in the film talked about "intrusive thoughts". She said some of these men and women had intrusive thoughts 24 hours a day. It seemed like this young man could barely get through the interview without such thoughts.
He attributed his survival, so far, to his wife. Just the other night, his very young wife had said something that really affected him.
"We're in this together", she told him.
He couldn't get over that. All the men in the film talked about how isolated they feel. And apparently a lot of marriages don't survive after these men and women return. But this young woman was sticking by her man and trying to show him he wasn't alone. I don't know that he quite believed it. But clearly the prospect of having that one person on his side, trying to understand him and help him heal, gave him some hope.
I don't know how I would have reacted a couple of months ago, to that moment in the film. I suppose I would have just thought "good for you". But last night, I immediately thought of Miss Music. If there's a kind of person who can say "We're in this together" and really mean it, she's certainly a prime example. I have to admit, the very concept still seems strange to me. Not just unfamiliar. Maybe more like abstract. And it's not that I think it's impossible. I can believe it with other people. I think I've witnessed it. I just find it hard to imagine myself in that kind of partnership.
And that's not because I don't think I'm worthy or deserving, by the way. Or incapable of it. And I don't think it's one of those "I wouldn't want to be in a club that would have me" things, as some of my friends have conjectured.
And I shouldn't say that I can't imagine it. I've been imagining it almost since the moment Miss Music told me she had feelings for me too. Or more accurately I've been trying to imagine it. Trying to accept it. Believe in it. Let go of all the resistance I seem to have for it.

I met Miss Music the day after my latest film "Lovable" had its television premiere, ten days after it had its world premiere. There's nothing that's happening here that doesn't remind me of something I said or talked about in that film. Some people have said that the film was like my little prayer to the universe, asking it to bring someone into my life. I didn't see it that way. Maybe it seems like a false distinction but all I wanted to do was say "I still want a family. And wanting that is the major issue in my life"
Of course some people always suggested I didn't want it enough. If I wanted it more, it would have happened. And as I said in the film, though I hated hearing that, I understood there was probably some truth to it. It wasn't exactly that I didn't want it enough though, but more that I wanted something else too.
My problem, according to other people, was that I didn't believe it was possible. I always knew that was an issue. But it wasn't until Miss Music came along that I found out how deeply I didn't believe it.
I could imagine meeting someone, falling in love, having a girlfriend again. And I suppose I could imagine having a relationship that lasted a little longer than the last few. But that was all I knew so that was all I could imagine. Everything beyond that was just a story I would tell myself. I couldn't really see myself in that story but I couldn't let it go either.

Of course it's still a little too early to say that I'm going to have it with Miss Music. But I've had glimpses of it in our short time together and everytime I have a glimpse, I know I'm seeing something I've never seen before.

A few weeks ago Miss Music and I went to her hometown for the weekend. It turned into quite a comedy of errors. And the first error came within moments of arriving at her family home, which her parents had vacated for a trip to her father's homeland.
They live in an isolated area. It was pitch black or close enough. Miss Music was inside airing the place out. I was outside having a smoke. She called out to me and asked what I was doing. I told her. She said I could smoke on the patio. I asked her where the door was. I could see a door but it didn't seem to have a porch or steps. She laughed and told me it was on the other side of the house. I looked over and spotted it.
My knee is fucked up. As it turns out, it's going to need surgery. I don't stand easily. So I wasn't all that happy standing around in the front yard, having a smoke. The prospect of a patio was a great relief. And now that the door was identified, my relief was in sight.
I was kind of excited as I headed for the door. But there was a step and needless to say, I didn't see it.
I pride myself on having pretty good balance. It sounds silly but it's true. I've tripped over things as much as the next guy and maybe more than most, but I usually right myself. When we were kids we used to play this game which basically consisted of trying to get people to fall on the ice. I was one of the stars of that game. Good at making other people fall, good at not falling myself.
But sometimes, even the best of us have no choice. We're going to fall. In this case, I don't think "fall" quite says it. I didn't so much fall as take off. I flew.
I was holding a can of Diet Pepsi in one hand. I stuck that hand out to break my fall. The Pepsi exploded.
I lay there for a moment, flat on my face, Pepsi dripping off my hair, and just tried to reorient myself. My knee hurt like hell but it had hurt before the fall. I turned over on my back and tried to figure out if anything else was hurt. I couldn't feel anything but I wasn't completely sure. I don't know why I didn't just try and stand up. In fact, looking back on it now, I think that, in itself, was a telling moment. Instead of trying to stand on my own and seeing how I did, I called out to Miss Music.
"Honey, can you come out here and help me out?"
Or maybe I said "help me with something".
I said it in a calm voice. As she walked outside, she had no indication anything was wrong.
Then she saw me. The wet ground all around me.
(Maybe you're asking yourself, "if it was so dark, how could she see me so clearly?" Well that's because there was one of those motion detector lights. But the light only came on AFTER you passed the step. So I turned on the light but only as I flew through the air.)
Apparently her first thought, as she saw the Pepsi soaking the ground around me, was that it was blood. She ran over to me, calling my name. It was a distance of only a few yards but I think she was starting to cry before she got to me.
I guess I realized how I must look to her so I tried to sit up immediately to show her I was actually all right. Gradually, as the relief flowed through her and replaced the panic, she began to laugh. I told her it was Pepsi, not blood, dripping from my head. She laughed some more. But I could still hear the panic and relief in her voice.
I stayed on the ground for some time, sitting up, Miss Music behind me with her arms around me.
I couldn't get enough of it.
It was something I can't say I've ever felt. Such a simple thing and yet completely new. If it wasn't slightly inappropriate, I'd call it novel. Of course I've had girlfriends hug me before. And though I'm less confident about this, I'd say I've had girlfriends hold me before too.
But not like this.

It was just a moment. And I know I'm making a meal of that moment. But it felt like a meal.

The other thing I've been wanting to write about is my identity.
For probably the umpteenth time, I had a friend - a new father - tell me the other day that having children completely changes your feeling of yourself in the world. It changes your identity. It's not about you anymore.
I don't know why anyone feels the need to tell me that. Maybe I shouldn't take it so personally. Maybe they're just talking about themselves. Maybe it's not the "be careful what you wish for" warning that I often take it as.
"You've been alone a long time. You're not going to be able to make the adjustment."
I've often said that I was tired of everything being about me and ready for that to end.
I'm sure that if it ever happens, if I ever have kids, I'll miss everything being about me. That seems inevitable. But as far as my identity goes, that's already shattering.
And it's not because I'm now someone's boyfriend or not alone as of this moment. It's not just that my identity has changed, with the change in my circumstance. It's that I'm starting to wonder how well I knew myself in the first place. Of course I would have always said that we can't really know ourselves. But I guess I'm starting to think that I've been especially clueless, especially for someone who's made three films more or less about himself.

The other night, Miss Music and I were having one of those arguments we've been having occasionally lately. She says that the honeymoon is sort of over and "the uglies" are coming out. I don't think that's quite accurate. I think it's more about me, whether voluntarily or not, trying to crawl back into my (old) shell.
There's usually a point, ten minutes in or so into the argument, where she's still kind of mad at me but whether she knows it or not, I know it's basically over and any second now, she'll give me one of those little warning smiles she gives me. So when she warned me that there was no point to holding onto my identity because she was going to shred my identity, I just had to laugh.
I had to laugh because I'm not sure how much there's going to be left to shred. I have no doubt I'm trying to hold onto it but more and more I'm wondering if the thing I'm trying to hold onto ever existed in the first place.

This is really hard to talk about and I'm not sure why I'm even trying. I'm not sure if it's identity or personality I'm talking about here. Identity or character.
All I can say is that, like everyone else, I've interpreted everything that's happened to me in this life, through the filter of my image of myself in the world. And between seeing myself through Miss Music's eyes, and seeing myself react to this new circumstance in my life, I'm starting to see how inaccurate that image was.
At this point, if I were to find out that I'm actually a lousy driver, I'd just have to add it to the list of new discoveries.
Alongside the discovery of what a miserable fuck I can be.

The other morning I drove Miss Music to meet some friends and get a ride out of town. For the second of four weekends in a row, she was leaving me. I wasn't all that happy about that and to top it off, I hadn't slept. I was just waiting for her friends to arrive and for her to get out of the car and let me go back to bed.
One of her friends arrived and came over to the car. He said something about going into the store to get something. When he left, Miss Music did a pretty funny imitation of my reaction to her friend, which apparently was more or less the same way someone would react to a buzzing fly they were trying to ignore.
I've always thought I was a friendly guy. Maybe with an edge but still basically a social animal. I've heard that assumption challenged but nothing's ever convinced me I was that far off in my feelings about myself.
And I think I'd still say that I'm capable of friendliness, sweetness and generosity.
But what I'm starting to see is that that, huge cliche though it may be, I've had this pretty profound shell around me. I think I've learned all kinds of strategies to compensate for it. And I don't think it ever destroyed the friendliness or sweetness I was raised with. But it was there. It's still there. It's not just some "edge" that I have, It's a weapon as much as a shield. Or maybe the shell metaphor is completely the wrong one here. It's not just something I carry around with me. It's something that's in me.
A deadly strain of self-possession.

Okay maybe I'm exaggerating. But, if you'll bear with me, I have another example.
I was just diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. That's my latest news. Miss Music was thrilled at the diagnosis. She wanted me to lose weight for my health; now it's more than just something my girlfriend wants me to do.
I have to admit that the timing of all this is kind of hilarious. I've hated my body for a long time now. My fat belly has been the single greatest source of depression for me ever since the other source - my career - took a turn for the better. Part of the reason I hated it was because it made me less attractive to women. In fact a few short days before Miss Music and I started up, a friend of a woman I went out with confirmed for me that the woman in question really liked me but ultimately couldn't get past my corpulence.
So along comes Miss Music and she thinks I'm cute. She may want me to lose a little weight for my health but still, she's not kicking me out of bed. I actually stopped thinking about how fat I was. I stopped worrying about it. I was fat and somebody loved me anyway.

What does this have to do with the issue in question?
Well now I'm really watching what I eat. But the fact is, I would have always said that I watched what I ate. I would have even said that I ate pretty well. But the truth was, the only sense in which I ate well was compared to how badly I could have eaten. Because I didn't follow my impulse to eat fresh bread and melted butter for every meal, I figured I was doing okay.
I thought I ate well but I still got fat.
It sounds like denial to me.
Miss Music suggested that my big belly was my protection against the world. Once upon a time, not too long ago, I would have laughed off such a suggestion.
"I didn't want to be fat! I hated being fat!"
I would have talked about how much I worked out. "Would I have killed myself at those exercise classes if I wanted to be fat?"
I still sort of feel that way.
And I still find it hard to believe that the changes in diet I'm making are going to have the desired effect. I can't imagine being anything but fat.

I also can't imagine not smoking, by the way, which I've promised to quit at the end of the summer.

And before Miss Music came along, I really don't think I could imagine myself being anything but alone.

I was alone, that was the basic fact and while the world around me could be filled with profound and beautiful things, ultimately no person or thing could ever be more than a lovely distraction,
Whenever I said "we're all alone, ulimately", which I think I said a lot, I felt pretty confident of the basic truth there. Even when I imagined having a girlfriend, I don't think I imagined that basic truth changing too profoundly.
And it still seems like that's the logical way of thinking. How can that change?
How can someone truly be IN it with you?

Well, I don't know. But maybe someone can be. Even with a fat, chain-smoking fuck like me.

she'll be my mirror

Last night my (new) girlfriend laughed about how much she was looking forward to our first clothes-shopping trip. Meaning clothes for me, I assumed. She'd mentioned it a few times already. She's not one of those girlfriends that tries to change you - I know that's a mouthful - but she has mentioned that most of my clothes are a bit too big for me and though she's not pushing it, we both know that a shopping trip is inevitable. I do favor oversized clothing, when I can find them. I feel like they somehow hides my hugeness though I've been told a few times that they just makes me look even huger than I am.
I've had a bad knee for about a month now (approximately the same period I've had a girlfriend) and I feel like I've gained a little weight so I'm not particularly interested in buying clothes right now. On the other hand, I'm kind of happy that my new girlfriend - let's call her "Miss Music" or "M" for short - is a thrift store fan and so at least our first shopping trip will be relatively inexpensive.
I started to write a blog entry about her after the first night we confessed our mutual attraction but I never got back to it. I guess there are two reasons for this. One, I don't exactly know how to write about her without betraying confidences or sharing details she wouldn't want shared. This has never been a problem when writing about the women who've rejected me, not because I didn't care about their feelings (though often I didn't) but because they were relatively unidentifiable. But Miss Music is my girlfriend and may be for a long time and even if only one person who knows me, reads this, it could be embarrassing if I'm not sufficiently secretive. And anyone who knows me, knows that's not my strong suit.
I guess the second reason I haven't posted anything in a month is because, on some level, now that I have a girlfriend, I don't really need a blog. I still have things I need to express. Write down. But there's less of it. And the truth is, the only things I really need to express right now are the things that I'd be afraid to say to her. Which I'm not going to share here, for obvious reasons.
I have bad thoughts. I call them "demons" but we all know they're my thoughts, not some satanic visitation. If it wasn't so frightening, it would just be really really interesting.
I've heard of people in relationships, fucking things up because they're afraid of being hurt and they want to push their partner away before their partner can hurt them. Like a preemptive breakup. Perhaps they don't want to break up but if it's going to happen, they want to be the one to do it.
I've never done that and that's not the situation here.
Almost all my relationships before this were with unavailable women. When they weren't leaving me, they were about to leave me.
Miss M isn't going anywhere. She thinks we can make it. And I think she's right. I'd be crazy to let her go. She's pretty well everything I thought I needed and never thought I'd have.
But of course, that's a bit of a challenge for a guy like me.
In my last film, Lovable, I said something to the effect that all these years I've wanted a wife, a family, someone to share my life with, I've obviously wanted something else too. Something that got in the way of this other thing I wanted. I wasn't sure what I was saying when I said it, or when we put it in the film. But I knew there was some truth to it.
Now I think I understand it a bit more clearly, which is why I say these bad thoughts are so interesting.
I guess I knew that if my solitary life were ever seriously challenged, it might be hard to give it up; that the old "be careful what you wish for" scenario would rear its ugly head. I just had no idea how devious and insistent the demons of solitude would be.
I've never felt particularly critical of my girlfriends. Or at least I never looked for things to disapprove of or wondered if someday those things would get to me. And there was probably a simple reason for this. I was too busy winning them back. Daily, weekly, monthly. Panicking because they had that look in their eyes, celebrating because I'd fought for and received a temporary reprieve.
So far that isn't happening with Miss Music and I think I can say that it's not going to. It's not in her character. If she left, she'd be gone. There'd be no winning her back. But as long as she's there, she's there. Or maybe I should say "here" instead. She's here.
There's no drama.
But that's the good news and the bad news. Drama was what I knew. Drama was how I knew I was in love. My friends say "You must be too old for drama" but I'm not sure they're right.
And so that's my challenge. To stay interested without the drama. To stay interested because of all the good things I can have if I give up on the drama. All the things I said I wanted.
It's a battle but so far I think I'm winning.
So anyway, I was downstairs a little while ago, going through my underwear drawer, making a pile of things that no longer fit me, if they ever did. And I thought about the inevitable clothes shopping trip and imagined Miss Music and I standing in the racks, holding T-shirts and sweaters up against my body. Then going to the changeroom and coming out and modelling for her. Grumbling the whole time of course.
One of the reasons I don't like shopping is because it's hard to find things that fit me. Things I would wear anyway. It's really frustrating to see clothes I like, only to find that they don't make it in my size. The other reason I don't like shopping is because I don't like mirrors. I know that sounds strange coming from someone who uses mirrors in his films but in my films, it's just my face I see. And I've more or less made my peace with my face. But that's not the case for my body.
I pretty well never look in the mirror when I go clothes shopping. I'm sure that comes as no surprise to many. If I like a piece of clothing and it fits me, I buy it. If I look in the mirror to see how I look in it, that's just going to ruin things. I hate the way I look in the mirror and I'm not going to be able to judge how this or that piece of clothing looks on me, when all I'm thinking about is how fat I am.
So there I was thinking about this and the Velvet Underground song, "I'll be your mirror", came into my head. If I go shopping with Miss Music, I won't have to look in the mirror. She'll be my mirror.
And a sweeter, more loving mirror you couldn't find.