crash into my arms

I knew it was going to be an ugly day today.

I set my alarm for 7:30 this morning instead of 7.  I almost didn't notice the alarm blaring at me either, because I was dreaming and incorporated the sound into my dream.  I do this a lot, and it's scary.  Sometimes I do it when people are talking to me and I'm asleep.  Holding conversations with people while I'm sleeping is wierd.  I found out once that I talked for twenty minutes on the phone with my at the time boyfriend all while I was asleep.  I couldn't remember anything I said and it made me paranoid.  I talk in my sleep.  I used to walk in my sleep too, but luckily that stopped.  I woke up a few times outside curled up next to trees or laying out in the backyard of my parents house cold and wet.  My parents were forced to get a dead bolt lock that locked with a key from the inside.  Fire hazard but at least I wouldn't be roaming the streets in my sleep at night.  Who knows where I went or what I did?  The worst part is just not knowing.  Having people tell you you said this or did that and not being able to recall or control it was definitely creepy.  So this morning I dreamed of my alarm clock going off, but I thought it was JUST in my dream.  Luckily it sent me into a panic and I woke up to find it was my real alarm, but because I was so violently awoken from my r.e.m. sleep I wasn't able to just be awake.  I had to give myself ten more minutes.  I knew I was going to be late for work and honestly didn't care.  It's friday.  My boss is out of the office for the day and the fact that they never care anyhow didn't hurt either.  

I took my time getting ready.  I wanted to wear these red tights I have but decided against it since it's February and all.  I threw on some jeans and a sweater and sauntered out to the bus stop.  The forty minute ride seemed longer than ever.  I read a few chapters of the book I am currently reading, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn by Betty Smith.  Finally near the end of the line was my stop.  I looked out the window and saw how dark it was.  It's always dark, but there was something heavy to the way it looked today, something thick and tired about it.  I stepped off the bus and crossed over Van Ness Avenue and started walking down Union Street.  I never wait for the connecting bus, because it takes the same amount of time for me to get to work walking as it would to wait for the bus and then ride the six or seven blocks. 

As I started down the hill I felt the heavy drops of dew and fog sting against my cheeks and lips, and cling to my eyelashes.  The moisture clinging to my eyelashes made everything sparkly looking, but that soon faded after too much moisture caused my vision to be completely blurred.  I was walking down Union Street, practically blind.  I thought this is what it must be like for glaucoma patients.  By now the droplets were streaming down my face.  It felt like I was crying only I wasn't.  I could only imagine what I looked like to others on the street.  I didn't dare wipe my face though.  Besides the fact that my hand too was soaked and would just be wiping away water with water I knew that I would end up looking like some homeless smeary eyed girl.  I decided I would wait until I got to work and blot myself off in the bathroom.  I still look a little smeary eyed, but not too bad.  My poor book as ragged as it already was can now add water damage to dog eared, thin paged and falling apart as part of it's lovely discription.

 
My thoughts lately are have been of sweet Ben.  Benson.  You came over in the middle of the night for the free alcohol I was having and willing to share with anyone who would come over and keep me company.  We talked and watched the news together over vodka shots.  It was the day after Interpol played the Filmore, and I still had a hang over... so I had to nurse it.  You only stayed twenty minutes because you had to get to work, at the KUSF radio station.  I listened to your show that night and laughed out loud whenever you were on the air.  We kept in contact and in a few months you moved in.  You were everything I was not.  Cute, smart, philosphical, edgy, spontaneous but we had so much in common.  You even tried on and showed me how cute you'd look in little white frilly girly panties for me.  If that isn't true friendship I don't know what is.  We shared royal gate together, and got nachos together way too often.  You were nice enough to put our names on the guest list for the sold out Elefant show at Bottom of the Hill, quite possibly one of the smallest venues I've ever been in.  He finally dropped out of school and quit working at the radio station.   After he told his parents, he made the decision to sell or give away all of his stuff, pack one bag filled with clothes and a few books and with no money he moved out to Brooklyn.  His friend bought him the one way ticket.  I slipped a note under his door the morning he was to leave.  It was a sad goodbye letter.  I think I cried the whole time I wrote it.  I never get sad at goodbye's.  I usually don't cry, but then again I'm usually the one leaving.  It hurts a little more when people leave you I guess. 

Anyhow, I've been thinking about Ben a lot lately.  I tried to get in contact with him when I was in New York in May.  Didn't end up happening though.  I guess I can't just pop up in New York and expect him to be home or have time for me anymore.  I hoped on the J or maybe I took the L?  I don't remember and headed out towards his home.  Thunder storms ensued, and the rain started to really come down.  I decided I wasn't going to wander around Brooklyn all wet until he answered his phone or called me back so I got back on a returning train to manhattan.  Quite possibly the only time Ben has ever disapointed me.  How fun would it have been to go running through the streets in the rain?  Rain never bothered me...

This time I gave him 2 months warning.  I miss my Ben!