Superstition Condition

[Originally written on 1.15.06]

The second date I had with Jon in the last week was this past Friday, as it happened to be the thirteenth and he was in the mood to go out.  Here would be a good time to note that our relationship is developing nicely – he has called me at least once a week since I spent a few nights with him at the Shore earlier this month, and will send me little notes through e-mail to give me boosts of confidence when I need it, as the hostility and tension seem to be rising around me.  It’s not worth getting into, but there is definitely resentment of the fact I am living here though not a part of the family, yet the only person qualified to make the call of whether or not that’s alright hasn’t complained once.

Getting away from all of that to spend time with Jon reminds me I need to keep looking for a place to live and worry about getting a job after I move.  We are definitely not at the point where living together has even been brought up, as I suspect he is not ready for such a level of commitment yet and that’s fine.  There is plenty of confidence things will progress as they are meant to, and I need to appreciate that we have gotten to this stage.

The ride down to Philly was rather pleasant, mostly due to the fact there was minimal traffic. What, were people too damn paranoid to go out on the 13th, with a full moon and B-movie perfect fog drenching the atmosphere?  Having someone you trust behind the wheel tends to put you at ease though, as does the joint you smoke as the metal machine you’re riding in screams across the highway.

Our destination for the evening was Abilene’s, a club I read was supposed to be having some sort of Friday the 13th dance party.  The venue was quite small and packed with people, but we agreed to attempt to make the most of it.  Well, no one was really dancing and the party aspect was certainly lacking, though the people reminded me of those who attended a certain Jersey club I used to frequent.  Complete with half dressed bodies awkwardly gyrating on stages around a mostly empty dance floor while cretins drooled nearby.

Neither of us were really interested in the scene, so we hit the bar for pints of beer accompanied by shots of whiskey.  Perched on the tall stools, we had a decent view of our surroundings and it reminded me of the early days of our relationship, where we would get shitfaced and talk trash on everyone for kicks.  The intent was never cruel, more like a childish game we engaged in for some cheap laughs at other people’s expense, but we thought it was harmless fun and were rarely serious about the things we said.  Jon would put on a stoic expression and adjust the rings on his fingers while scanning the rubes before nodding to one, reading them as the southern accent got heavier with each shot of whiskey he had.  How he could gather all of this insight just by observing behaviors for a few minutes was part of the charm to the feat, and a showman certainly did not reveal the secrets to one of his greatest skills, even though I know better than to ask.  Will certainly take credit for my part in encouraging him, holding back laughter despite my sides aching and wanting to burst.

A few hours later, we noticed that more and more people were filling the venue, which had been crammed from the beginning due to its small size.  Seeing as how we had consumed quite a few drinks, I suggested we wander somewhere slightly less crowded, if that was even possible in Philly on a Friday night.  The temperature had certainly dropped, though Jon kept me close as we walked South Street and made our way to Tattooed Mom’s.  We were relieved to find only a handful of people inside, which made it possible to actually get a drink from the bar without having to take up residence there.  He bought us another round and then led me upstairs where we proceeded to hog the roller coaster car.  This was something I had wanted to do since he brought me here for my birthday, and there we were, pints of beer in hand with his arm around me, his position slightly awkward to accomadate the extra length of his legs.

Old school punk music swirled into the conversations around us, and though we chatted from time to time about random things, the drinks we continued to consume were having an effect on our words as they became less comprehensible.  He politely excused himself to the bathroom for a moment, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s not gone for more than a minute before these two dudes randomly approach me.  Whatever they were trying to say wasn’t registering, so I just stared at them while watching Jon approach them from behind.  In the sweetest southern drawl he could spill from drunk lips, he politely requested that they ceased harassment of his lady and removed their prescence from sight lest they find themselves in a painful way.  Their faces suddenly turned rather pale as they stammered an apology and nearly tripped over each other while shuffling away.

Moments later this guy comes over to us and asks if there was any trouble, to which Jon replied everything was handled, his composure changing completely as he offered a friendly smile.  The stranger’s name is Chris and he came all the way up from fucking Maryland to check out South Street on account he heard there was some kind of alternative scene there.  He hands us a demo CD and engages in conversation with Jon about his band and other general music stuff.  Seeing him comfortable enough to let his guard down and chat in such a casual manner was rather refreshing, and I could tell that he really was trying to make this whole thing work.

Leaving the boys alone for a moment, I made my own stop in the bathroom and felt compelled to tag the wall AARON + ANGEL = ANARCHY!!! in large Sharpie letters, which now makes two places I have left this mark in Philly.

When I returned they were making last call; Jon and Chris had now been joined by his girlfriend and fellow band mate.  He asks if it would be possible to drive them to their hotel over on 12th, confessing they are pretty wasted and didn’t want to try and navigate a city they were unfamiliar with.  Jon actually smiled and said he’d be more than happy to help them out, and the two were quite grateful for the entire ride.  Showing random acts of kindness towards others is something he has always done, as he spent many years on the streets homeless and struggling for survival, where even the smallest gesture of spare change or a sandwich could keep him from killing himself that day.  They thanked us profusely when we arrived at the hotel, and Chris even tried to give Jon some money for the trouble, but he would have none of that and insisted it was purely a friendly favor.

After ensuring they got into the lobby safely, he drives over to a diner though I express being too tired to eat.  He chuckles while kissing my forehead and stating that he needs coffee so he doesn’t crash on the way home, though he purchases it in several travel cups in order to avoid sitting inside.  That’s the last thing I remember since I passed out shortly after departing Philly, though whether that was due to the alcohol or the fact I tend to fall asleep during long car rides [especially at night] is hard to say.  When I woke up, Jon was carrying me into his bedroom so I figured that superstitions aside, we had made it safely and enjoyed another wonderful evening together.


Birthday Celebrations Hostile City Style

[Originally written on this date in 2005]

Who needs extensive planning to enjoy a birthday?  Okay, there was some planning for the hair and outfit, but that’s it, I swear.  Special thanks goes to Wal*Mart for having an oh so perfectly tacky pink ‘Birthday Girl’ button.

Drove up to my grandma’s house in the late afternoon for some great conversation and a light lunch, not to mention picking up a card and birthday wishes from Dad.  It was nice to visit but a bit sad as well, because the town hardly ever changes and is just a reminder of why I feel so disconnected from that part of Jersey.  It’s a place I lived for several years that seem like they are millions of miles away now, but that is the way everything feels since I have gotten back from traveling.  Perhaps life on the road has effected me more than I care to admit, because if I get caught up in silly notions I will get distracted by them and believe that is the way things are.  Or maybe I am just thinking about things way too much.

With the evening coming fast, I returned to the house, showered and proceeded to assemble myself for the evening.  Rocked some red and white eye shadow to compliment the freshly touched-up colors in my hair, which was styled in Bettie bangs and loose curls.  Decided to wear a newly purchased circus-style black coat, grey and black pinstripe corset-style halter top and a black pleated skirt that just touches my knees.  Clipped some red bondage straps that I have had forever [they came from a shop on Saint Marks in NYC many years ago] onto the D-rings , slipped into black pothole tights, accented them with ed ankle socks and then strapped on a pair of black leather Mary Jane’s .

While hiding in the car to smoke a bowl the other day, I was startled by the ringing of my cell phone.  Ordinarily I do not pick up unknown or private numbers, but something in the back of my head told me I wanted to answer.  That instinct came in handy, because there was a familiar voice that greeted me from the other side.

It was Jon and my heart skipped a few beats — we have not been in contact pretty much since I left Jersey to go on tour with the carnival.  Then again, I did not really have the time or desire to talk to anyone, but that is not the point here.  After discussing the things we had been doing, Jon mentioned that he was back in the Garden State himself and said he wanted to give me a birthday to remember.

Jon asked me to meet him down in Philly, which I have only really visited when I was a young child.  We have designated spots where we usually meet, so the request was a bit strange.  However, it seemed to be part of whatever scheme he had up his sleeve, as I know him well enough that I always have to prepare for the unexpected, so I decided to play along.  Grabbed directions from Mapquest and took my first official ride to the City of Brotherly Love.

There was a smile on my face when I pulled into the parking lot, my sides about to  burst from excitement.  How many days had passed since we last saw each other?  They were not worth calculating and at that moment totally meaningless.  No matter how much time spans between our meetings, they unfold as though it never existed.  Jon had shaved his head when we parted ways over the Summer, and when I saw him with the Mercury, immediately I noticed that it had grown in, molded into a flawless pompadour.  The trademark white streaks were prominent under the lights that kept the parking lot from being dark.  He looked absolutely stunning in a black on black pinstripe shirt, his favorite patched-up pants, blue snake-skin boots and red leather jacket.  His entire face lit up when he saw me and as he slowly approached my heart swooned.

Our embrace seemed to last forever and could have spanned the entire collection of Hollywood Moments we built over the years.  He smelled like the ocean, black licorice and whiskey; the scent of his leather jacket was fresh with cologne and the colors of his tattoos stood out against the blackness of his shirt.  It would have been easy to lose myself in that moment, but the night had just begun and he pulled away to light a smoke for us to share.  Before we leave the lot, he gives me a little gift that we make use of while walking up a flight of stairs, across a pedestrian bridge where we emerged onto a place called South Street.  This random girl in platforms wearing black, green and yellow dread falls sees me and says: “I love your hair.  You’re beautiful honey…fucking gorgeous.”  Hooray for compliments from strangers!

Mako’s is the first bar we visit.  The door man wished me a happy birthday and instructed me to tell the bartender to give me a shot.  While he had noticed the date on my ID, Jon made sure he pointed out the fact as well.  As we make our way upstairs, he nudges me and jokes that I better be able to handle what is coming.  That ‘shot’ wound up being a Long Island Iced Tea which was 100% alcohol; Jon did shots of whiskey and laughed while I slowly drank the wicked brew.  A second was purchased as we watched people play pool.  While I had plenty of money I was told that spending it was out of the question.  The scene was not really my taste, or maybe it was due to the fact that all the people seemed to be hanging out downstairs.  We were upstairs with really bad music and easily grew bored with watching pool, so we decided it was best to head elsewhere, but not before we raced each other drinking a beer.

Even though it was fairly dark outside, I could see the illustrations clearly painted on the outside of the next bar we went to — a place called Tattooed Mom.  They were sideshow banners.  Well, perhaps not in the traditional sense, but the aesthetic of that kind of artwork was certainly there.  At that point I was beside myself with glee and we had not even gone inside yet.  Jon explained that it was one of his favorite bars to visit when he was in Philly so he thought I would enjoy it as well and so far he was right.

Inside was far more awesome than I could have ever expected.  There is tattoo flash in frames on the walls, creepy action figures and Bleeding Edge Goth type dolls on shelves hovering high in the air.  People are heavily tattooed and display prominent piercings.  There’s some rocking music that’s blending into the multitude of conversations around me, yet I felt so totally comfortable that it was almost ridiculous.  We did shots [my first one being free] of whiskey and snacked on a huge mound of nachos ‘n’ cheese while chatting about what we did over the  Summer.  On several occasions I found myself rambling because I was so captivated by him and probably made a fool of myself.  Something made my heart flutter, but I told myself it was a result of all the things I was putting into my body.

Jon wants me to check out the upstairs, so I follow him up a narrow flight and am thankful that I was wearing sensible shoes because my legs were feeling a bit rubbery.  The walls upstairs are covered with graffiti in vein of CBGB’s, so it was cool to have a NYC flashback for a moment.  There were bumper cars and an old wood roller coaster car just sitting up there as well.  No idea where they came from, but I totally wanted to steal them.

Jon and I managed to squeeze ourselves  into that wooden sled and toasted my birthday with a shot of whiskey.  At that moment I became aware that his arm was around me and he was holding onto me tightly, seemingly distracted by the mass of people around us.  Then he turns to me and plants a small kiss square on my lips, a sly smile following as he stands up and helps me out of the coaster car.  The bar was becoming increasingly crowded and it was a hassle to get any more drinks, so we decided to head out.

We wandered down to street and find ourselves at a place simply called 218.  At this point I am nearly delirious with excitement – the best I can describe it is to associate it with the same feeling I get after being pierced or tattooed.  It was a little overwhelming but I managed to keep things together.  Jon and I sit down at the bar where I have another free shot followed by rum and pineapple juice, while he has a pint and some shots of whiskey.  Then I find myself to be beyond drunk and not really sure how I made my way into the bathroom.  The call of nature may have guided me there for all I know.  However, I did recall leaving a tag in every bathroom I had visited, with that one being no exception.  There was also a chick who was not shy about hoisting up her skirt to show me her tattoo, and much more.  It amused me that there was no door to the stall, just a shower curtain, and an ugly one at that.

When I returned to the bar, I just had to share my bizarre bathroom experience with Jon, who laughs and says he is bored with the people there.  Next thing I know, we are walking down the street searching for another bar to go in.  Worth mentioning here that he held me close during this walk, almost in a protective way.  It was nice and felt comforting, which was needed since I definitely stumbled a lot.

By the time we made our way into a bar it was last call, which is always enough time for a free shot.  There was some dude that could not stop staring at Jon, and I guess he sort of has that presence about him.  Jon almost confronted the guy but was more concerned about getting us back to the parking lot.

All of that is a blur as we are climbing into my car and he instructs me to head towards a diner.  Jon was certainly in no condition to drive, but the place was too far for us to walk.  Calling a cab would have been a better idea, but in our heads we had found the best solution as I was sober enough to man the wheel.  We make it to the diner without incident and have a bit of a wake up call before going inside.

Driving may have been accomplished but I failed at walking.  All I remember is that we were crossing the street one moment, and then I was lying on the ground.  Jon is standing above me and I burst out laughing, drunkenly rambling about how I fell down.  He laughs too and hauls me to my feet.  Our eyes locked for a moment, and I was so close to his face that I touched my lips to his.  We continued to the diner and I had to put the momentary kiss in the back of my head.  Got some nasty marks on my knee, but that’s cool.  Now I have a reminder of the evening.

It was good to have breakfast in the form of a Western omlette on toast and cup o’ joe with tons of sugar — always a favorite after a long nite of drinking and needing something to settle the stomach.  It was an all too familiar scene for me.  So many times we had found ourselves on either side of a table with our minds soaked in alcohol and rambling as we stuffed our faces with breakfast foods before awkwardly parting ways even though neither of us ever wanted to.  This time it was different.  This time there was no boyfriend waiting up for me, wondering where I was and then accusing me of cheating when I did not explain.  This time I could stay with Jon for as long as I wanted.

In any event, I was in no condition to drive back to the house, so he insisted that I crash at his place.  When we get there it is a direct route to his bedroom where gave me something to change into.  He politely invited me into bed, taking me in his arms and holding me close the way he always did; one friend sharing comfort and security with another.  Then came the moment where something else happened that made Jon’s earlier prediction come true, though those details will always be locked in memory and not written words.

Everything had been different since the minute we had met in that parking lot.  It only built up for the rest of the evening, and as we laid there in our most vulnerable state, I could no longer deny the fact I loved that man despite the baggage he comes with and the nagging drug problem.  He has told me numerous times that he loves me more than he needs a fix, but that night he finally proved it, and there is no question of where his dedication lies.

Although I had slept well, my body was still weary when I woke up.  Had some fruit and tea with Jon as we blazed and watched some cartoons.  If I had not already made plans to visit my Dad, I definitely would not have left and part of me was definitely fighting against having to do so.  It was hard to say good-bye, especially since Jon almost refused to let me out of his grasp.  Every second I had spent in his arms was filled with safety and comfort, and I certainly do not feel that way at all now.  Thinking about all of this makes me miss him terribly.

The entire trip to and from my Dad’s house was absolutely horrible.  My body needed more rest, as I kept drifting off while driving, had a nap while at his place and had to pull over while on the highway driving back so I could vomit.  Suffice to say that drinking in excess is not something I really want to do again any time in the near future.  Sure I can  use the excuse that it was my birthday, but I felt awful and wished I was still with Jon.

Was able to smoke a bowl which helped make me feel better, and I decided against going out for New Year’s Eve because I just did not need to.  Jon called earlier to check in on me and we wound up talking for a few hours, which certainly helped me feel a lot better.  As I wait to fall asleep, I am promising myself that the new year will bring a new life for me.  There needs to be a change and I know that I am going to have someone by my side every step of the way.

Anti-V’Day Sentiments ’07

[Originally written 2.6.07]

Please take a moment to read about the origins of Valentine’s Day and educate yourself on how this ‘holiday’ came to be.  In years past, I often asked and wondered how it all started, so I found the article to be highly informative and quite different from things I was taught in grade school.  However, the traditions that once were truly signs of love have become distorted along the way into something that makes me want to vomit pink.  To make things perfectly clear, I am not “bitter” or “jealous” or anything like that.  As a matter of fact, I have taken this stance since I was in high school, because I felt that buying the crap which apparently would show how much an individual  liked or loved someone else [or perhaps as a cheap way to get in their pants] was just supporting the corporations that spent ridiculous amounts of money on ad campaigns and mass-producing the nauseating items.

There is no surprise that I still feel the same way today.  Furthermore, I am not an angsty or disillusioned teen; I am an adult and I still do not believe how utterly ridiculous people become when striving to please the object of their desire.  Last year my dear friend Jon and I observed the annual tradition of protest on the thirteenth of February, by dressing in black and going to Cherry Hill mall, which was quite the entertaining experience to say the least.  The official Anti-Valentine’s Day celebration occurred the following day, for which we also draped ourselves in a blackened wardrobe and went bar hopping on South Street.  We got incredibly shit-faced and wound up at Tattooed Mom’s where one of the most emotional conversations we ever had took place.

Of course I loved this man greatly and often felt it was something that many people do understand, which might have something to do with the fact that he was not someone I discussed with others.  Jon evidently felt the same way about me and during the six years we were knew each other, he remained a close and loyal friend.  There were various reasons we did not have a romantic relationship, mostly due to the fact that I had been dating other people.   In the past there were many moments were loose feelings that slipped out, but he was a gentleman and respected my choice to be involved with other men.  When that was no longer a factor, he certainly no longer held restraint over his feelings and I have to say it was quite overwhelming in the most wonderful way possible.  As we sat in the back seat of his ’49 Mercury on that fateful evening , Jon revealed his feelings for me once more and ignited a spark I did not think existed – and it was damn good.

The following month he asked me to marry him, but there were things in both of our lives that had to be straightened out before I could even consider the committment.  However, we agreed that once those things were in order, we would be together forever.  This story should have a happy ending.  For all intents and purposes, it certainly was supposed to.  Instead of finally being with a man who loved me unconditionally during all those years in which we grew closer and closer together as dear friends, I am left with only my fondest memories of him.  My brother, my partner in crime, and by far one of the most influential people in my life, was taken from me last Summer.  His death was no accident, and while I have grieved and continue to celebrate his life to preserve everything that he stood for, his death has changed me in ways I find difficult to explain.

Jon meant more to me than I can put into words, and not having him in my life has left a hole in my heart that I tried and failed numerous times to fill.  It hurts, but I always put on a plastic smile for everyone and rarely talk about how I really feel.  Since I am tired of that, I feel being honest is the best way I can communicate my feelings.  While all of these people are reveling in their expensive gifts and dinners and sexcapades, I find great disdain in their blatant exhibitions to the point of nausea.  Not so much because it is something that I am without and covet.  Believe me, I see the way couples are and looks can often be deceiving.  Though on the outside many appear to be happy, beneath this public facade there are arguments and tears and drama and bullshit.  In my heart, I know that I am far better not having such nonsense in my life, mainly because I am too old for such nonsense and have no time to waste on it any more.

My heart feels empty and while it has been suggested that I “move on”, there is little desire to and contempt for those who hurl such hurtful words.  Relationships for me have been lust-filled lies, deception and bullshit to get into someone’s pants.  Certainly that does not accurately describe all relationships, but I am still mourning the loss of someone who meant the world to me and not exactly in the right frame of mind to be considering the pursuit of a relationship.  Instead, I will continue to wear the ring Jon gave me, as it is by far the only true symbol of love that I possess, and I will hold onto it for as long as I wish.  It represents the one man in my life that never tried to fuck me over, in any way shape or form.

The next time you throw a tantrum because your boyfriend, lover, one-nite-stand, what-fucking-ever didn’t get you exactly what you wanted [or hey, maybe even nothing at all], consider yourself fortunate to have someone who at least made some sort of effort to please you.  Some of us have been left broken-hearted and no amount of gifts will ever fix that.  Pardon me while I carry on my unpopular tradition because it actually means more to me than mass-produced merchandise does.

Anti-V’Day ’06: Part II

[Originally written 2.15.06]

Firstly I want to mention that I saw an amazing sunset yesterday while coming out of Wal*Mart, where I finally purchased myself a clock so I know what time it is and drag myself out of bed before noon.  The clouds were a bluish-purple, with brilliant orangey-pink behind them, and the sun itself was a blazing ball of reddish-pink, the same as it was the previous day when I was crossing the border into Jersey.

Since I only had cereal to eat the whole day, I stopped for some grub on the way back to the house, because I have learned my lesson with introducing alcohol to an empty stomach.

Then it was off to South Street to hook up with my main man Jon.

Point of note here, I dressed in black again; this time a bit more formal with a lace trimmed skirt, vintage cashmere sweater and lush velvet jacket, accented with fishnet tights and comfortable leather pumps.

We met up in the same parking lot which had been chosen the first time I came to Philly and hung out with him, so that got the memories stirred up right off the bat.  Nerves were bubbling in my stomach for some strange reason.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that for the first time in the history of our wonderful friendship, I was single and could see him any time I wanted without some jealous boyfriend asking a dozen questions or making me feel like I was being a cheater for just wanting to spend some time with a dear friend of mine.   Come to think of it, the exes were always accusing me of that shit, but now I know it was because of their insecurities.

The sight of that beautiful maroon 1949 Mercury was enough to make me feel like I was on that 1950s date I always wanted, particularly when Jon stepped out.  He was dressed in a proper vintage suit, complete with tie and polished leather shoes, all of which were various shades of black,  hair so perfect it might as well have been clipped out of a magazine.  It took me a good minute or two of blank starring to realize he was offering me a hug.  We shared a beautiful Hollywood Moment before climbing into that metallic beast to smoke a blunt.  Halfway through it, he puts a small box in my hand, which appeared as though it contained some chocolates.  At first I thought it was his way of being ironic and cute, but discovered a much different treat inside.

Once we emerged from the Mercury I was feeling much better, a ridiculous smile plastered across my face as Jon escorted me across the pedestrian bridge and we hit South Street.  We may have been shouting obscene things at all those couples showcasing public displays of affection, but I am going to blame the influence of drugs.  Besides, the dirty looks we got were pretty amusing.  The bars were not overly crowded, mostly due to the fact that it was still early [around nine], but that just meant we could be loud and obnoxious without really bothering too many people.  We had a shot of whiskey along with a pint at several bars, some of which we stayed at longer than others.

By the time we arrived at Tattooed Mom’s, we decided to sober up a bit and just hung out for a while, talking about various things.  Mainly the choices we have made in our lives and how they have been affecting us, both individually and as friends.  That was when the topic of discussion went in a direction I had a feeling it would,and the age-old conversation about why we are not together surfaced.  Jon was the one who brought it up, stating that since I was single, I could at least be open-minded about giving it a chance.

The truth is that I have wanted to be with him more than anyone knows, and this is something we have been aware of for quite some time now.  However, Jon has also constantly expressed a fear that because of the people he was involved with and the things he did long before we met combined with the reputation he inherited from his father, there will always be a chance that someone would use me to get to him.  There were a couple of times in the past when this became a very frightening reality, which I have never really spoken of, and even now I am not sure if anyone would believe me.  Weeks and months would drop off the calendar where I had no communication from Jon, my mind coming up with horrible fantasies of disaster or convincing me I was a fool for thinking someone like him would go for someone like me.  For a while I thought these events were just drug-related paranoia, until I received some rather unpleasant messages from anonymous people.  As much as Jon has wanted to be a part of my life, he also said that he would never forgive himself if anything to happen to me because of him.  Thus the reason we are not, and have not been, together.

It hurts us both, and it always has.  While I came to accept these facts, and thought Jon did too, it seems he still harbors those old feelings.  Then again, I have to admit that I do as well.  It is rather difficult not to, after being such good friends for the past six years and having shared some really amazing times together.  Despite all of the hardships we have endured, we eventually wind up together and it feels as though things are meant to be that way.  No matter how much time passes from one meeting to the next, it does not exist the moment I find myself in his arms, and I feel more comfortable with him than with anyone else.  Jon has been here for me through all of my craziness, and never once did he try to bail on me as others have.

There is no doubt that he cares about me deeply, and even when he took my hands in his and told me he was in love with me, it was something I had known for a long time as well.  Those feelings have always been there, even if we did not always express them, but that is exactly what has always made our relationship so great.  Our bond is strong enough that we have connected on a level others do not understand, where we don’t have to constantly state our affections because we can just feel them.  Jon said that he was still concerned about his past coming back to haunt him, but assured me that he would always protect my life with his own.  It was a very profound thing for him to state and it left me a bit stunned, but his word has always been his bond and I find myself contemplating how serious he was.

We had a couple more shots before calling it a night, mostly because neither of us could have stomached another drop.  Instead of parting right away though, we sat in the Mercury to smoke the remainder of that blunt.  For a moment I wanted to say fuck it and run away with him.  Somewhere.  Anywhere. Where ever we could be alone and enjoy the beauty of what has continued to be an interesting adventure in life.  Something happened in that back seat I am not at liberty to discuss, as I have been asked not to and of course I respect this man more than anyone.  Active imaginations can form their own conclusions – I will neither confirm nor deny them and simply say that thinking about it now makes me smile.

We did say good-bye after that though,  mainly because he said there were things he had to take care of, perhaps hinting that involved pursuing a future together.  To say it was difficult to part ways and watch him drive off is a severe understatement, however, our annual tradition was once again a success and I am currently still bursting with happiness.