I know times are getting hard
but just believe me girl
someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
we'll have it good
we'll have the life we knew we would
my word is good
(Q) is divorced from her husband. She is an amazing, incredible girl. You meet them sometimes, you know. Those girls. And you wonder how they got that way, how anyone can be so fantastic and still be here, and here enough to be perfectly normal and cool and rad. And two minutes after meeting her you forget how beautiful and funny and kind she is, because quickly she is simply (Q). But if you were on the trolley she would not be (Q), she would be holy shit who is that girl and where are they making them? And she had a great husband, as great as her.
She used to sit on the floor in my living room and nurse her baby. And then she would stand on the porch of my house and watch her swing. And then she was sitting in my car and talking about the divorce, which was coming and coming rather suddenly. She had had a dinner. Not a liquor and dancing dinner, but a cocktails and Scrabble dinner. That's more her speed anyway. She invited the neighbors who had just moved in and she was very excited about them because they are a married couple the same age as (Q) and her husband (may he rot in hell) and they did not have any couple friends of their own, it was always (Q) and us or him and his friends or a bunch of us together but never (Q) and her husband and another couple, and those things are fun, and those things are important. So she was excited. And they were friendly and cool, and she invited them to her home because yay.
So the neighbor's husband was in the bathroom or had gone home to get something, she does not know, but (Q) went in to the kitchen to make some drinks. Five minutes? Two minutes? The rest of your life? She came out and her husband was having sex with the neighbor's wife. She said he didn't stop when she came out, but finished, then got up, walked past her, and went to the back yard and peed in a bush. This is what makes her think that the husband was in the bathroom, because why is he peeing on a bush? I guess the bathroom is occupied. These are the things you fixate on. The bathroom. The bathroom.
So very quickly a divorce is coming. In the meantime she does not want to live in this fucking house. She takes their girl and moves out, and the neighbor's wife moves in because there is a divorce coming very quickly for them as well. So (Q) moves out, but there is still the baby and visitation and necessary communication. And every once in a while her phone will ring and it is the neighbor's wife, because arrangements need to be made to pick up the baby and he is too busy or too dick or too something, because what kind of fucking asshole would have the neighbor's wife call to arrange this? That is another long, long rant, but meanwhile, (Q)'s phone rings and it is the neighbor's wife. And here is the thing. (Q) has moved out, but has not managed to take care of details yet. So the phone rings and on the other end of the line is this woman that (Q) was so excited about, that (Q) had visions of friendship and babysitting and birthday parties with, this woman that came into (Q)'s home and helped to destroy it and is now living in it with (Q)'s not so fabulous husband. This woman is calling (Q), but because she is calling from (Q)'s own living room, when (Q) looks at the phone it says "(Q) calling". Her own name. Get the phone, it's you. And this is the only time that she loses it, when she talks about this. Seeing her own name come up on her caller ID.
It really is the little things.
And sometimes, these times, when I am feeling particularly vicious or wronged or just fucking insane about what is going on right now, (Q) comes back to me. Even though I have not seen her in a really, really long time. And even though we were not super close friends, but close enough that when everything went wrong in my own life, she came and she shared and she understood and she took some of it, and still, amazing and good and awesome. And this is not one of those situations where I go It is not so bad because someone always has it worse, because that is fucking ridiculous. If your arm is cut off it does not stop hurting simply because someone's arm AND leg are cut off. No. But I think about this now and then, because I go, you really do just do what you have to do. You really do just pick it up and keep it up and stop fucking crying about it at some point, and sometimes it is necessary for that point to come sooner than you think. What are you going to do? Your life is not going the way you thought it would. Nothing is going as planned. The dreams you had are gone and the people you love are monsters and the life you had is over, what the fuck are you going to do now?
What are you going to do now, self? That thing that you hoped for, that thing that you waited for and pretended not to think about and swore you would not accept but really, really wanted, that thing has come and gone and the things that you had put on hold in anticipation now have to be dealt with, you have to take them down and live with them, you cannot ignore them because that thing is here and gone and now it is up to you. It is not going to happen. It is not going to fucking happen.
You are calling, pick up the fucking phone.
someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar
we'll have it good
we'll have the life we knew we would
my word is good
(Q) is divorced from her husband. She is an amazing, incredible girl. You meet them sometimes, you know. Those girls. And you wonder how they got that way, how anyone can be so fantastic and still be here, and here enough to be perfectly normal and cool and rad. And two minutes after meeting her you forget how beautiful and funny and kind she is, because quickly she is simply (Q). But if you were on the trolley she would not be (Q), she would be holy shit who is that girl and where are they making them? And she had a great husband, as great as her.
She used to sit on the floor in my living room and nurse her baby. And then she would stand on the porch of my house and watch her swing. And then she was sitting in my car and talking about the divorce, which was coming and coming rather suddenly. She had had a dinner. Not a liquor and dancing dinner, but a cocktails and Scrabble dinner. That's more her speed anyway. She invited the neighbors who had just moved in and she was very excited about them because they are a married couple the same age as (Q) and her husband (may he rot in hell) and they did not have any couple friends of their own, it was always (Q) and us or him and his friends or a bunch of us together but never (Q) and her husband and another couple, and those things are fun, and those things are important. So she was excited. And they were friendly and cool, and she invited them to her home because yay.
So the neighbor's husband was in the bathroom or had gone home to get something, she does not know, but (Q) went in to the kitchen to make some drinks. Five minutes? Two minutes? The rest of your life? She came out and her husband was having sex with the neighbor's wife. She said he didn't stop when she came out, but finished, then got up, walked past her, and went to the back yard and peed in a bush. This is what makes her think that the husband was in the bathroom, because why is he peeing on a bush? I guess the bathroom is occupied. These are the things you fixate on. The bathroom. The bathroom.
So very quickly a divorce is coming. In the meantime she does not want to live in this fucking house. She takes their girl and moves out, and the neighbor's wife moves in because there is a divorce coming very quickly for them as well. So (Q) moves out, but there is still the baby and visitation and necessary communication. And every once in a while her phone will ring and it is the neighbor's wife, because arrangements need to be made to pick up the baby and he is too busy or too dick or too something, because what kind of fucking asshole would have the neighbor's wife call to arrange this? That is another long, long rant, but meanwhile, (Q)'s phone rings and it is the neighbor's wife. And here is the thing. (Q) has moved out, but has not managed to take care of details yet. So the phone rings and on the other end of the line is this woman that (Q) was so excited about, that (Q) had visions of friendship and babysitting and birthday parties with, this woman that came into (Q)'s home and helped to destroy it and is now living in it with (Q)'s not so fabulous husband. This woman is calling (Q), but because she is calling from (Q)'s own living room, when (Q) looks at the phone it says "(Q) calling". Her own name. Get the phone, it's you. And this is the only time that she loses it, when she talks about this. Seeing her own name come up on her caller ID.
It really is the little things.
And sometimes, these times, when I am feeling particularly vicious or wronged or just fucking insane about what is going on right now, (Q) comes back to me. Even though I have not seen her in a really, really long time. And even though we were not super close friends, but close enough that when everything went wrong in my own life, she came and she shared and she understood and she took some of it, and still, amazing and good and awesome. And this is not one of those situations where I go It is not so bad because someone always has it worse, because that is fucking ridiculous. If your arm is cut off it does not stop hurting simply because someone's arm AND leg are cut off. No. But I think about this now and then, because I go, you really do just do what you have to do. You really do just pick it up and keep it up and stop fucking crying about it at some point, and sometimes it is necessary for that point to come sooner than you think. What are you going to do? Your life is not going the way you thought it would. Nothing is going as planned. The dreams you had are gone and the people you love are monsters and the life you had is over, what the fuck are you going to do now?
What are you going to do now, self? That thing that you hoped for, that thing that you waited for and pretended not to think about and swore you would not accept but really, really wanted, that thing has come and gone and the things that you had put on hold in anticipation now have to be dealt with, you have to take them down and live with them, you cannot ignore them because that thing is here and gone and now it is up to you. It is not going to happen. It is not going to fucking happen.
You are calling, pick up the fucking phone.
posted by machine central at 10:37 AM
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