January 8, 2009

I’ve gotta go pick up Jon and T at the airport in a few minutes, so this will be quick, Asshole. 

Santa said the connections I’m making between Jen and everything around me is normal.  Even the fact that it’s pissing me off is the “right thing”.  Whatever.   At least I’m not losing my fucking mind yet.

So Jon and T.  They’re done with their holiday stuff, and are going to spend a few weeks with me, help me get through the stuff I need to get through, like sending Jen’s things away.  Maybe T can go pull some stuff out for me.  I don’t want Jon touching her shit.  I don’t know why, but another guy just should not be touching all the stuff that smells like Jen. 

T can do that, though.  She’s, well, a ‘she’ and she and Jen were tight.  If it can’t be one of her friends-from-home, it should be T. Hell, T shut down her board when Jen… after the accident.  She loved Jen like I did.  Well, not exactly like I did.  She can help me out with the truck.  I know she can.

Jon also thinks his girl can get me out of my house and into the studio, because she’s “a force of nature unto herself”.  I’m not so sure about that.  I’m pretty mule-headed when I want to be.  I don’t hear the music yet, and you can’t force it or you get shit.  And shit is worse than nothing.  Been there, done that.  I’d just get more depressed if I tried to do something that comes as natural as breathing, and couldn’t.  So, no studio for this hump.  Not yet. 

Besides, the bike arrived today, and I’m too damned distracted.  I totally forgot it was coming, and I don’t know how the delivery hung up, but Jen’s Harley is now sitting in my garage.  Someday I’ll ride it; throw a leg across and open her up full throttle along the 405.  But for now, I can’t even look at it.

I remember riding behind Jen on it, guitar strapped to my back as I held tight around her waist.  I could feel her heartbeat with mine (fucking Journey again.  Stupid Open Arms.  Did I mention I also hate the 80’s channel?)

Will the pain go away?