Monday, July 9, 2012

The Spanish Word For Aunt, Epilogue

Some stupid life threatening illness made good on its threat last Tuesday. My head has been spinning since I found out. We hadn't seen each other since I found out about The Comedian four months ago (which wrecked me at the time, though with distance and perspective, I can't see things happening any other way), but the memories of a sweet, funny, endearing, and happy-despite-hardship young woman came flooding back immediately. I miss her now, more than I did when we broke up. She made a name (literally) for herself and built a career out of being a sexy badass clown (I know, one of these things is not like the other- she made it work), but I never knew that side of her, that other person she called Hollie. I just knew Tia, from Kansas City. 

Addicts

Robert Palmer was sort of right about being addicted to love. If he was actually addicted to it, that's one thing- people can be addicted to all sorts of things, and that's not in question, so he was completely right. What I'm very ineloquently getting at, is that love should be a functional addiction. If you're with someone, and can go cold turkey for a week, guess what? You're not actually with someone. My Favorite Nancy once told me that I needed a woman who pines for me. I understood what she meant at the time, but now I feel what she meant. There has to be a certain level of addiction, the urge to get a fix at regular intervals. If you can't be together, you need to hear each other's voices. If you can't talk, then a text, or an IM, or a chat, or even a poke on Facebook (well... maybe not a poke). 
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San Francrisco, CA, United States