Routine

The alarm of the clock on the wall was set to end each training session after five minutes. 9pm sharp he finished the training and came toward me. I was sitting at the reception area. He touched me from behind the neck and asked if I would like something to drink. He said that the coffee here was good and strong. I said: No thanks. Wait for me I will go shower, he added.

Before he left for the shower he introduced me to the owner of the gym and his partner, then some of his sparring partners. When he came back he asked me if I wanted to visit the gym. I said yes. He told me that he liked the color of the wall, a kind of old pink color. He said he came here every evening, mostly because he is the principal coach but also because this place is his second home.

We left the gym and waited for the bus to come. The night was bright as it was full moon. It was not cold at all for a month of October. We went downtown for a drink. He did not talk a lot this time. Normally when we met each other he seemed happier. He told me not to worry as he was not in good shape. I told him that it was okay, we don’t need to talk a lot. For some reason I did not feel the need to talk a lot either. We had each of us a green tea. We looked at each other in silence. But there was no embarrassment in the silence. For the first time since we have known I asked first if we could leave. The idea of seeing him with a sad face made me even sadder than him. It was 11.30 pm. The last bus would be only in one hour. Usually we stayed until there was no more buses passing by. He said ok and held my hands for less than thirty seconds. We walked slowly to a square where all the buses stop. My bus arrived first. I kissed him very quickly on the cheek and entered the bus. He waved at me and sent me a kiss. I smiled at him and waved back.

Later in the night he wrote to me a private message on Facebook: “I am sorry. Bad mood lately. Always a pleasure to see you…”

I answered him early in the morning: “Don’t be sorry. It was nice seeing you though I never like to see you down…”

Then I opened my blog and wrote again after one year and four months of absence. About him. My inspiration.

Later on during the day I wrote him a long letter. I did not say in the letter how much I still love him. Just how much I care.

Later on that night he sent me a good-night song just like he did every night since one year and four months.

Morning scream in music

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A midnight blue, day and night
I’ve been missing you
I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby
Almost makes me crazy
Come and live with me

Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here
I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near
I wrote you a letter, I tried to make it clear
That you just don’t believe that I’m sincere
I’ve been thinking about you, baby

Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here
I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near

I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby
I want you to live with me

This morning I woke up. Definitely calmer than yesterday. Or at least it was the first impression. As soon as my eyes got the first light of the day from a tiny slit of the shutter, an acute pain squeezed my chest but short, quick pain. I projected myself to the future. Something I have never done for months now. Thinking of the future. The thought of the future. Future that meant to be in five week time. When he will be leaving again. His date of departure has not yet been set. But its certainty is undeniable.

I put on this song of Massive Attack. I just discovered it a few days ago. The song penetrated my skin, soaked into my bones. I felt cold. The voice was groaning and moved me deep. Maybe it was circumstantial but each word was cutting me into pieces. “A midnight blue, day and night I’ve been missing you I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby Almost makes me crazy Come and live with me Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near I want you to live with me “.  I could groan in a same hoarse voice mixed with sobs and tears and nobody could distinguish the sadness of the song or that of my soul.

I felt another round of punches. I squeezed tight my pillow, put it over my stomach and wrapped myself, smothered under the blanket. Acute pain, longer, more insistent. He will go away soon. I stayed in the fetus position, my way to protect myself from suffering. For a long while. I could hear the ticking sound of the alarm clock. Like a count-down. Each ticking seemed to count the days left before he is gone again. Each regular ticking sound mixed with the deep regular moaning sound of the song in perfect harmony, sentencing the end of my happiness. For a short while, I had the feeling that I had flirted with a slow death. The feeling of losing him again. Seeing him going away. Again. Seeing him going in another direction, in another part of the world. In this big world we had crossed paths for a second. Just for a second. I heard myself screaming. I screamed the unfairness of life. Of love. Of everything.

The scream lasted with the last note of the song. I disappeared in my large bed. No more sound suddenly. The room fell into silence. But I could still hear my love for him.

Late night with no moon

Last night I could not find sleep until 3 in the morning. The snow has melted some days ago and so the rain has taken over ever since. It was raining outside the whole evening. I tried to fall asleep ignoring the repetitive sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. My mind wandered. From Thailand to Los Angeles. From one sunny place to another. Where the people whom I care about are right now. My mind wandered back to my place too. People I care about are here too, closer to me. It went on and on like this until very late. I remember in one book Murakami wrote that memories and sensations were usually so uncertain. Memories and sensations to me are so real. As soon as I think of a moment spent with someone who is dear to me, very quickly and spontaneously I can feel with my flesh and blood the prints and sensations of those memories. It always seems like yesterday. Memories and sensations always go hand in hand. I don’t even need to close my eyes to fully remember these moments, the talks, the smiles or the touch. It is always very clear and real to me when I put myself back in memories and pasts.

Yesterday was the same. I could be anywhere. I felt the sand of the beaches. I felt the special light of the day in California. I felt the water of the lakes where I had been last summer. I heard their voices. I heard their laughs. I heard the quiet sound when our days together had come to an end and the days when we were apart.

I could not sleep because all of these memories made me forget the rain outside but kept all my senses awake. Adding to that I let the voice of Audrey Hepburn invading the night, singing “Moon River” to me when I was pretty sure that outside it could be only rain and no moon. Nights like this could bear no moon.

The last laugh

“My shadow is only half of what it should be.”
“Everyone has their shortcomings.” (Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami)

Do I remember your last laugh ?

The sound of it

Always familiar

The rest seems far

Do I want to remember your last laugh ?

The desire of it

Today seems far

I don’t even remember when the last time was my heart beats for you

Bad memory or bad will ?

Today everything seems far

Your last laugh

Certainly beautiful

Crazy, I was crazy for trying…

“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.” (Sputnik Sweetheart – Haruki Murakami)

These few words of Murakami speak for me. The last few days I hardly think. I am not myself. I feel empty but in a good way. With my head empty. It rarely happened to me.  Empty of thoughts and feelings. Empty even of love. I don’t feel anything special at all. Until yesterday night, actually this morning at four in the morning, I could not sleep and went through his blog. One song particularly filled myself with nostalgia, some kind of sadness. Emptiness was replaced with a sensation of loss. His blog was the same as usual, some beautiful songs. Lately I did not check his blog anymore. I think somehow we had lost each other on the way to find building our relationship or friendship. I think somehow I had dropped all efforts to make it work for him and me. But this song “Crazy” sung by Patsy Cline posted on his blog had touched me deeply. It was indeed a painful feeling to lose a friend. Or not to lose a friend but not to be able to find a decent way to connect with him anymore. Some call it life. Some call it incompatibility of moods or personality, or whatever words I try to find to define what was going on between us, it was just superfluous and meaningless. And the distance between us seemed not only distance but also coldness and indifference. Some people are just not made for me and I just need to accept that and let go.

Here is the song that makes me think about our friendship. This friend who is no longer close to me.

“Crazy, I was crazy for trying…”

Crazy, I don’t miss him anymore. These words once written here put me back into emptiness. This friendship, like a flake of snow, so fragile, has very quickly disappeared, hardly one ray of sun had dared to caress it.

The voice of Patsy Cline resonates in my head. But that is all I had kept from this friendship.

Christmas time and friendship

The last few days I was busy but in a positive way. It is always like this near Christmas time. Getting together with some friends whom I had not seen a lot lately. Last Saturday I went out for brunch at noon and only headed home around midnight as during the whole afternoon, I ran into some friends downtown. We ended up Christmas shopping, enjoying mulled wine, listening to kids singing Christmas carols, and also trying some make-ups. Totally unplanned journey but it was more than nice.

These last few days, I communicated a lot with MD, my sweetest friend aka my guardian angel. We tried to find a date to celebrate his birthday which is on the 24th of December. Also I received regularly mails from the man I loved. It is pure happiness in an easy way. His mails arrive telling me his daily life with smiles and jokes, with songs and movies he shares.

Also yesterday a very dear friend of mine from my hometown came in the city for work and we had lunch together. It felt so good to speak to him in French, my mother-tongue language. Gosh, I have missed it. Then another sweet friend asked me if she could come visit me the next weekend. Of course I said yes. In the evening I went to the opera in which a friend of mine sang. Again I ended up having a drink with my friend and some people in the choir and learning a bunch of things about opera singers.

I arrived home very late at night. I actually walked home and enjoyed the streets with no traffic. I realize that these last days I took life as it came. Spontaneously. I was pretty much contemplating life too. Things are easy when we let them come and flow. I realize that I had known a person whom I consider as a friend but who never gives me any access to his life in order to reach a certain level of trust and friendship. When everything goes easily with other people, I just realize that this person finally had resisted me all the way long and whatever I had tried to do to reach out for him and to give substance to our relationship, it seems like throwing salt in the sea. With him, I was facing a big wall.  This is the only person with whom I feel like I am not trusted and I am not liked. When I look at all my other friendships, I realize that I could probably do nothing about this new person/friend.. I cannot force the access. I just have to accept or let it go. But I also realize that there is nothing better than time to know someone. It is not possible to compare a two-month friendship to a 20-year friendship with my best friend or with MD or with the man I love. I know them so well because I had shared and lived so many things with them. Time is precious to friendship.

Anyway I like this period of time around Christmas. I like connecting with old friends again. And taking life easily with lights, Christmas carols, mulled wine and laughs. And letting go people who don’t trust me or don’t want me in their lives. Holding no grudge. Wishing them well anyway.

Keep it simple

We got to get back to something simple just to save yourselves
Well got to get back to something simple just to save yourselves
Well you got to keep it simple, keep it simple just to – and that’s that

Whoa you got to keep it simple nowadays and that’s just that
Whoa you got to keep it simple nowadays and that’s just the way it is
And you got to keep it simple these days ‘cos that’s the way it is

Well you got to keep it, keep it simple and that’s that

Keep it simple

You don’t know when you are coming home

Let’s keep it simple like this song

I don’t know what is next

Let’s keep it simple

Let this love flows

Let this love grows

In spite of all

I don’t know what to do next

I guess I will wait for you

Til you come home or not

Let’s keep it simple

Let’s not change anything

Let’s not change it to a fling

Because this love is my thing

How I understand songs

Today I am sick and stay in bed. Nothing serious. A cold with a strong headache and a bad sore throat.

I accidentally discovered Koos du Plessis, a South African songwriter and singer and really like his songs. There is something with me about songs in a language I could not understand. When we don’t understand the lyrics, we just listen to the sound of each word, we just need to let each note and melody get into us. With no resistance. We can imagine whatever comes to us with the melody. It could be a love song, a song about politics, a song about home and kids. I like the idea that I don’t understand the lyrics. It is like when we meet someone who does not speak our language, we will then have to communicate with this person in a different way, we will have to invent another kind of language, we will observe more. The eyes, the body attitude, anything else would be more important than the language itself and the words. I feel the same with a song I first don’t understand.

I listened to this song three times on the row. It became so familiar that at some point, I was sure I would get the meaning of the song somehow. After the third time, I checked the lyrics.

Live in an endless night, I cried: “Where are you?”
Move your dark curtain open, star, fire me.

I did the same thing with HIM. I don’t always understand him. But I don’t ask questions. I just want to connect with him through a different way. Not always in words. But something we can both feel in the air, between the clouds, in spite of the geographical distance between us. I just want him to become so familiar to me like this song after a while.