I'm jealous of his fame.
The week that Mr. 9 put our relationship on hold to “think things out”
I basically stewed and felt bad.
I was trying to keep a stiff upper lip,
Cause I knew inevitably he would come back to me and everything would be fine,
“Right guys?” (Crickets)
But it was hard not to feel slightly abandoned.
I have a lot of issues with guys leaving without trying to at least work it out.
My biological father did this to my mom when I was 3 and it sort of lives in me in weird ways.
Like when I freaked out on my improv coach for ditching the team.
“It’s just improv man.”
“I know, but I’m crazy.”
I listen to NPR almost every workday.
848 is my favorite show as it discusses the happenings in Chicago and interviews really fun local people.
Steve Edwards, the host, is a real cute button to me.
He seems to be extremely hip and completely square at the same time.
I love him.
I saw him once at Brian Costello’s talk show and he was just as nice, and charming, and awesome as you think he might be.
The week Mr. 9 was taking a break from his duty of me,
I heard him on the radio.
I was listening to 848… and there he was.
Getting interviewed about books in the city and writers and blah, blah, blah.
I felt so out of his loop.
It felt like getting the wind knocked out of me.
I didn’t even know he was gonna be interviewed.
He didn’t tell me.
It’s not the first time Mr. 9 has been interviewed by Steve Edwards.
He was interviewed once before for a website he used to run.
It’s still up, but he’s too lazy to keep it up.
He’ getting interviewed in the paper all the time for a monthly reading that he does and for various amazing projects that he’s involved with in the Chicago area.
He’s basically the darling of the lit scene in Chicago.
It made me so sad that I was not allowed into this awesome part of his life.
And that still really makes me want to cry sometimes.
Because when we get down to it, I’m so super proud of him.
He’s really made a name for himself by being great and doing good work.
And at some point he stopped sharing these victories with me.
I’m not allowed to say to people anymore “I know! Isn’t he amazing? That’s my boyfriend!”
I was his lady.
And his best friend.
And now his best friend is a boy, and they share all their victories with each other.
And not me.
He got good at what he wanted and didn’t have time for me anymore.
I bring this up, because I recently found out that a sketch group I really like is doing Mr. 9’s reading soon.
When I saw this I just got really jealous.
My heart started racing and I could feel my face get all red hot.
I don’t know why this makes me upset.
I’ve been doing really fine lately.
I think it’s because I want a piece of him just like everybody else.
And because I’m not in that cool circle anymore.
And because I don’t want him to have things I like, even though we like a lot of the same things.
I want people to choose sides and always choose mine.
Or I get jealous because he gets accolades so easily and I get down about my own career.
Probably all that stuff.
I think I’m doing good though.
Because in my mind’s eye,
I can see a time, in the future, when I am friends with Mr. 9.
And I see me hanging out with him and hearing about his new girlfriend and all the projects he’s involved in that I don’t get to hear before the world, etc, etc, etc.
I can fathom this happening.
Not now… not soon even… but some time.
There was a time not long ago, when the only thing I could fathom was hate, hate, hate.
For right now, I hope he’s happy, but I don’t want to know about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~’
~Mahalo Kane~
People are computers.
Made of genes.
Tiny, tiny people who are using us to survive.
Unless I get vaporized, my genes and cells will live a little while after my mind dies.
Then they will run out of food and oxygen and poop out.
They trick people into thinking that getting together and having families and babies and big nice houses that are warm with good food is a good idea. To invest in other people is a good idea. They were here before computers and their program that keeps a lot of people together is called love.
If the tiny people were as big as us, love might be called “telephone” or “fraternal orders”
It wouldn’t be called love.
Equations and computers don’t poop.
So they can’t poop where they eat.
I basically stewed and felt bad.
I was trying to keep a stiff upper lip,
Cause I knew inevitably he would come back to me and everything would be fine,
“Right guys?” (Crickets)
But it was hard not to feel slightly abandoned.
I have a lot of issues with guys leaving without trying to at least work it out.
My biological father did this to my mom when I was 3 and it sort of lives in me in weird ways.
Like when I freaked out on my improv coach for ditching the team.
“It’s just improv man.”
“I know, but I’m crazy.”
I listen to NPR almost every workday.
848 is my favorite show as it discusses the happenings in Chicago and interviews really fun local people.
Steve Edwards, the host, is a real cute button to me.
He seems to be extremely hip and completely square at the same time.
I love him.
I saw him once at Brian Costello’s talk show and he was just as nice, and charming, and awesome as you think he might be.
The week Mr. 9 was taking a break from his duty of me,
I heard him on the radio.
I was listening to 848… and there he was.
Getting interviewed about books in the city and writers and blah, blah, blah.
I felt so out of his loop.
It felt like getting the wind knocked out of me.
I didn’t even know he was gonna be interviewed.
He didn’t tell me.
It’s not the first time Mr. 9 has been interviewed by Steve Edwards.
He was interviewed once before for a website he used to run.
It’s still up, but he’s too lazy to keep it up.
He’ getting interviewed in the paper all the time for a monthly reading that he does and for various amazing projects that he’s involved with in the Chicago area.
He’s basically the darling of the lit scene in Chicago.
It made me so sad that I was not allowed into this awesome part of his life.
And that still really makes me want to cry sometimes.
Because when we get down to it, I’m so super proud of him.
He’s really made a name for himself by being great and doing good work.
And at some point he stopped sharing these victories with me.
I’m not allowed to say to people anymore “I know! Isn’t he amazing? That’s my boyfriend!”
I was his lady.
And his best friend.
And now his best friend is a boy, and they share all their victories with each other.
And not me.
He got good at what he wanted and didn’t have time for me anymore.
I bring this up, because I recently found out that a sketch group I really like is doing Mr. 9’s reading soon.
When I saw this I just got really jealous.
My heart started racing and I could feel my face get all red hot.
I don’t know why this makes me upset.
I’ve been doing really fine lately.
I think it’s because I want a piece of him just like everybody else.
And because I’m not in that cool circle anymore.
And because I don’t want him to have things I like, even though we like a lot of the same things.
I want people to choose sides and always choose mine.
Or I get jealous because he gets accolades so easily and I get down about my own career.
Probably all that stuff.
I think I’m doing good though.
Because in my mind’s eye,
I can see a time, in the future, when I am friends with Mr. 9.
And I see me hanging out with him and hearing about his new girlfriend and all the projects he’s involved in that I don’t get to hear before the world, etc, etc, etc.
I can fathom this happening.
Not now… not soon even… but some time.
There was a time not long ago, when the only thing I could fathom was hate, hate, hate.
For right now, I hope he’s happy, but I don’t want to know about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~’
~Mahalo Kane~
People are computers.
Made of genes.
Tiny, tiny people who are using us to survive.
Unless I get vaporized, my genes and cells will live a little while after my mind dies.
Then they will run out of food and oxygen and poop out.
They trick people into thinking that getting together and having families and babies and big nice houses that are warm with good food is a good idea. To invest in other people is a good idea. They were here before computers and their program that keeps a lot of people together is called love.
If the tiny people were as big as us, love might be called “telephone” or “fraternal orders”
It wouldn’t be called love.
Equations and computers don’t poop.
So they can’t poop where they eat.
posted by chitownladym77 at 11:16 AM
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