He was singing “Why Don't We get Drunk and Screw” and I started dancing with him right up there at the microphone. He was wild and absolutely hysterical. He had natural bright red hair, full sleeve tattoos, and he was covered in freckles from head to toe. I always thought he resembled a certain famous rock star. His name was Ziggy. I was on call that night. I got a call to do a show near by so, I intended to come back before last call. Ziggy asked me for my number, and I wasn't sure, so I said if he was there when I got back, then I would give it to him. I returned and he was waiting for me. He became my first rock and roll boyfriend. We frequented the Fog Bank, Boccis Cellar, the Garage and he also was my bouncer on many occasions. He was little like a cartoon character, he was great at shows but, I swear sometimes he thought he was the one putting on the performance. He had been straight edge his whole life until the age of 25. Which was right before I met him. He was extremely charismatic at exuded confidence and was sharp as a tack. He introduced me to Shiloh, the friend of mine that met Garp and I at the Watering Hole, a year or so later. Ziggy loved Hot Cinnamon toasts too. He was a professional BMX rider and lived in Feton, with the owner of the company that sponsored him. We would go to Monty’s log Cabin, get absolutely hammered, then go to Safeway to get more. His studio was dark and damp. It always smelled musty, and like incense. My first recallable significant black out was in that studio. He started shooting speed somewhere during the course of our relationship. I can never get over, how oblivious I was to the effects of that behavior. I still slept with him and didn't think twice about it until he was well into his addiction. He started asking Shiloh to get him needles, where she worked but she wouldn’t do it. He never did it in front of me, but I had no idea how dangerous that was at the time. I think I loved him. I wrote a song about him. He ended up moving down to San Diego and I never heard from him again.
I met Garp a year later. And just like Ziggy, I could see that Garp wanted me at an arms length. One conversation between us, took place in my bed where he told me that typically girls who went out with him and his friends were just ”slumming it” and they would wise up sooner or later. I tried to tell him that whether I liked it or not I was completely into him.
He got into some ridiculous fight where he and a friend of his were trying to knock each other of their barstools at the Blue, or so he told me, and he broke his leg. Three days later one of his friends practically kidnapped him, to bring him to the doctor. The day they put him in his cast, he invited me to see his band practice at some storage facility on the westside. I went, and when he could barely stand up from all the vicodin and booze in his system, I took him home to my house. He passed out in my car and when we got home, I had to carry him inside. Looking at him in this state made me uneasy. I kept checking to make sure he was still breathing. He woke up in the middle of the night and was shaking pretty badly. He asked me if we had any alcohol in the house. Jim had a small stash, that had probably been packed, moved and unpacked 5 times by now. I went into the kitchen and brought Garp back a bottle, of god knows what. When that one was done, I retrieved another and we went back to sleep. The next morning after he left I found both bottles empty. I knew that what he had going on, was a little more than a party.
January 26, 2011
Dear Garp,
This is truly the best gift. I may not ever fully let go of you or what you mean to me whether fantasized or real. I wish you the very best. I look back at those times when we were young, and crazy. I had so much pain around breaking away from you. With all that has happened I sometimes get over whelmed. I mean its enough to write a book for god sakes. Maybe I’m grieving myself. Reliving all this stuff is like unraveling a ball of twine, I’m finding it hard to stop. I need a witness, if I get it down on paper maybe god will see it. And help the universe see that I’m still here, and I still need help and mercy. For so long, I tried to do it on my own. Lonely afraid, rejected by those around me who were never really available anyway. I realize now, that I too was unavailable.
love,
Anahata
I knew that he had a date with some other girl that night and I was on call anyway. I was feeling lonely and defeated and just wanted to get a drink, maybe, go out somewhere, I thought maybe I could convince his housemate to go with me. I went to the house, and his housemate said he wasn't up for it. I ended up calling Garp, asking him when he would be home, and he seemed a little surprised that I was asking such a question. I started to get the feeling I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was so embarrassed. I felt like he now saw how lonely and pathetic I really was. I went home. I had already had a bottle of wine when the phone rang. A couple somewhere over the hill called for a show. I couldn’t drive so Jim came with me as my driver and bouncer. He would have had to pry my glass of wine out of my hand, but I made into the car before he could get to it, and finished it there. I told him that I was completely incapacitated to make any good decisions and that he was to do all my thinking for me. We got to the place and it was your run- of- the- mill couple with a mange aux trois fantasy. A whole lotta bartering and checking in with each other, to see if it was what the other had expected. I told Jim to come get me when the time was up. Eventually I felt it had been way to long, and went out to see if I had already gone over time. I had, and he was clueless as far as what I told him about having to be my brain, and I was pompous and completely annoyed. My drinking was starting to bring issues more suited for a therapy session up, and I found it necessary to work these issues out at 2:00 in the morning, when I exhausted and had smoking a whole pack of cigarettes just to stay awake. I mentioned to Jim that if he couldn’t start doing a better job of being my bouncer than I threatened to stop drinking. Which didn’t make whole lot of sense. I began to confess that I felt that there was something inherently wrong with me. I got the sense that my family, my history and my past were these festering demons that were standing in the way of my true happiness. Shortly after that I expired and went to bed.
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