Archive for May 2014

jacob


Long gone are the days of flooded parks and tragic seventeen year old love, of chaste touches that burned and a maddeningly beautiful tortured lost poet boy. Those days, everything hurt and nothing seemed possible except for the inevitable break. All the beautiful words in the world could do nothing for us.

I'm older now and since then, I've left behind our home and wandered the world, which turned out to be far more wonderful and terrible than I could've ever imagined.

Here, I found you.

There are many names for this place, but none of them really matter when we are here existing at the same time.

There's a Gabriel Garcia Marquez quote that I ripped that off from but you know that already.

Tell me to describe my perfect man and he would look nothing like you. You're shorter than me, wear briefs rather than boxers, prefer boring white people food and classic rock, have the smallest apartment I've seen in my life, have a stupid mustache, and you aren't actually as good at piano as you think you are.

But you clean my kitchen for me after I cook, and you pick me up from class at Madeleine and put up with my scattered brain, my annoying friends, my various neuroses. You're kind and self reliant and funny and just cautious enough to keep me out of trouble, but still adventure with me. You play music and sing for me and you hold me tight when I cry and God, the sight of a slant of sun is resting on your bare back is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life and I love you.

the submarine

Deep underground in a pit filled with developer and fixer, Jana and I found each other. 

We were both studying abroad in Paris this past semester, taking classes at the same crazy photography studio near Bastille. It was a strange little place run by an old man called Philippe. There was too much English, occasional homemade cookies and cakes waiting for us, two full studios, a shy cat, and, underneath a trapdoor on the floor of the second studio, a cramped darkroom where Jana and I worked once a week. 

The "submarine", as Philippe affectionately nicknamed the darkroom, was barely wide enough to fit the two of us sometimes, but twice as long as it was wide. I would hit my head coming out of the hatch and I've definitely fallen down the stairs before coming in and out. The wash bath was constantly swirling with dozens of near identical prints, mostly Jana's fault. The chemical baths were of questionable concentrations, mostly my fault. Poorly ventilated. Steep, almost ladder-like stairs. A radio that had terrible reception. And there definitely was no lightproof barrier against the outside world. 

But that place became ours over the course of the semester, quand meme

We spent endless hours in that darkroom together. We talked about living in Paris and being away from home. We texted each other endlessly as we constantly botched social interactions in French. We talked about Adam and David, Jacob and Hunter. We took necessary near hourly escapes to get bakery snacks near St Paul and hide from Philippe, who would descend into our refuge every once in a while to meddle and drive us insame. I might have fainted once. Jana was always incredibly neurotic. I only ever played my music. She would get irritable when not properly fed. Despite it all, we became each other's lifeline through everything. Both of us were falling in love with the city and with a man at the same time. And without even realizing it, each other.