Lovely lovely Summer and lovely lovely George Martin...

My sweetheart, soon after I met her, the second week of rehearsal, I think, after one of our first conversations, once she knew I liked the Beatles, brought me the entire Beatles Anthology (in a plastic Andronico's carrier bag, I believe) the next day on indefinite lend. If you only saw The Anthology on US TV, you have not seen it at all. In the same way that Capitol fucked up their first 5 records by editing and re-sequencing them, ABC cut, edited and jammed it all into 3 "episodes". The Anthology, as conceived and created by George, Paul, Ringo, Yoko and Neil Aspinall, is a series of 8 perfect hourish-long short films covering a specific period of the band's career. The first time I saw it in my modest Magic Theatre-subsidized basement apartment in Bernal Heights it was a revelation.

So, anyway... last week I decided to splurge and buy myself a copy. It arrived yesterday and I'm watching the first disc again now. It reminds me so much of Summer and our earliest days together, falling in love. It's all great. But a moment passed just now that I had to write about. It's at the end of Part 2. The band is in Paris for the first time. The gigs are not going over well. They stump back to the hotel, decamping grumpily to the bar. Then news comes via telegram that "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" has just topped the charts in the US. The film cuts back and forth between people's memories of that moment. They come to lovely, lovely George Martin and he says:

" ... And Brian rang me about half-past one in the morning. He said "I know you won't mind being woken up". I said, well I wasn't asleep, anyway. He said, Well, we've just heard from America... we're number one!" (leaning back in his studio chair, huge intake of breath, the guileless smile of an 8 year old child coming over the face of a kindly 70 year old man, remembering) Fantastic! He said, "Do you want to come round?". Not 'alf! So, I came round and we had a great... drink up. It was lovely. Super. We never went to bed that night..." 

Thank you lovely, George Martin. Thank you, lovely lovely Summer sweetheart.

Summer was cool- she had amazing style, great taste, ask anyone- but she didn't play it cool, she didn't play fucking games. She was a thousand percent up front and full on. She didn't withhold, she didn't passive-aggressively disappear into silence. She would be up three timezones away as I hopped  a cross-continental flight at dawn. Waiting to board at JFK to be by her side, she would text me, every time. "How are you, baby?! On your way yet?! I can't sleep- too excited! Can't wait to kiss you!!" Every time. This is one of the thousand things I must say to try and explain who this incredible woman was. How completely she loved me. And how I ache and always will until I may once again be in her arms...

No Show...

Somehow today in the midst of the tragedy in CT, I had a thought. The first was from the West Wing - "the streets of Heaven are too crowded with angels". Summer gave me The West Wing. Summer gave me everything. And somehow, wandering the streets today I remembered that I haven’t been to a show, haven;t seen a band, outside of our own gigs, since Summer died. The last one was here in NYC, her last visit, when we saw Broken Social Scene together. I had tix for Low in Phiily on my birthday that year but I wound up speaking at her memorial instead. Her eulogy on my birthday. Life is hard to fathom. I know today brings that to light for many. I already know. And I believe one needs faith combined with science (energy: read soul, read who we are -once created, cannot be destroyed). We can’t know now, cannot yet know, what we will find after death. But faith, faith, faith. Oh, my sweetheart - love you forever.

To my sweetheart...

Little sweetheart, pretty little girl – I miss you so.

The record is almost ready to go. Finally! The smaller insert posters will finally be here tomorrow and everything will be ready to go out on Tuesday. The large ones will arrive and the digital version will be online by the end of the week. Friday after next, we play our first gig without you. We’ll play all these songs, the whole double-record for you. In sequence. Twice! It’s our night. We don’t have to do the shorter club set.

Eva is our new bassist. You’d be friends, little sweetie. She’s a NoCal girl, too. Serious and fun and nice and really good. She’s also, like Sean, a whiz with graphics. She’s helping us with that now, too. And I had a meeting with her tonight. She’s such a trouper. The weather is changing now and everybody is getting sick. Eva got felled by whatever the hell this thing is (and we had to cancel a mini-show here on Saturday. Our sorta “warm-up”), we’ll be fine. She could totally use a prescription from your Dad but she’s stubborn (sound familiar?) and wants to sweat it out on over-the-counter stuff (I grabbed an order for her at CVS) and tea. I did say she’s from Cali, right?

Anyway, we did good work tonight. She walked me through a buncha stuff so I can do an e-blast and we worked up some actual physical postcards for printing that we’ll have to announce the release of Of Love & Loss day after tomorrow and the NYC release party at Zirzamin on October 26. I wanna tell you all about that, too – the guy who booked us, Jack Martin, is fantastic. Such a good man and a terrific guitarist and lost his love, Pandora, just like I lost you, a buncha years ago and so he knows. He’s been moved to play the (instrumental) songs he wrote for her (they were also bandmates & lovers)  for the first time in a decade in support. It’s to honour you, little sweetie. I so wish you were here. More on all that and this beautiful room that you would love to sing in.

But what I wanted to say tonight is that while I was at Eva’s and she was uploading files, I showed her a couple of videos of you. The record and our practice space (my apartment, the holy place I shared with you) are filled with pictures. Your voice is predominant on the record. But she had never seen you in “motion”, as it were. I showed her the video of you playing “Blue Blurry Eyes” and the one of you driving the dune buggy on July 4 on the Oregon Coast. I loved watching it, of course, but kept working. About 20 minutes later and looking at all our graphics, maybe because we’re days away, maybe because it’s always with me, I burst into, not just tears, but horrible sobs. You would be so glad that Eva was so kind and held me, tried to comfort me. She’s such a good person. You would be pals. And so good together in the band. After I kinda collected myself, however selfish, it seemed like a good time to read the speech I wrote for your memorial. I carry it with me everywhere and always. It’s still impossible and somehow perfect that it was held on my birthday. On a day that more than any other I should have been able to hold you. Oh my, girl…

I’m trying the best that I can, little sweetie. I miss you so much. I can almost touch our life, it’s still so familiar. I only wanna wake up and be with you. Oh, sweetheart!

I packed up my stuff and walked back west. Listened to the Giants rally but lose. Texted your Dad. Worked online.

All my life, whatever remains, is for you, trying to return to you, preparing myself. Help me, if you can, okay? Remember when we were together and you would shift your hips, headed for the kitchen or just anywhere only for an instant? Remember that I would always say “don’t go too far away?” Remember that, my little sweetheart? My True Love. My Best Friend. Please, sweetheart – don’t go too far away!

My “epiphany” in therapy last week was a religious one – I need to invite you to be with me always. I say it at your grave whenever I visit. I know you are everywhere. That you only alight there when I arrive to meet me. It’s always so hard to leave. I can only do it begging you to come with me. I know you do. I just have to be mindful, always make sure you come along, invite you. Be with me, Summer. Always. And soon I will cross over. Until that day. Until that day…

The Magical Everyday

Was remembering two things about Summer just now that made my heart glow and simultaneously ache for her. First, how she would call out to me from another room, generally sprawled belly down, legs scissoring the air, typing something, an email, probably, on her AirBook and asking me how to spell something. Loved that. Makes me smile. And secondly, very early on when we first got together how she planted a dozen tiny kisses on my neck, high up near the top of my jaw line and then brought her eyes in close to mine and said, “Isn’t that nice? Do you like that?”. And it was. Very nice. And, it was, of course, also her way of telling me that this is exactly what she would like me to do her. So, I immediately did, of course, and immediately found that she was wildly ticklish in that exact spot, squirming and shrieking with delight and torture as I planted a thousand kisses somewhat relentlessly and entirely worshipfully. Both of these things that I think of just now used to simply be part of my everyday life. Spellcheck and ticklish neck kissing duties among a thousand tasks cheerfully, gratefully performed for and with my Miracle Girl. What a beautiful, magical thing to have that just be one’s everyday. Oh, how I miss you, my little sweetheart. How terribly I miss you, my gorgeous girl. But someday, right? Someday soon. Love you forever….

Home...

Summer wanted me to have, of all things at my Mom's, an enormous red couch and its two hassocks, thinking maybe there was room in my apartment somehow. I think it would've had to have been craned in, the way they used to get pianos into urban dwellings and even then a window would probably have been needed to be cut larger. Once inside, it would've taken up the entire floor space of the largest room, the front room, of my rent-stabilised, railroad hovel. Everything else here would've had to have been mounted on the walls to make room. Her feet, our feet, would never have touched the floor, and entering this room, one would have ascended onto the higher red cushioned level, a foot ladder probably necessary. It is doubtless a testament to my adoration for her that I was seriously considering trying to work this all out and move this ginormous piece of home furnishing 600 miles across the country simply because it would please her to have it in our home. And that is why. I loved- and still do - having her things around me. I loved, I lived for her making this her home. I knew, I know, that my home was only and will always be simply with her. 

Emotional morning after a moody sad night. Walked into town. About an hour's journey on foot. Crossed the road at one point because I could see what I thought was a big dog in the yard ahead. Got closer and discovered it was was a grazing deer. Saw a butterfly near the centre line. Rescued it to a log near the shoulder. Crossed the bridge into town. Looked around. Found, incredibly, a necklace that said "Summer". I mean you expect to see ones that read "Jane" or "Cathy" but... why was that there when I looked? Bought it. Wandered through the faux Bavarian village. Clock stores and bookstores and Christmas ornament stores and jewelry stores and salt water taffy. Finally about time to eat. Bratwurst everywhere but what I really wanted was just a tuna sandwich and a beer. No chance.  Last place I looked, equally Germanic -called Gustavs for fucksake - had just that. Albacore tuna salad on rye, 22 oz locally brewed IPA on tap. Potato salad and a fresh pickle on the side. Perfect. How did that happen? Downloaded the Marshall Crenshaw song I heard the other day in the grocery store with Summer's dad that made me cry. Decided to go back across the street and get another necklace for Summer's mom. Walking there, as I approach, hear one of Summer's favourite songs, MGMT's "Time to Pretend" coming out of speakers nearby.  Meant to be. Get the second necklace and walk back to the festival site listening to the Crenshaw and the first disc of "OF LOVE & LOSS". Quick shower and into evening rehearsal. The cast working so hard and having fun. Our terrific director. Our devoted stage manager. The lovely festival staff. So grateful to be here. Know so very well that my girl, my love, my Summer was with me all day - helping me, showing me, encouraging me. Making sure I know she's keeping as close as she can, letting me know she just wants me to use the time I have left here well, just letting me know I'll be with her again very soon, just have to finish up my work here the way I'm supposed to and how she'd want. Thank you sweetheart. Love you forever.