Now, It's always Now

Been dreaming about Greg again. Been listening to his mix tapes and watching the seasons change and wandering around those spaces in my heart that stay charred and echoing, even after almost 5 years.

The tapes are from when I lived in New York and Greg would mail them. They have titles like "Flapper Max," "Uptown Girl," and "The Girl from New York City." Today I was working in my classroom and the song "Al Di La" by Jerry Vale came on the tape, and I put my head down on my desk and cried.

See, I've been trying to get my life in line for some time now. I keep hearing that I'll be happiest in the now, but if every single second is a new now, how the fuck can I stay there? Is now the end of everything that isn't right now? Is now the yellow line whipping down the center of the highway at night, each instant gone before you can register that it's there? How am I supposed to keep track of my dead dad in a now that's constantly on the move? 

Or is now more like the top layer of a papier-mâché globe? Every instant building on another, every memory  below giving my current moment strength and weight? I'm starting to think the only way for me to stay in the now is to acknowledge the always, to let my memories come when they will come, to dream my dreams as they dance behind my eyelids. 

Now is walking to my car in Ventura past Baskin Robbins, and also walking down Broadway  past Westside Market. Now is sitting on  a gray couch by a California picture window with two gray boycats in my lap, thinking about laying on a wood floor in a 5th floor walk up with a calico kitty purring on my chest.

Burying my face in my dad's black leather jacket on a cold night in Los Angeles; burying my face in my man's leather jacket on a cold night in Monterey; which one is now? Time overlaps and fragments and swirls around me. The now is that my face feels good against the leather, which smells good in my nose, and there are hands in my hair and I feel safe. Both moments are true at the same time, and I embrace the cacophony. 

I would like to gently set aside my pain; I'm ready. Being genuine means not relegating my past to some obscure corner. Whenever I want Greg to be a resident of now, there he is in dreams and wanderings. When that's not good enough because I want him actually really here- Now, goddamnit! - now is the experience of that resentment and loneliness as it passes through me and then dissipates. I don't have to forget everything else in order to stay in this moment. I have to remember to let every joyous wild crushing melancholy tranquil feeling/memory/experience wash over me as they come.....and go when they're through. 

The reason I love those cassettes so much is because of the hiss between the songs. In those few seconds Greg is right there in his own now, finger over the button, eyes staring off into space as he listens and gets ready to pause. And I'm right there with him. Now. 

Jerry Vale singing "Al Di La"