It Was All For You – But It Was For Me Too

Let’s try and reset the clock and think of the good things.

Before I start that – thank you to Sage, who commented on a previous post with some rather apt – as her name suggests – sage words.

I’d like to think I am intelligent enough, and I know what needs to be done but I am obviously very emotionally stunted. So, I can have all the analytical, rational and lateral intelligence in all the world but if I can’t keep my emotions in check, or I struggle to rationalise my emotional wellbeing, that’s when it all falls apart.

I will post below here what Sage has written to me. They are words I know are true and right. I wish I had the emotional intelligence and resolve I need right now.

I need to apologise to Jim.

For one final time I am going to try to explain this as best I can. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to explain this, I just do. Maybe somehow to just rationalise it for myself as much as anything? I don’t know.

I hate for it to be misconstrued that I am IN LOVE with Jim and that I wish to be with him. IT IS NOT THAT! It really is not that! I do love him, yes. But it is a love of adulation, not of lust or desire (and lust and desire isn’t love anyway). Any notion like that is tied up with Jim in the past. The young Jim. The 22/23 year old Jim that I confess to being visually and aesthetically drawn to.

It is not how I feel about the Jim of the present. The Jim of the present is more where the emotions lay. It’s a romantic love, but not in a way that means I wish to be with him. I will never claim to know him. I don’t. And I never will. That’s the bitter pill. That’s the thing that causes the pain. That I would like to actually know him and have him be fond of me and see me as a dear friend. A friend. Nothing more! Not a lover. Not a girlfriend. Just someone that he would like to talk to on occasion. Someone who he’d think of during the day, pondering “I wonder how she’s doing? I hope she’s okay?” and then would get in contact to see how I was. That’s it.

But I am aware that even that is A LOT. That it’s a lot to ask and I can wish for that as much as I like but if he doesn’t feel that way, if there is no element of him liking me or trusting me or wanting to allow me in, then…it can’t be forced. I can wish for it all I like – until I make myself sick with it.

I am sorry, Jim, if it seemed or felt as though I was endlessly making demands of you. My naivety in thinking that positivity between us would have us feed each other. But it can’t work like that when only one person is providing the positivity. And I guess you have given me plenty of explanations as to why you are where you are and I am where I am.

You radiate light and warm, generosity and humour, wit and charm. You’re articulate and a lot of the time erudite. But maybe that is all public persona? I never felt that it was. One can only act for so long.

I am just me. Just one person. Just one fan in… how many fans? How many people wanting your attention? Wanting – and I hate this term, but I guess it applies – a piece of you? And you as one man, JUST “a man” (as several people like to remind me time and again), can only spread yourself so far.

I started typing out this post downstairs in the dining area of the living room, but I have now moved upstairs to my bedroom. The little bit of “office” area of my bedroom. Where I am hoping to keep looking after this blog. I look up just over and above the screen of my PC and this is what I see.

Sunshine. He is sunshine. He just radiates it. Warmth and beauty. And I just want to bask in it – constantly! I want to bask in the glow of him. And that should be enough. To look at the beauty of him. To bask in the sunshine of him. For it to be what it was when I wrote this that follows…

“…You are tantalisingly tangible
Yet I don’t really know who you are.

I find you intoxicating
And will be happy
Spending all the rest of my days
Drinking you in from afar.”

I need to find that place again. The place in which I never made demands. The place before Hunter And The Hunted. The place before he knew my name. Knew who I was. Knew what a stupid, pathetic creature I am.

I need to stop beating myself up. And I need to stop wanting him to be things he can’t be.

Right about this time seven years ago I’d be making those tentative steps again (after trying in 2006 and it not really going anywhere) to try and get a handle on the Simple Minds back catalogue. Listening to Life In A Day. It really was a slow burn (“stay – I’m burning slow”) but of the handful of songs that seeped their way in…the first to take hold was All For You. I loved the guitar riff. It’s a rather more “traditional rock” piece from them, with a standard verse/chorus song structure, which is actually fairly unusual for Jim to write that way during those early years. I love the backing vocals also. His voice is a higher register at that point but I find it soft and sultry on that song.

It was the seed that germinated what I was to become as a Simple Minds fan.

I wish I could start again. Wipe the slate clean. Not get so…invested in it. Perhaps have stayed away from going anywhere near the band’s Facebook page? Oh, but had I done that? Well, I wouldn’t have met the beautiful people I have met. I wouldn’t have some of the friends I have now. Including the one whose pictures of “Mr Sunshine” are on the wall just above.

And I wouldn’t have the good and wonderful and happy memories I have of Jim. Perhaps for a time he actually DID like me? He made a fuss enough. But was it actually of me? Of Larelle, or just “the new fan”. That I was just an object of curiosity and intrigue for a time until I shared everything about myself and there was no intrigue left. No “enigma”.

And…I do this too. I do this far too much. I overanylise and “overthink”. I read too much into things and I put into them a degree of importance that just doesn’t exist, or only exists for me alone.

But I feel like Jim gave me a strength. He gave me a strength and a belief in myself that I had never had. And the things it allowed me to do no doubt seem minuscule to many, but for me they were momentous and profound. And I loved him for it. I loved him for freeing me from the things I felt restricted by.

But I guess it has come full circle and now I feel somewhat imprisoned by those feelings that at one time felt so freeing and liberating. Because I keep craving those things.

He has NEVER bored me. He has never made me tired and he has never stopped being a curiosity to me.

I live in hope that my awareness of my emotional stupidity is the thing that sees me through it. But I also fear a feeling of a loss. That I need to walk away from it all. That before I drown, I should try and get myself out of the water. Instead of just praying he’ll reach out to me with a hand, with a fingertip to say “I won’t let you drown.”

It’s like… I want permission. I want permission to love him. I want to know that it’s okay that I do. And that he doesn’t see me as odd or strange, or thinks I’m weird or an idiot, or worst of all – pities me. That he understands. That he cares that I care! But how can I expect that of him?

I don’t know where I go from here. I feel I should talk about it because… because supposedly it helps to talk? I worry about “exposing” myself.

I don’t know how to end this post.

The Bitter End?

Oh, man. It stings again.

I don’t ever remember feeling this way before – or at least not for a very long time. A discussion of friends in his latest post and … it just has me wishing again. To be one. DEEMED one. (A friend.) You know…the more you want something. Lol

There are always these questions that start. “The people he feels closest to – Charlie, his ‘girlfriend’ (partner, missus, Other Half…whatever he seems most comfortable with acknowledging her as) – they have piqued his interest and kept him around for the longest time – HOW DO THEY DO IT?! WHAT’S THE SECRET? Honestly. I keep asking this. It’s a question I never dared air in public before today but I wonder…eternally! Is it really because neither of them are … “needy”? But then…doesn’t that make HIM the “needy” one?

I read an article once in which he said that he sends Charlie several emails a day and Charlie never replies. Lol – perhaps another one of Jim’s “embellishments”? Who knows?

The next thing I do is to wonder what happened. With me, personally. Did I bore him? Did I piss him off somewhere along the line? And when? What was it? I still keep account of it as some….affirmation that…it’s okay. He still likes me, I haven’t bored him. He’s not pissed off, etc, etc. April and “Jalopy”. Nothing since then. The odd ‘like’ to a comment. But even those don’t seem to be happening now.

I’ve even given up on posting to the FB visitor wall. There’d be interaction that would go on there too, for a time. But that soon died also. It’s how it all began, really. Hunter And The Hunted was posted there.

You know, the thing is…maybe *I’d* get bored. Lol. If there was somehow some interaction or correspondence with him on a regular basis. I might get bored. Lol. AS IF! I mean…THIS IS THE WHOLE POINT. I felt I had…SOMETHING. That we “talked” in a manner of speaking.

I loved those interactions SO MUCH. Just us having the odd Bowie talk or there’d be something about a SM song or some other piece of music. And it would be talked about between us. All public. I didn’t care! Just to feel like we were talking. It was wonderful.

And then I absolutely fell to pieces in July, 2018 – that whole “real fans” bollocks. I thought it was beyond repair. That he just HATED me and I was gutted. At least that was quick severance. Cut off the limb! Try to stem the flow of blood quickly and in time it’ll repair and heal.

But then it seemed okay. I was allowed back on SMO (as it was then) and then I had my meet and greet – and he joked with me! Well, I kept hoping it was a joke. In reality *I am the joke*.

I really wish I could pretend I don’t care. Or actually DIDN’T care! But if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this kind of shit out, would I?

The last time I remember feeling this way is…when I was around 16. I was keen on this guy and I just wanted him so bad. His sister lived across the road. (She was 7 or 8 years older than him so she was living with her boyfriend who was our neighbour so…B, we shall call him, lived several streets away. Still what was deemed to be in the same suburb – Busby). I asked my neighbour for the phone number to her old house so I could ring B. I was such a chicken. I only called once or twice. I never knew what to say. What was I going to say? “Hey, want to hang out?” Lol. It’s kind of what happened – when I felt brave enough to try. Of course he wasn’t interested! Lol. If he had been, I would have been swatting him off with a cricket bat. Lol

Two years down the track, I was still hankering for him. His brother was getting married. Mum and me were minding the neighbour’s young ones while she went to her brother’s wedding. B came back to her house early. He came over to our house to see how his nephews and nieces were. A ruse, I’m sure, looking back. Anyway…he was dressed nicely. He’d just come back from a wedding after all and to me nothing had changed in two years. He looked gorgeous. He smelled amazing. I was a goner.

Sadly, I thought it would mean we’d “hang out” now. I’d call him to see if he’d want to “hang out”. They just ended up “booty” calls in the end. To me it didn’t matter. It was SOMETHING. Anything to just…have a bit of time with him. It could have gone on for ssooo long. It went on far longer than it should have. Thankfully, after several months, I met Roger who saved me from this sad, pathetic thing I had with B. A genuine boyfriend who wanted to be with me properly. At least for a while anyway.

I’m not comparing Jim to B, per se. It’s a very different thing. I wanted to bone B (not that I am saying that I don’t want that with Jim. Lol. But I am a realist!). It’s all those emotions and feelings you confuse yourself with as a teen: love, lust, friendship, admiration, desire, infatuation. They all blur and blend and you hardly know what’s what. I really was naive enough to think once I had sex with B that I’d be his girlfriend and we’d be together. Silly girl! I had no one to really talk to about it. No friends of my own age. I couldn’t talk about it with mum. My one close friend at that point was B’s sister. I couldn’t talk to her! Although she was aware enough how keen on him I was. I couldn’t talk to my sister. She had just gotten married herself and was preoccupied with that. I didn’t feel as though I could talk to her about those kind of things.

God, it’s all such a lifetime ago. And it’s all still fresh in my mind like it was just a short time ago. I’m nearly 50, FFS! And I’m talking about stuff that happened to me at 18 like it was fucking yesterday! It’s ridiculous how much B comes to my thoughts. His sister was at mum’s funeral last year.

Jim made it all feel safe. Like…here is this man I absolutely fancy the pants off – but he’s my friend, and that’s enough. I love him and I’ll never have him. But he’s my friend and it’s enough.

But it’s gone. It just feels like it’s gone. I guess I never had it. Or I just kidded myself that I did. Allowed myself to believe it.

And I keep wondering what went wrong. What happened in March and then after April and “jalopy”.

So…to stop it hurting I say to myself “just think of him in 1982. Just throw all the stuff into that. All that desire and hankering. All the wishing and praying. All the lust. Throw it all there.”

And like Alice…I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole once more. I talk too much. And share too much. Cry too much. FUCKING MENOPAUSE! I’m trying to accept it is happening but…I am still that 18 year old girl. When the fuck did I arrive at 50?! A lifetime has gone but I don’t feel as if I’ve lived it.

In the meantime…I’ve kind of worked on “art”. Will probably become a new blog banner in a day or two.

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Interactivity Central

Well, I have to say, there was an incredible amount of interactivity from Mr Kerr today on Facebook! It was lovely, albeit not really anything for me personally.

Perhaps my own grief was hitting me a lot harder than I imagined? Because…I’m just dealing with it now. Trying not to have it feel like “rejection”. Applying all the logical things I should do to help to “not take it personally” – I am just one fan in many – and JUST A FAN … just … a fan – to him. He can’t show any kind of favouritism (but to be honest, it didn’t seem to stop him years back, that one)…etc, etc.

But a few months back, it was REALLY hurting. But I think it really was just grief for mum making it feel much worse. I guess because of last time I was in Oz, she was alive, I was doing the art…all of that converged. Jim was wonderful to me.

I suppose I was just wanting to reach out – WAS reaching out…but he was going through his own grief. I naively hoped that maybe it would mean that…affinity…the kind of kinship I was feeling last time in Oz I hoped would return “when I needed him”.

I was feeling like…I dunno, like he HATED me. Hoping for something at the Scottish Music Awards. Mum had passed just days before, on Charlie’s birthday. I was hoping for just a look…something. I was up in the rafters anyway. He probably didn’t even know where I was. His da wasn’t long passed, either. Selfish of me.

I was okay out in Oz, surrounded by friends and family. In spite of the circumstances – and the adverse weather conditions when I was out there, it was good to be home. I felt horrendously displaced though. Every time I travelled towards the city and then back again to my sister’s or to Gwenda’s, and the train went through Liverpool station, it felt strange not to be getting off the train there. There would be this kind of questioning inner voice “why aren’t we stopping here? Aren’t we going to see mum?” Like the previous time back home, when I was with her and I kept waiting for David to call, or to just walk in through the door.

I don’t think the grief started to hit until I got back here to Glasgow…and I didn’t know what to do with it. I still don’t think I felt it. Because you’re not there. You’re not around physically to be impacted upon with the loss.

My sister had arranged an open coffin at the funeral. I found it really incredibly upsetting. I didn’t want my last memory of mum to be lying dead in a coffin! I didn’t even want to look, really, but with family around me and them all going in…what was I meant to do? I stood there. I stood by her but…I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t do things that my sister was doing…stroking her face, giving her a kiss. Her in the coffin was my first physical interaction (short of touching her) with her in over 3 years. I just don’t think I wanted that to be my end with her.

And it isn’t what David wanted me to experience with him. He implored me to stay here and not go back home to see him. It meant the last time I saw him was in 2007. And the last pictures I saw of him was when he still looked healthy – at his son’s wedding almost three years earlier. I didn’t see photos of how he looked in the months and weeks before he passed away. I never have. My memory of him is how he wished for it to be for me.

This is becoming maudlin central because – I wanted to explain that I am starting to…feel okay…and try not to give so many fucks, and learn not to “take it personally”.

I sound a fool, I know…but I adore this man. Jim felt like he gave me my life back…or at least made me feel like I could finally find purpose in why I was here. And…frigging hell…I had been searching for that for such a long time! Beyond the silly ogling and finding him physically attractive… He felt like…a saviour. I know! But it felt that profound.

So for a time there has been this…thing where…the interaction was amazing and I felt – most likely in a rather delusional way – an affinity, a kinship…call it what you will…just “liked” by Jim. And then things will die away and I would suddenly start thinking “oh, I’ve done something wrong. He’s pissed off. Oh, what have I done? Oh, why won’t he say anything to me?”

Oh, God! I sound so fucking paranoid! But…this is what happens.

By Copenhagen…yeah. Certain things happened to alleviate that feeling a little but others didn’t help. Not the band’s fault, heck! But…the cancelling of the soundcheck was a bummer. To be able to see the two shows was ssooo great! And I thought I got some interaction from Jim – that he poked his tongue out at me and later gave me a wink…but how do you ever know? He could be winking and poking his tongue out at someone behind me or beside me. The only time I know for sure about things is one-to-one interactions. Stage doors at Bridlington and Drury Lane – him talking to me from the stage at Bristol – the meet and greet at Colchester. Anything else is wishful thinking.

Yet…that look he gave me near the end of the Copenhagen gigs, I have no doubt was for me. Lol. Silly that I try to convince myself that positive things from him MUST be for someone else, yet negative things are DEFINITELY for me.

It feels like it has been hardest of all these past few months, so I am guessing it’s the grief for mum playing the biggest part. These feelings cycle round. They have done for years now.

I guess I’m never gonna stop wanting to be his friend, so while that hope remains ever present, this cycle will continue.

giphy

 

 

Pretty Flamingo(s)

“When he walks by he brightens up the neighbourhood
Oh, every gal would make him hers if she just could
If he just would”

Just When I Think It Can’t Be Done

That…it is just not possible…I fall more in love with this man every day.

As the mantra implies…I WILL fucking listen to The Sensational Alex Harvey Band…because, if he really loves Alex this much (as it is so evident in his words), I no doubt will too.

Christmas Dreams

As you may know (you may not…but you soon will!), I rarely dream of Sir. The current statistic would be about 4 times a year. Lol. (Two dreams in one night! – The link might show at the bottom of the page if the metadata matches them up.)

I have also, for the past 3 Christmases, asked Santa to deliver me Sir under my Christmas tree 🙂

Anyway…Santa delivered this year! In my dreams, at least. The locations in my dreams are not always easy to pinpoint (a lot tend to be composite blends of several locations), but I think this one might have been on the Renfrew ferry, and around December, 1983. The filming of the Waterfront video. Jim and the other Minds bhoys all (d)rugged (sorry, just his corny and perhaps deliberately playful reply to my comment about keeping warm in Glasgow when I went there in early November) up against the cold.

Well, in this dream, I seemingly was on the ferry with them, sitting next to Jim, on his left. At some point I must have appeared particularly cold, or he just fancied it…but he reached over with his left arm, pulled me in close and hugged me. He just held me there against his left side. I, in turn, wrapped my arms around his middle and snuggled in close.

It felt wonderful! There was absolutely nothing sexual about it (more’s the pity!!), just a warming embrace…but it felt magical. 

In my dream, he kept me there in that embrace for a good 10 to 15 minutes…I was then roused awake from my dream by Wonderful In Young Life playing in my ears on my iPod.

It felt like the most beautiful Christmas morning! A happy “Jimbo Crimbo”. 


Shove over, Mel! You’re hogging mae spot! Lol