Illadelph Bass-life: The Good, The Bad, The WTF?

by pronounced "ahhh" like a sigh

Day 3 in Philly. I’ve checked out of the hotel. I’m sitting in the lobby waiting for someone to pick me up, feed me and put me on a train to Boogie.

This weekend was an avalanche of every possible emotion known to man, woman or Bass. I’m exhausted. Drained. My head. My heart. My body. Just exhausted.

This festival was amazing. This festival was life changing. Things that I’ve told you  or tweeted about reading for Ms. Giovanni. Having this woman acknowledge and like my work, it’s inspiring to say the least. It makes me take that bit of insecure I have about my writing and put it away. It makes me want to press on. It makes me want to leap into this book proposal and crawl my way out of it. It makes me want to finish something. It makes me want to start something. It makes me want to be better than I was yesterday. Make the writing dance faster and clearer. It makes me want to do something.

The man and his card keep staring at me. Publishing. His words about my words are encouraging. He repeats, “you’ve got something here.” while thumbing through this manuscript I haven’t looked at in years. “You’ve got something. There’s something about the order in which you place your words. It’s too casual to be deliberate. To spot on to be happenstance. You’ve got something.” He repeats this over and over while shaking his head. I’m not sure what to do with that so I take his card and promise to contact him. The Little Hater tells me he doesn’t mean it. That this is what people say to be polite. The little Hater says, “don’t call. Email. At least, when he’s too busy to respond, you won’t be interrupting his day. We’ll see.

And then.

Him. And the conversation 7 months too late.

Her. And her demon tongue, wicked spirit.

Me. And my apologetic, heavy heart.

Us. And the we can  never again be.

This. Is why I’m so sad. In this lobby. Waiting for someone to pick me up. Feed me. Put me on a train to Boogie.

He says to count the victories.

I want to count the victories and I am. Need to count the victories and there are so many. There is something about the easy. The way your body falls into comfortable angles. When the jokes are easy. When you can look someone in the eyes for the first time in forever. When there is no looking away. When the tears come and are immediately comforted. When the shoulder is patted. When the hair is pushed back. When the arm is held. When someone stops you from running. When you run anyway. When you say the only thing that feels right. When as soon as the words hit oxygen, you wish to take them back. When your body falls into fear at comfortable angles. When you have to stand straight and remember the truth. When you know that life changes from moment to moment and what you said and didn’t mean yesterday, can be restated, doused with truth and set on fire today. When you love God and trust the universe enough to bring an old friend back in a new box and still welcome them. When you apologize with every nerve ending and fiber of your being.

When you love someone and mean it. When you love someone and mean it. When you love someone and mean it. When you love someone.

Mean it,

B.

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