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On Marriage : Organizing the Closets - kale & cigarettes
On Marriage : Organizing the Closets

On Marriage : Organizing the Closets


There isn’t a playbook for how to take care of yourself after you’ve upended your entire life. I wish there was something. To really make sure you’re okay.


Saturday

I’m at the beach right now. Well, on a bluff above the beach so I don’t have to touch the sand. Law Street. It’s from my old playbook. I find myself making familiar moves that I’d forgotten about. Driving to places that call to me and offer comfort. 

I’m doing quite well today. Better than I anticipated considering she drove off in her yellow Mercedes just 24 hours ago, turning back to wave at the last minute. I was filming from my phone so I could go back and watch the moment that would never happen again over and over. 

I have a little charge of self-confidence from thinking this was the right move, even though it was extremely difficult. Then again, being unhappy is extremely difficult but people do it all the time. 

Maggie Rogers is in my ears. The sun on my body. And the blue ocean breeze brushing across my skin. I have a book I intend to read and some friends I will text with. I put on sunscreen and then cleaned my hands with baby wipes that I carry in my backpack like a mom. 

Alexis texted me that she saw a psychic today. I made fun of her at first but remembered I saw one right after Darci and I broke up. 

The psychic told her she was about to rise from the pond and start shining. That she has been living in the shadows and it’s time to start casting her own. 

I am hopeful for a world filled with her shadows. 


Sunday

I’m at my solo brunch. A tradition after the 8am F45 class across the street. I walk next door to Waypoint for scrambled eggs, bacon, and avocado. They know my order now, which makes me feel like a dad from the Midwest at his local spot. It’s homey in a town that often feels distant. Raechel (not a typo), the bartender, and I talk about movies and the books we are reading. This started because I always bring a book and my journal and she asks me what I am reading. 

She tells me about the second job she just got at Starlite. Then she asks about Italy, the trip Alexis and I were supposed to take in two weeks. 

“Are you guys excited about your trip?”

Similar questions have been coming up every few hours. A client outright asking where Alexis is when we’re on set. “We’re divorced and she moved to LA,” is what races through my mind. 

But I have to keep the business moving forward and I have to keep my Sunday ritual protected.


Jaime talked me into going to a modern dance show last night. I can’t imagine sitting through a non-company student performance of modern dance without having just been through a divorce and desperately needing something to occupy my time. 

He walked up to my apartment with a freshly shaven head, capri length black pants, and high white socks coming out of black leather shoes. 

I had been thinking about dance since Alexis left. All the relationships I made. Jaime and Sandra still being good friends today. But I never reconciled with Aubhre. And it always bothered me. I wasn’t going to try to be with her, but I wondered what she was up to.

“Am I going to know anyone there?” I asked Jaime.

“God, I hope not. I don’t want to be recognized there.” 

“It would be funny if Aubrhe was there, “ I said jokingly. 

“She’s performing,” he said deadpan right to my face 


Monday

I rode my bike to the park to watch the sunset. I keep moving. Once I stop then I will really stop. I’m out here living my life and that familiar breeze is back when the sun is going down and my skin feels like the air. 

Yesterday was good. I had my workout then breakfast then I met half the team downtown to set up for a big shoot then I met my friend for coffee then Chris and I saw The Farewell and now I’m here, covered in gold. 

Lonely is the night. Since I was the little boy desperate to fall asleep before my dad turned on the dishwasher. After that, came his footsteps up the stairs, leaving me to protect the house and my little sister on the main floor. 

The day can be so full of life and motion. I can be light and even happy. Then it is night. The sky is dark. My apartment is still. There isn’t a bed with my dog and my wife waiting to be snuggled. 

The thing that comes for all of us is how we handle being alone. 


Tuesday

Such a waste to have the holy grail of bodily functions happen now. I burped and farted at the same time and she wasn’t there to tell me how disgusting I was while I smiled and forced her into a hug while I let it all build around us. 

My shoe rack came today. I’ve wasted no time making improvements to the apartment. Now I have a row for each mood.

On top are my sandals, which I never wear because they are lazy fashion and too SoCal.. Then it’s my stylish, yet functional, row of Allbirds. Black on black for serious days. Green on cream for statement outfits. And grey on white for everything else. 

Below is where the work gets done. My APL workout shoes for weight days. My APL casual trainers for highly functional, non-workout days. And my Vessi waterproof sneakers that I will literally never wear because I ordered them off an IG ad after a flush month and they look like Ninja Turtle slippers. 

Last night, in bed, I began to wonder what the fuck I had just done. The adrenaline of a whirlwind settled and left me at the bottom of a bomb crater. How will I recreate my life? What will be the next thing I care about? Aside from organizing my closet.

Which brings me to the cord sleeves that also arrived today. Which will serve up a few hours of sheer neurotic oysters as I go around and organize power supplies into neat little right angles to silence the wires that can no longer trouble me as I attempt to watch Netflix in peace. 

My apartment is only so big. Eventually, I’ll have to face that empty bed again. 

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