"Cornerstone"

"Cornerstone" by Arctic Monkeys
https://youtu.be/9qqvO7o32qI

                He sat on the solitary blue wooden bench overlooking the beach. The paint was faded, chipping away to uncover the bare, raw natural tan. He sat there, just staring out into the ocean, watching the foamy tide swish back and forth. It was a sunny day, but the air felt brisk and still as the dusk was approaching its end. There were no families playing in the sand, and no birds singing their songs. Nothing but abandoned branches and seashells and the repetitive sound of the crashing wave accompanying his loneliness.

            He did what he would’ve done somewhere else or in the comfort of his own apartment, and that was think of her. He thought about her sarcastic jokes and her Californian colloquialisms. He thought about the valuable moments of their relationship, all of the staple memories that defined the kind of love they had. Yet the uneasy discussion of separation crept back in the cracks of his memory. He didn’t want their relationship to end, but he understood the reasons for her leaving, and he too didn’t have the capacity to continue the relationship himself. With his need to chase the wild drunken nights and his family’s apprehensiveness of her cultural background, he did not know how to balance all of it. Perhaps he should’ve known it would have most likely fail since he was after all a young white man from Tennessee and she was a Californian Asian-American young lady. They came from different cultures, and sometimes that was well known. Whether it was his religious upbringing, or her agnostic views.  Still, in the end he knew that he missed her, he missed all of her.

            As the night was approaching, he finally left the bench and started his journey home. As he drove by the plaza filled with boutiques and charming bistros, he passed by the ice cream store that they went to on their first date. He could never taste tart cherries and creamy vanilla the same way ever again. He needed a distraction to keep him from his misery, so he turned on the radio. He left it on the oldies station. As he was beginning to feel comforted by the familiar music, the haunting strum of the surf rock guitar riff came on. It was “Surfer Girl” by the Beach Boys, and he swore he felt his heart stopped the second it came on. This song always reminded him of her, probably because of the romanticizing tone it possessed, but also because she loved listening to it so much. He could’ve changed the station or turned it off altogether, but he couldn’t. It was too beautiful to push away.

            Moments later, he finally reached his apartment complex. He parked his car in his designated spot, and started to make his way to his place. He decided to walk the four flight of stairs up to his floor instead of using the elevator. He ran up the first set of stairs, and then ran up the second with a faster pace. As he was turning the corner to the third flight of stairs, he notices a moving figure with long black hair ahead of him. He felt his breath leave his body, and wondered if this woman in a black hoodie and black jeans was his ex-lover. He ran up the stairs trying to catch up to her. As she was reaching the top of the fourth staircase, he was starting to feel his sweat roll down his forehead. He was getting close to her back. The woman could hear him behind her so she turned around. When she turned to face him, he saw the familiar dark brown eyes stare back at him but it was not the woman he loved. He suddenly felt heartbroken.

            “Um. Can I help you?” The woman asked nervously.

            “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m just in a hurry to get home.”

            “Oh… That’s alright. I guess I was moving pretty slow, I hope I wasn’t in your way.”

            He gave a slight smile and said, “No it’s alright, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

            He told the woman to have a good night and went on his way, running faster to reach his door. He walked into his dark apartment, and turned the living room light on. He looked around and noticed how quiet it was. He went over to his navy blue couch and slumped into the left seat. He stared up into the ceiling and wondered if she thought about him too.

"The Less I know The Better"

"The Less I Know The Better" by Tame Impala

https://youtu.be/FAcaAeIwl1Q

                I was running towards the elevator with my twenty-dollar black stiletto heels that I bought last weekend. Probably not a good idea to run with them on. What if I trip and fall in front of everyone? That would be embarrassing, and the talk of the night unless some drunken idiot vomits all over himself in an attempt to pick up a poor girl just trying to have fun. Luckily, I didn’t become that awkward girl that night, and made it to the bar. I hate running late to anything, especially a party because once you arrive after everyone gets there, their eyes all flutter towards your direction. All of a sudden, you are the center of attention, and I hate being the center of attention.

                I’ve always been introverted probably since I was born, but knowingly since I was in high school. I faded into the background of my adolescent peers, which is how I preferred it. It’s probably the second reason why I decided to write about music artists. I can write about someone else and their work, and make them the center of attention. The first reason being, because music has always been my pleasant space. I guess you can say I have fallen in love with it, and we’ve been in a rewarding committed relationship ever since.

                As I walked inside the chic modern style bar, I walked into a room full of music. Thank God. It was loud enough for people not to notice I arrived an hour late to the party, and I avoided that dreaded, “who just came in?” stare. I looked around to observe all of the guests, in their fancy cocktail clothes. I saw my friend Zara standing by the far left of the bar, laughing and shoving a man’s arm. She’s probably talking about her trip to France over the summer. She’s been obsessed with regurgitating the same details about a hot bellhop who worked in her hotel, and gave her the “best vacation she ever had”. There were a lot of people I didn’t know, which was starting to give me a panic attack. I hate going to parties, they’re so stressful. Going around a room, saying hi to a bunch of people you never even spoke to in your life, and hearing them talk about themselves over and over again. The only reason why I came tonight was because it was my good friend Thom’s birthday, and I already flaked on him last weekend, when he asked me out for drinks and two weekends ago when this new restaurant opened. Thom is a good friend, and it’s his birthday so the decent thing to do is to at least show up for his birthday.

                I gazed around the room one more time, to see if I could find someone I knew. I walked deeper into the bar, turning my head left and right trying to find at least one person. I was starting to feel ridiculous, and was hoping no one noticed how lost I looked. The room was starting to feel warm, maybe from my anxiety and probably from the bodies moving around this confined dark wood structure. I was starting to sweat, and then finally turning my head right one more time, I spotted Thom. He was with another friend I knew, which made me breathe even more easily.

                “Oh my God. Look who finally showed up!” Thom yelled with sassed enthusiasm.

                “I’m sorry I’m late, there was traffic down 3^rd street.”

                “Oh hush honey, there’s no such thing as being late to a bar party.”

                He kissed me on the cheek, then I handed him his birthday gift. He shook the box that was wrapped in black and white hounds tooth paper.

                Thom and I began catching up as we both spotted his ex-boyfriend entering the bar with a mysterious gentleman in a tailored all black suit. His light blonde hair was nicely combed over, and his stubble jaw outlined his bright white teeth. I had no idea who he was, but when I saw the disturbed look on Thom’s face, I was able to figure it out.

                “Ugh! I can’t believed he brought his new boyfriend! This is completely unacceptable!” He shrieked.

                “I thought you two were cool after your break-up?”

                “Well yes, but you don’t bring a new lover to an ex’s party. That’s completely, unbecoming!”

                “Maybe he thought, you moved on. You were the one who still wanted to be friends. Remember?”

                “But we only broke up six months ago. Wounds are still fresh!”

                “C’mon Thom, there are so many cute guys here. Look! Dark hair, muscular bod, cute smile, that seems like your type, huh?”

                Thom ignored me and continued to monitor his old flame blazing the room with his new beau.  His ex’s face lit up every time someone introduced themselves to his new partner. He put his arm around his waist, smiled at him, and when everyone was obviously looking, he gave him a small peck on his blushing pink lips. Thom had enough and turned away, and what made matters worse was when a young girl walked by openly blabbing about the new couple.

                “Yeah, I met Aaron’s new boyfriend already at his birthday party last month. He seems nice. I heard they’re thinking about moving in together soon. They’re moving so fast!”

                Thom’s eyes begin to well up with tears.

                “Well, I hope he’s happy because he ruined my evening!” He cried before walking away.

                “Thom, wait! I mean it was bound to happen sometime, right? I mean you guys broke up six months ago.”

                “That doesn’t mean I wanna hear about their moving plans!”

                I watched him go out the back. I wanted to go after him to cheer him up, but I knew he wanted to be alone. Still, I wanted to make sure Thom was okay and not crying hysterically in an alley behind a bar. As I was making my way to the back alley to comfort my friend, I hear a low voice with a southern accent behind me.

                “Um, excuse me miss?”

                I turned around to see a tall, slightly slim, average built man standing right in front of me. His light brown hair was glowing in the dim light of the bar, and his eyes were locked into mine. Were they blue or were they green? I wasn’t sure what color they were, but they were alluring. He was saying something to me again, but I didn’t hear what it was. I was completely mesmerized by his charming accent, and his low gruff voice. After snapping out of it, I was able to hear him ask me what my name was.

"Don't Let Me Down/Oh Darling!"

For the next few posts for my blog, I want to do a project. I'm going to listen to music, and write a story inspired by the songs I choose. This is the first one I wrote, and I'll post a link to the songs, so you know what songs I'm using. I won't post the lyrics but looking up the lyrics online should be pretty easy. I picked two songs this week, which are "Don't Let Me Down" and "Oh Darling!" by The Beatles.The stories below go together, and centers around an argument between a couple. The girlfriend's point of view ("Don't Let Me Down") of the argument is first and the boyfriend's ("Oh Darling!") is second.

https://youtu.be/NCtzkaL2t_Y

“Don’t Let Me Down”

I sat in his bed while he cleansed the night before with the steam and Irish Spring soap. I was fidgeting with his red and black tartan plaid blanket with my fingertips, while contemplating how to help him remember the drunken mess that occurred in the pub style bar last night. While tugging and stretching the cotton fabric, I tried to remember myself. It all happened so fast and left everyone at the bar with a bitter taste in their mouths. Bitter than the Irish whisky he downed before the sharp words he exchanged with his brother.

He finally came out of the bathroom, looking like a refreshed man ready for a new day. After rubbing his towel on his damp hair, he smiled and asked me if I slept okay. I stared at him trying to find the first word to say. I looked down, and felt a lump rolling up my throat.

“Do you remember anything at all last night? You were pretty drunk.” I apprehensively asked.

“Um. Not really.” He smirked, and said “I remember the Jameson before seeing my brother.”

“So you don’t remember what you said to him and what he said to you?”

He looked down with his hand on the back of his head, and lowly mumbled, “Not all of it…I remembered yelling at him, but I’m not sure why.”

I stared into his brown infused blue eyes, stoically trying not to lose my temper. Nevertheless, I can feel the lump go up again, but this time faster.

“Really?” I doubtfully asked.

He let out a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking seriously!? How drunk were you!?” I yelled.

His demeanor changed, and his attitude went from uncertain to defensive.

 “What? I told you I don’t remember! You said you would be DD. It’s not like I was arguing with you last night, I was fighting with him!”

“Look it’s not only the fight you and your brother had, which was fucking embarrassing by the way!”

“I’m fucking sorry!”

“Let me finish! You told me you weren’t going to drink that much whisky last night, and you lied! What the fuck!?”

“I don’t know what to say..”

“Really?! Because you had so much to say last night…Look whatever issue you two were dealing with is your business, but when you drink, you have a tendency to say things that you don’t mean. Things that hurt.”

He just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his record player that laid against his dark gray painted wall. Not saying a word. Not even a half hearted sorry. After the short awkward silence, I spoke again.

“The fucked up thing is you lied, why did you-“

“I said I’d do my best!”

“Well, your best was shit.”

“What the fuck? And you say I’m hurtful!”

He got up from the bed, and looked straight at me. His eyebrows were scrunched down, and his face was turning red.

“What did he say to me? Because I wouldn’t just start fightin’ with him for no reason.” He asked.

“Look he wasn’t exactly nice about it either, he did yell at you first.”

“So why are jumping down my throat so fast?”

“Because if you didn’t drink so much last night, you would’ve been able to handle the situation better! You promised me-“

“I actually didn’t. So….”

His bluntness hit me so hard, and I can feel the sting of his spiteful words in my chest. I stood up and turned my back to him, trying to hold my tears in. I don’t want to cry, not at this. I don’t want to open that part of me. But they came, and I felt the warm liquid run down my cheek. I couldn’t stand him any longer. I had to get out. I rushed to grab my bag and phone and ran out of his apartment.

When I was back at home, I fell into my bed and started sobbing. I haven’t cried that hard in a long time, and I hated the fact he was the one making me do it. He never made me cry this much before, yet I still felt conflicted about our fight. Was I being too hard on him? No fucking way! He was acting stupid last night, and even dumber today. Still, as I lay weeping, I knew that we both got heated pretty fast, and the repercussions of the entire fight was too raw to handle. I’ve never had a love like his before, and despite this fight, he has always been so incredibly sweet to me. He knew he shouldn’t have drank that much whiskey, and I told him I hated the way he acts when he does. Why did he have to let me down? 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

 *Unfortunately, I couldn't find a video of the The Beatles version of the song, so you might have to find this song on your own*

“Oh Darling!”

  I wish she didn’t yell at me so damn loud. I knew I drank too much last night, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but It’s been a long week. She turned around and didn’t look at me one bit when she grabbed her stuff and left. The sound of my front door slamming shut rang in my ear, and was the only thing she left me with. I let out a sigh, and sat down on my bed. I looked down, and stared at a crack on the surface of the ash wood floor of my bedroom. Was that there before?

She knows how hot headed my brother gets, why couldn’t she see my point of view? I didn’t actually promise her I wouldn’t drink whisky last night. I did tell her I would try though. Maybe I did let her down. Ugh I hate this, I hate knowing she’s mad at me, but it’s probably my fault. Honestly, how else is she supposed to feel? I put her in this situation. She might’ve yelled at me first, but I must’ve acted like a huge asshole last night, for her to be this mad. I went back and forth in my mind for a while, and went over the entire fight that I had with her. This isn’t the first time this happened, me getting drunk and fighting with my brother. It probably get’s old real quick. I really fucked up, will she ever speak to me again? Maybe I should call her, and ask if she can come back to work things out.

I grabbed my phone and called her, hoping she would pick up, but it went to voicemail. I called her again, hoping she was in the bathroom, hoping she was just away from her phone instead of avoiding me. It rang four times, and then it went to voicemail again. This time I decided to leave her a message, hoping she sees my urgency.

“Hey, honey look, I’m sorry. Can you please come back and talk to me? If you don’t want to drive all the way back, I can go over your place if you want. Just let me know what you want to do. Look I..I never meant to hurt you. I know I fucked up. Okay, I hope to hear from you soon.”

I waited ten minutes by my phone, looking at it and hoping it would just ring. I stared at it, hoping to see her name across that screen. God, I hope she doesn’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do if she did. She could be stubborn and quick tempered sometimes, but she’s also compassionate and silly, and I love her. Suddenly, I started to panic at the thought of her never coming back, and leaving for good. Hearing her say, “I’m done with you”, and to never speak, hug, or kiss me ever again. I would be devastated, and probably lose my mind.

I was feeling agitated, and I could feel my anxiety building up. That was another thing she was good at, helping me through my anxiety. The nerves were too much to handle, so I got up and started walking out to my living room. I needed to be in a wider space. I started pacing back and forth, and started to lose my breath. The air felt thick and humid, like summertime in Tennessee. I walked over to my window to open it, and moved my face close to the mesh to the point of almost touching it. A cool breeze met my face, and I could finally breathe again. I inhaled and exhaled a couple of times by the window, and with each breath I took in, I could feel my anxiety calming down.

I knew it was no point sitting by my phone and waiting for her call because I knew what she needed, and that was time. I know her, I know she needs some time to herself to think everything over, and maybe I needed that too. She will eventually call, and I’ll be here waiting.

I decided to watch some old westerns to keep my mind off my phone. I was still waiting for my darling to call me back, but it’s been seven hours now. Maybe I should call her again. No, I should give her some space, and call back tomorrow if she doesn’t call me tonight. I did this to myself, the argument was bad, but I knew what hurt her most, and that was my reckless behavior. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she’s too good for me, and maybe she shouldn’t call me back. As I started to wrap my mind around that heart breaking thought, my phone rang. It was dark in my living room, and even though my TV is on, the light from my phone was the only thing I saw.