In the beforetimes, when I lived in LA and airports felt more like local meet-ups because of how frequently I was in them, I daydreamed. I spent so much time away that driving up the 101 prior to my exit onto Silver Lake Blvd felt like just another town, just another place i was in, not like home. In between tours i would meet up with friends or take walks in my neighborhood; I was there but not present. I felt disconnected, like a ghost.
This permeated my existence. I would return home to my apartment dazed from tequila on the flight, dehydrated from airline pretzels. The space felt familiar, but not exactly settled. I would unpack, start laundry, open the windows, let the breeze and sun into the room. Take the dog out.
This familiar distance had its effects. Brahm would return home from work, happy that I was there, and I would want him to devour me. Being around him wasn’t enough, i wanted constant authentic connection. I felt like a piece of furniture. I was insatiable (and probably annoying). The profound loneliness that consumed me while I was away most of the year had become so normalized inside me, I could barely tell where I was at any given moment. I would romanticize my partnership while I was away, and be disappointed at the sheer reality our reunion. I wanted passion and intensity, late, long conversations and moonlit nights. I wanted a movie. I got a mosquito invasion, and a partner exhausted from his own work days and life challenges. I expected time to pause for him when i left, and pick up when i returned. That’s how it felt for me.
I dreamt like a teenager of unrequited passion. I let myself drift on the faintly remembered sensations of new love and lust. My old journals, with stories of romantic encounters in snow filled woods - like the latest Netflix movie, reminded me of this ache. I longed for desire, to be missed, coveted, craved.
I set up for this song in my apartment closet. I needed somewhere to put this energy. (I’m not even sure i wrote it, like many of my writings it felt like an arcane download.)
I hope this song feels to you like the daydream of a lover. I hope it sounds to you like laying on your bed, on a Saturday afternoon, recounting your kiss from last night. I hope you feel desired.
I hope you make out with reckless abandon.
xo Beebe
9.17.21