One revolution, two revolution, three revolutions of GovBall

Two years ago today I was lamenting my trip to NYC, something that I’d parsed over a thousand times, because I really liked the guy I’d gone to see. Well, sort of. I also went to see GovBall.

A year ago today I was at dinner with him in the Village that would later become a point of contention because we spent too much. He paid. And months later, it wasn’t cool. I didn’t go to GovBall because I couldn’t get my RFID bracelet in time.

Now this guy’s not talking to me because of something I don’t know, but quite possibly over a lot of fictional stuff I wrote that made him uncomfortable. Or maybe because I’m weird and autistic and I push the envelope when I can’t read between the lines. Or maybe because of something I will never know or understand or process. But yeah. I got 👻-ed by a dude I never really loved but who made for the basis of a character I actually did fall in love with.

I can’t find the logic in it. I can’t square this odd behavior. I can only leave it up to unpredictable forces that we encounter, and which become more predictable with study and introspection. Some things have natural expiration dates. And others get called on account of the weather. You have to accept it. It’s for your benefit. Like Governor’s Ball.

I got on the island around 8 on Sunday night because they postponed opening the gates due to a thunderstorm. I was probably there for 1/2 an hour, watching Nas, before the whole festival got shut down cause another goddamned thunderstorm came through. Every stage shut down and big signs told us to get the fuck off the island. Only not quite like that.

As soon as I’d gotten into a school bus, the sky opened up and the heavens rendered unto earth a deluge. Lighting. Thunder. On a flat island with lots of metal stages. So yeah, I’m really ok with not standing in a giant, packed crowd waiting for The Strokes and getting a mega dose of voltage. Because I’m not about that life.

Point is, some things, no matter how much we want them, are not good for us. And it’s a blessing in disguise for them to be over, even if it feels a bit premature. Would I have loved to have seen The Strokes? Of course. But at what cost to myself?

Sometimes life gets called for rain. We can’t always see the storm clouds coming when it does. Blue skies over head don’t absolve us from constantly moving weather patterns. And we can only know from hindsight what we were saved from having to endure.

I might not quite know yet what I’ve escaped when someone disappears from my life. But I know that my life can’t revolve around anyone who so easily would slip away. And tomorrow may rain so I’ll follow the sun.

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