So, Irv threw away my Nick Cave tickets, because he was being careless. Nick Cave never tours, this was to be a once in a lifetime opportunity. I've been bottling up my feelings about this for weeks, but it's given me stress, when I think about it. When he first admitted that he thought he chucked the envelope, he was sure to tell me at lunch in the center of a very small and crowded restaurant I had an asthma attack because I was trying to stifle the tears that immediately came. I didn't want to embarrass myself.
Today, it came up in discussion, because I tried to see if I could call about it, and basically in the confirmation email, it was pretty much stated that if lost, destroyed, whatever, they can't replace them. Devastating. I've loved Nick Cave pretty much my whole adult life. It became apparent, when I've been casting about among my myriad playlists to find something to put on and just have playing, that there are very few without Nick Cave. I've been avoiding listening to him because it's depressing, and the gods know I don't need any more depressing shit right now.
Anyway, today, I broke down because the show is a week away, and there's no way to fix things. I launched into a full on sob, fully inconsolable. Irv tried to blame Alden maybe he picked them up, or maybe it was my fault for leaving them too near his desk, or..the cat, or sun spots, or aliens. I was like "fuck you, and just apologize." He's very bad at apologizing. At first, he said "we can fix this, it'll be ok." I refuse to be pacified. It will very definitely not be ok. 10th row. $200 for these fucking tickets. Count Basie Theater. He was going to take me to Drew's, for dinner, then on to the city. Once in a lifetime. So, I'm angry. I'm sad. I married a Walling, the kind of guy who will sweep every paper off a surface, and shred them because one or two in the pile were garbage. Which in light of all the bullshit that's been going on, is becoming some kind of fucking curse. A Walling. I'm crying a little about it right now. I ask for so little, you know? I have a knot in my stomach. This was my big Christmas present, and through all the heinous bullshit, this concert was to be the whole light of my spring.
This Walling also broke my netbook a few months ago, and refused to admit that or apologize, too. He accidentally dumped a full, 12 oz. cup of tea with honey into the keyboard, right in front of me. I let him use it after the flood, because he was too lazy to put his own computer back together. The poor 'book still lives, but you can't type on it. To make the keypad work, one must literally slam the hell out of it. I alluded to "saving up for a replacement". And that's all that was said on the matter. It hurt, because I work part time. I make a hundred bucks a week. I have no money, yet, I saved for months to buy this netbook, just two years ago. I loved that thing. I took it whenever we went on vacation, and it lived upstairs in my room, on my hobby table. I let him use it, he destroys it, moves on- no apologies...
So, today he wanted to go shopping, like spontaneously after my huge cry-fest over the tickets. He finally decided to replace Alden's computer which died in the flood, too. While we were at the store, he also bought me a new netbook, a really exceptionally nice one, top of the line, way better than the one he demolished.
Luiz was shopping with us, and he commented out of Irv's earshot "you know, this is a patch, this is his way of apologizing." The tears, the anguish over the tickets is so real, so real, I'm *still* crying, even now. This is not a demonstration, this is not a show. I can't talk about it without choking up. I can't listen to my favorite artist without choking up all over again. This is genuine pain. And for my pain, I get a shiny new computer. I hate that. I'm being bought.
I hate it, but I am fine taking it. I'm conditioned to it. My mother can't apologize either. She can't admit wrongdoing. She used to beat the shit out of me, or let Earl beat the shit out of me, but...my god, I had the hottest suede boots in all of Memorial School. Both my mother and Irv just, literally throw money at problems. And you know what? I will fucking take it. I have to take something. I am not too proud to accept this netbook. No, I will never forget the Nick Cave tickets. I will not be bought. No, it does not make things better. But, I will take it, because, I get so little. Last year, I needed clothes so bad, my pants were dry rotting...and I had to beg, actually beg, for Irv to get me a few new pairs of leggings. I will not feel like a heel for accepting material objects to pacify me, because I am NOT pacified. You can throw money at me, I'll catch it, and I am still fucking angry. It's just a currency I am used to dealing in. It's shitty. I'm struggling with not feeling horrible. I'm also still crying.
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