Noel Gallagher Is A Musical Genius

I am so in love with this album. It is all I have listened to for days. It’s playing right now, as I sit here and type. If I am awake, this is playing. If I am in the car, this is playing. Straight through, it is so freaking good. Well, except for when my son is in the car with me. HIs autism makes him, we’ll call it extra focused on things, and he tends to get stuck on individual songs. Currently, the only song he’ll listen to is The Hero, by Queen. But, the point is, Noel Gallagher is like a god to me, and this album is excellent. Listen to it now, I insist.

Oasis was and is a favorite group of mine, I have loved them since the very first moment I heard them, way back in, what . . . 1995, I guess. He loves them, too. We’d been excitedly awaiting the release of this album, and now here it is. I won’t let heartbreak or sadness deprive me of something that I love, nope, I won’t do that. So that is my positive thought for the day. It might not be much, but I think every bit I manage is a step in the right direction.

There is one song I probably won’t deliberately listen to for a while, but I’m ok with that for now.


I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl

Come on, save my soul,

I need some sugar in my bowl

I ain’t foolin’

I want some sugar in my bowl

I Miss You

Our last conversation was Sunday morning. Afterwards, I sat at my computer and methodically deleted any and every thing he’d ever sent me, or I’d sent him. All the emails (letters, we called them, because according to him “email” sounded too small for what we were), all the chat transcripts, all the pictures, all the songs. Everything. It seemed like a good idea, and it probably was in theory.

But it doesn’t change the fact that all of those things are permanently seared into my brain, front and center, demanding my undivided attention. It doesn’t change the fact that I have a book he recommended on my kitchen table, or the fact that the bunny I knitted for his daughter is laying right beside it. The painting I was making for him sits on my easel, a partially finished memento of my pain and loss. It doesn’t change ANYTHING. My entire life is affected by him, the loss of him, thoughts of him, longing for him, memories of him. I miss him. Not even considering the lies, the deceit, the, yeah, the wife . . . I just miss him. He was such a huge and constant part of my life, and there is an empty place where he used to be.

I miss you.

Dan Jimenez, Adrian Jimenez, escritorio1978

Everything Reminds Me Of Him

Every single thing. A song on the radio? I wonder what he’d think about it. A beautiful spot in the sun? Visions of us holding hands, happy to be alive and together. My son’s Legos strewn across the floor? I envisioned a lasting relationship, some sort of a future with this man. My god.

All I did today was cry.

I hate this, I really do.

Dan Jimenez, Adrian Jimenez, escritorio1978