My swimming pool friend - June 2, 2008

People always ask me, "What's it like to be friends with a narcissist?"

I tell them it's like being friends with a very interesting and dynamic person who lives inside a swimming pool. They're beautiful and intelligent, and they swim, swim, swim in circles all day long 'neath ten feet of water, impressively so in their own world where they can control things and heave their weight around supernaturally, like Poseidon, or a little boy in a bathtub playing war with his GI Joe dolls. From where you're watching them, we're all obeying the laws of physics and reason, and we can empathize with each other, but through the water it's different. Everything belongs to him. Particles of matter bend to his whims. People are pawns. There's this disconnect that's often hard to swallow, but there are also times--beautiful times--my swimming pool friend comes up to the surface and chats with me as just himself...without all that crazy water.

A few days before I left Los Angeles, Tucker and I went out for lunch and a walk through Runyon Canyon with the dogs, and it was on this somewhat sunny, hot afternoon, that my swimming pool friend breached the surface for a bit.

"Bunny, do you think the financing will come through?" he asked me, taking off his shirt to make the sun come out. That's how it happens in the pool: 1) Take shirt off. 2) Make sun come out.

"Of course it will, Rilla."

Murph dashed thirty meters up the trail, spun out and laid in wait for Maxie-who trotted insouciantly, hoping to spy a pretty, long nailed lady with which to spark flirtations. Murph got tired of waiting for Maxie to return her invitation to play, and charged back down the hill, kicking up dust and debris with her signature stride. She wastes all her motion laterally, bouncing to the right and then back to the left with each lay of her paws to the dirt, not unlike a wobbly train that's about to derail, a joyous, retarded train. Tongue flopping outlandishly, she smacked into the side of Maxie and squealed. She then squatted and shat.

"Do you really think so?"
"Of course I do, Rilla. You've been on the best seller list for three fucking years. Just 'cause the media is too retarded to respect you, doesn't mean there isn't a huge market for your movie."

If you swap out "best seller list" and "movie" with other accomplishments, you can say we've been having this conversation for five years. We're both so tired of it. There was a time when we would stay up all night long and talk about our various dreams--ones involving grand pieces of art, ones involving houses on hills and lots of kids and dogs in them, ones involving justice for the people who add value to the entertainment industry, ones involving the vanquishment of the people who don't-but that sort of talk has become exhausting. Talking time is over, and has been for quite some time. Now, its walking time, and the walking is going way too slowly.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The tiny cloud that shrouded Runyon blew over Beverly Hills, and it became too bright to keep my sunglasses on my head. I slipped them down over my eyes just in time for my "special needs" dog, my Heeler, to whack me in the back of the knees, squeal, and then run off, ears flapping joyously. The way her ears flap, I sometimes imagine that her head is a retarded crow. Flap, flap, flap. So much joy in one little dog.

We stood side by side and admired the smogged layout of Los Angeles, sort of fluffy under the smoke. Little gray buildings downtown. A green square of pubic hair over Hancock park. La Brea snaking up through Hollywood. Century City. The Baldwin Hills. It all seemed as faux as my experiences within it. Had I even lived in this place? I was too tired, body and soul, to even consider it.

And as casually as can be, the real Tucker--without the water--turned to me and said, "I just...I don't know. I really don't want anyone else to have to go through what I've gone through out here with all these assholes. It's not right, and something has to be done about it. People shouldn't have to take abuse to get a project made."

"I agree, Rilla. That's very empathetic of you."

I said more about how excellent it was to see him, the narcissist, showing some empathy, just as he began to curl his forearms up and flex his pectoral muscles, his biceps, his triceps, etc. Just like that, my swimming pool friend had retreated to the depths again. He was checking himself out in my sunglasses.

"Are you...are you checking out your muscles in my glasses...in public."
"I look hot in this lighting."

So yeah. That's what it's like being friends with a narcissist. He's there, and he's not there, quick as shit.

But I'm so very proud of him, and I love him dearly. It is difficult to say how much I do without sounding crazy or pathetic. All the good analogies, metaphors and similes are used up and he's not my boyfriend, nor has he been for a great while. I'll just say that when I left Los Angeles, I gave him the greatest parting gift ever, fifty-five pounds of retarded joy. It pretty much felt like giving away my kidneys.

I miss them like hell, my "special needs" animals.

Posted by The Bunny at 12:56 AM

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Comments

bunny-

When I saw 'narcissist' in your entry, Tucker didn't even come to mind... Maxie did.

I think I read too much of your blog.

Posted by: TB at June 2, 2008 01:23 AM

"It is difficult to say how much I do without sounding crazy or pathetic."

i think it's sad that our culture is such that we equate people who are honest about how much people mean to them (which is a lot...where would any of us be without our friends?) with people who are, as you said, crazy, pathetic, or desperate. i myself know that i can write a pages long blog about things or people that annoy me, but when it comes to writing about what my closest friends mean to me, i get choked up and write a sentence.

yeah.

new reader here, been working my way through the archives and having a great time, and then i saw there was a new entry. you're a great writer, bunny, and i'm so excited to have found you :) i look forward to reading lots more great stuff (assuming that since i'm a new reader i haven't missed an important entry about how you have writer's cancer and are dying in two days and just made a giant faux pas. oops.)

Posted by: Gabrielle at June 2, 2008 03:11 AM

I've read your blog for awhile and am more than likely a 1.8 (much more a 2 than a 1, but still with some of those lack of entitlement or belonging feelings associated with "your" group). But reading that you gave away your dog made my stomach drop, that was a very tough thing to do but I'm sure you're confident that 'rilla was a good choice. And I'm sure the next time you see Murph, you'll get too witness the most excited dog in the world running at your to knock you down. It's a great feeling when they remember you after longs periods of time, good luck wherever you are.

Posted by: pn at June 2, 2008 08:00 AM

As someone who just got a dog, the concept of parting with a loyal companion like that makes me intensely sad, I hope that's a guarantee you'll stay in constant touch with Tucker.

Posted by: Surfrock66 at June 2, 2008 08:06 AM

I enjoy your writing so very much and have for quite some time.

I think it is a good idea that you have removed yourself from LA & such constant interaction with your former boyfriend. You seem to still be in love with him and if you aren't dating, I imagine that would be very painful.

You sound very sad in your past few posts. I hope I am wrong, but if I am not, I really wish you well.

Posted by: Noone at June 2, 2008 03:52 PM

Of course you mention Murph Pup and Maxie Pup...but no Kylee Mutt?! SHE'S RIGHT THERE! RIGHT IN THE FUCKING PICTURE!!! Sometimes I question your commitment to Sparkle Motion, Erin.

Posted by: KungFu Mike at June 2, 2008 04:30 PM

I'm sure I'm not the only one who's happy that you're posting so frequently, whatever dysfunctional impetus be damned.

And photos of dogs in ecstasy from simple joys like the surf are always good!

Posted by: HybridV at June 2, 2008 09:01 PM

You are so Nate and Brenda.

Posted by: Anon at June 2, 2008 11:33 PM

I'm an idiot, then--I assumed you'd only left for a day or two.
But that sure is a great parting gift. Hope Maxie doesn't miss her too much.

Posted by: Alice at June 3, 2008 12:20 AM

Ohh Bunny,
That's incredible, I'm sure both Murph Pup and her Daddy are enjoying themselves; I know you must miss them like crazy though...

Good luck with your new habitation :)

Posted by: Kraysian at June 3, 2008 07:20 AM

Bunny...It sure seems that you are going through some trying times right now, I understand. May your spirit uplift you and you become one with yourself again :)

Posted by: christina at June 3, 2008 10:44 PM

Hey,
You write beautifully, which I'm sure you've heard before. Just wanted you to know you're the reason why I decided to start blogging, too -- your writing makes it okay for girls to say what they want to say, even if it's not necessarily 'girly.' That's awesome.

Best,
Katie

Posted by: Katie at June 6, 2008 02:11 PM

My friend and I both recently read Tucker's books. She sent me a link to this blog post of yours after we had this exchange on AIM:

K: He is a charming bastard!

Me: He is; Like I said (which is referring to an AIM convo we had the night before), if he didn't have these crises of conscience I would totally, totally abhor him, but I just sit back and follow his train of thought and just know he's crazy (meaning good, fun crazy)

K: hahaha. Did you get that from one of his friends blogs?

Me: I've gotten that from reading a lot of stuff, and I like to take all the information in, whether I agree or disagree, because I don't like to make quick, reaction judgments. So it's from him (book), his friends (book), posts (message board and movie blog), etc. And some of it is more from reading the stories that are on his site that aren't in the book; I kind of like some of those better.

K: I was looking at one of his friends blog, the bunny. and it turns out she's one of his best friends, but in one of her posts that's exactly how she describes him, haha

And then she sent me the link to this post. I really love your swimming pool description.

She also sent a link to your PMS post from December 2006. I'm totally with you on all of it, especially with the Day 5. And here all this time, I just thought that was me. That's what happens when you're only around girly girls who won't speak of such things.

Posted by: Bridget at July 12, 2008 05:32 PM