6) JELLY

There was a woman.

Having been married for 25 years and hustling to not get evicted (again ) I was in no hurry to find a steady gal. I dated a little, some wonderful people, but it was best that I didn't take on anything 24/7. It wouldn't be fair to anyone, there was no time. And not a lot of extra cash. I was hired to play a house concert in Sacramento California. The hostess was a big fan, even had a lizard named Hamell. I played a lot of house concerts back then. It was an ideal situation for me cuz sometimes you have to play noisy bars and I inevitably get them to shut up but it's a pain in the ass and with house concerts they're there to be quiet and listen to the music. No distractions. And these daze when you have to pay the doorman and the soundman and the first $250 goes to the house, house concerts are awesome cuz you get all the cheese. And sometimes accomodations. For you and the kid. And grub maybe.

Anyway the woman flew me out, picked me up at the airport, took me to lunch, very nice, she had seen me open for Ani a bunch, as I said a big fan. I vaguely remember her telling me about her best friend. I took a nap at her house. I had slept at LaGuardia the night prior and airports do everything in their power to make things as uncomfortable for you as they can. I'd like to meet the person that designed the modern airport. I'd like to kick them in the nuts. So I probably hadn't slept much. When I woke up some people were arriving. I saw this woman, Jelly, the hostess' s best friend and it was love at first sight. For real. No one was more surprised than me. There was a food table and she was helping herself to the salami with her fingers. I told her she shouldn't do that as it was unsanitary and then of course grabbed a bunch of salami with my fingers. Somehow that morphed into her search for French pop to play at the cafe where she worked as a barista. I grabbed my laptop and showed her Serge Gainsborough. The gig went well. The toilet exploded at one point but the hostess got her husband to take care of it quietly. Later when I was  sitting and talking with this Jelly about all kinds of things for hours I had a very articulate debate in my head. I really don't think I'd ever had such an overt internal dialogue. I was falling hopelessly in love. A feeling, frankly, that I hadn't felt in years. A feeling that I didn't think I'd ever feel again. And while one voice in my head was all giddy with the, 'Oh my God, this euphoria! Look at her! Listen to her! Jaysus I want to hold her', the other voice was saying, 'Are you out of your fucking mind?? She's married. She has a six year old daughter, a 17 year old daughter from a previous marriage and she lives completely across the country from you! Anything further would be stupidity bordering on insanity.' Her marriage was in the shitter. She was trying to get him into therapy but he wouldn't go. The older daughter had stole a piece of jewelry from him at 12. A harmless kid's prank. He didn't talk to her for 5 years. When I heard that I figured this guy was such a dick, marriage or not this was fair game now. I could pursue it. Fuck the voice of reason in my head. I walked her to her car. I told her, 'You and I could have a LOT of fun.' I thought I might ask if she wanted to kiss but I didn't want to blow it. I thought about her all night.

The next day I told the hostess' s hungover husband, 'I fell in love with that girl Jelly last night'  He believed me. I had them take me to the airport early, I wanted out of their hair and I had some work to do. Jelly wouldn't give me her phone number, she said it was inappropriate. I must have pm'ed her on Facebook cuz she responded. I told her I was hanging at the airport for about five hours and if she came down I'd buy her a cup of coffee, being a barista she probably liked coffee. She texted back, 'I would if I could but it's my daughter's sixth birthday party.' My heart jumped. I WOULD IF I COULD. I knew I was in.

So began a five year tryst. Talking on the phone everyday. Then me flying out again a few months later, her picking me up at the airport. The first time at the motel. She visited my place in New York a bunch. She had never flown by herself.  This was a woman in her 40's. She grew to love it. There was a lot of stuff she hadn't done before actually that she grew to love and indeed we had a lot of fun. I understand how difficult it is to leave a marriage. It was not my idea to split up with my wife Linda. Even as heartbreaking as that was, in my more generous and secure moments I had to admire her for doing it. Couldn't have been easy. There was a kid, Detroit. Shared family, possessions, memories. Jelly would promise to leave him, she'd give me a date. The deadline would pass. We'd stop talking for a few weeks. I couldn't stand it. I missed the 'Good morning sweetheart ' text I'd receive every day. We'd resume.

My ex-wife Linda, Detroit's mother, is a class act. I now think one of the greatest things to happen to me in my life was marrying her. Another great thing was divorcing her. She was right, it had run it's course. She was a good one to co-parent with. Lots of integrity and now a good friend. She raised an eyebrow at my girlfriend living in the same house and the husband not talking to the step daughter, especially at that crucial age for five years thing. Gave me the, 'It's none of my business but watch yourself', look. The way Christmas would work when Detroit believed in Santa was Linda, Detroit,  Nikki, Linda's niece she was bringing up cuz her brother is a brain dead screwball and I would go to Rockefeller Center Christmas Eve and see the tree and then eat at some upscale joint around there, hopefully with linen tablecloths. Then Detroit would sleep at her house, ( legally he lived with me cuz zip codes and schools. She lived 20 minutes north) and  I'd be there in the morning to see him wake and open gifts and then we'd go back to our place to see if Santa has stopped there. Santa never let us down. So a few years back when Detroit no longer believed in Santa Linda said that this year her boyfriend was going to go instead of me. I met him once, seems like a good guy. Never tried to be Detroit's dad so he was cool with me. Had he been some rich guy flying him to Cancun every weekend it woulda sucked. They had been together for a long time, it was only fair. Jelly would often disappear on the weekends. The husband and kids were home, it was hard to get away. Holidays she was completely gone. Plus I think all the lying and sneaking around were getting to her as well. I was hearing from her less. She had cancelled the last flight and I suspected she was lying to me as to why. So now I'm alone on Christmas. How in the fuck did this happen? Haven't heard from Jelly and so fuck it I call this roller derby woman I know. Seen her at shows for 20 years. From Slovenia. Crazy hot. 'You celebrate Christmas?' 'Nope' she says. 'You still got the boyfriend?' 'We're fighting.'. 'You wanna hang out?' 'I'll catch the next train up.' 'Cool. Merry Christmas '. We hung for a few months. Hung at Dick Manitoba's joint in the city a lot playing air hockey. Vegan. Drinker. Lots of ink. ( Jelly too) Personal trainer jetting around NYC on a scooter. And nursing school. Smart and beautiful. She was probably just using me to piss off her boyfriend but I had some issues in that department myself and I paraphrase the words of the great sage Bob Seger, 'I used her, she used me, neither of us gave a shit '. I felt horribly guilty nonetheless. I felt like I was cheating. To some extent I couldn't understand my actions, it was mostly lust with the roller derby woman, although I liked her a lot. But I would lay my head on the pillow at night and say out loud.'I love Jelly.' Jelly interpreted it as a major betrayal and completely withdrew. We didn't speak for months. She left her husband. She got a new job training incarcerated women to be barista's. Righteous work. She ended up blocking me when I repeatedly tried to reunite. Although, for awhile, as stated earlier, she would drunk dial me and say the things she used to say.

The first couple lines in the song used to be, 'Remember put him in a tent, remember shitting in my car'. I changed them intentionally for radio play. The first line refers to an outdoor festival I played in Seattle. Jelly had flown out, came to that festival with me. Good crowd, lots of families camping etc. The promoter had hired me specifically to do my thing. I asked him if he wanted me to edit cuz of the kids he laughed 'No, no, I know what you do, do your thing'. Okay. So the kids are singing along with 'Fuck it, why go halfway?!' Everyone is having a good time but of course at the end while I'm packing my gear some father with a kid riding on his shoulders comes up to the stage and starts giving me shit about exposing his son to my language. So I screamed, 'Put him in a tent!' Jelly thought that was the funniest shit she ever heard. Howled. She said it randomly for months. Then one time I was taking her to the airport. We had just eaten at a local diner. She started complaining about stomach cramps. I thought she might be starting her period. Then she screamed and threw her bag in the back seat and jumped back there. The poor thing. She had a plastic bag. She didn't spill a drop. We got to the airport five minutes later. She was mortified. She was crying. Laughing, but crying too. She deposited the bag in a trash can, kissed me goodbye and rolled her little luggage thing into the airport. She told me later that she thought it was over. I didn't really give a shit, pun intended, but I felt bad for her. But I have wondered, in retrospect, if that was an unconscious effort on her part to end things. The deceipt in suburbia was taking it's toll. And yes, she did ask me three minutes into The Warriors if it was a documentary. And she had never seen Casablanca. Can you imagine?

The lovely Ruth Theodore joins me on this one, recording her parts at her place in Winchester England above a pub. I play in the basement sometimes, a cool listening room. There's a grave from the 1600's down there too. That's where I met Ruth. The strings are Emily Hope Price. She did a bang up job especially since the only direction I gave her was, 'Think 1812 overture'. I've never met her either but she also seems like she's biking around Manhattan on her way to a classical music gig all the time as well. She was recommended by my pal Franz Nicolai from The Hold Steady and Against Me among others. A spectacular job. It probably doesn't sound anything like The Cure to you but I was totally ripping off Robert Smith. He'd know. Does he want a check? Tell him to get in line.