Episode 18: AWKWARDSEXYTIME (Or Sexy Crunchy Music)

POTATOES! I Only Drink Holy Water. AN ODE TO EUROS. I AM SO uncomfortable. BEGRUDGING ROMANTICS. PUCK! Don’t give your power away to other people! MAKING POTATOES AU GRATIN OUT OF MY AWKWARDNESS. My bedroom voice…

EXERPT 1:

“And so it is, that I find myself again, alone in a room with my dog eating leftovers. At reckoning again, with my messy heart, my messy life. Trying to figure out where the puzzle pieces fit. Trying in vain to make sense of “the feelings” and overanalyzing every single moment of it. So what to do then? Well the irony has fully struck me, that I seem to have decided to do a radio show about my love life, when love seems to be the only thing I’m really not great at making sense of. When, mostly, I just sit alone in a room studying the nervous system, and talking to my dog. And while I seem to be naturally talented at many many other things - pretty much anything I set my mind to - I don’t seem to be naturally talented in the area of love and relationships. But do we ever really figure it out? I doubt it. Because it’s a dance between two whole separate people. That, to this day, defies all logic I seem to be able to muster. 

Now I know week before last I said I was giving up on love but you all knew I was just being dramatic.... right? I mean. Me? Give up on love? Never. But now I just begrudgingly wish love would come sweep me up in its arms and never let me go. But first I think I have some apologies to make: 

So here they are. I am sorry that I got carried away in my frustration. Not sorry I got angry. Just sorry I let it get the best of me. And, while it was a little fun, I’m solidly over it. And as Puck says at the end of Midsummer Nights Dream “if we shadows have offended think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear....” and then let’s get the heck on to the next show already. 

And you know what? I could get on the radio every week and talk about how so and so is awful and ruined my week and all that jazz…but you know what? No one has the power to ruin my week but me! And if I do that all the time, that’s giving away a lot of my power, time, and energy to someone else. And I want that alllll for myself. Rahhhhh power. No, but really. It turned out to be a beautiful week. Everything in my life is so strange and lovely and exciting and terrifying. I don’t have any more time to spend even thinking about that. And that’s real power. Really it’s in the here and now of it all that matters…."

EXERPT 2:

“In contrast. Here is I Only Drink Holy Water written about a year ago. Because It seems I never lost my flair for weaving in and out of the sexy and the dramatic and the analytical. 

I only drink holy water 

2am is for the misfits 

The searchers 

Who are you, who am I 

Remember your mind is a trap, you 

Are not your mind. You are your being, 

Your heart.

We forget.

Again, and again. 

The most fundamental truths.

They are ours to forget.

We are given a body

To learn, to free the mind from it.

We are given a heart,

To remember.

What was always known.

That we are our own.

Siempre y para todo

We are ours.

Concentric circles of grounded flight. 

A relentless push pull, 

Between waring forces.

May the force be with you.

And also,

Keep you on solid ground.

And Sundays are for the lonely,

And if you trust you don’t have to believe

That what we are given is sacred.

Sacred and profane.

Some quartered dance between the two.

Is it wrong of me to choose the profane. 

Namaste to my tongue in your mouth,

To my eager want in your indecision. 

I am the devil and you are chaste pure. 

Good thing I only drink holy water.

Sweet mother Mary,

Mary, my name.

Say it one more time for good measure.

Measured like a ruler. 

Drawn and quartered. 

With less malice than a school teacher 

and more heart than you wanted. 

Because all you bargained for was empty.

And you found me whole.

SO who are you now?

That I am no master, no servant and no temptress. 

What house will you build without me in it.

To please your god.

What god of self 

will you make your own hallowed halls

In the bosom of. 

What part of your own psyche will you worship.

Nature is beautiful when it is free.

But you will never know,

Tied to the ground by disbelief.

Disregard everything. But have faith.

Love is cheep and impermanent, 

But faith, faith wills all. 

Without it there is nothing.

And the holy water burns all the way down. 

Olivia Wade, May 24th, 2020, 2:06am

If you haven’t realized it by now, I weave constantly through terrains of the overthinking analytical and the sensory perceptive. And my answer to too much of one? Is always the other. But maybe, it’s time to just fully sink into “giving up” the search, and looking inward. For everything that I am, everything that I can become is already with me. I do not need a counterpart to be all that I am. And that’s the trick, about enjoying your own company. You don’t even have to like yourself. All you have to do is sink into the present sensory experience, and you, will disappear. And suddenly you won’t mind so much. And as I always say... Well, it’s just about getting out of my own way. That’s the name of the game here. And in order to do that, sometimes you have to set love aside for a while. And focus on the texture of grapes, crushing against your incisors. So here is some more, yummy crunchy music. And in an ode to my last poem, here is “Call Me Devil,” by Friends In Tokyo. Followed, of course, by “Devil In Me” by Purple Disco Machine. What? I’m not doing a striptease alone in my kitchen, who me, never..... 

*Olivia plays music here…

Now I know what you are thinking, like wow, this is a strange and sexy and kind of confusing show. But in reality I’m just making fun of myself a little. The truth is that I’ve been crushing on someone so hard, and because I’m like, a neurotic human, I have gotten completely twisted up in my head about it and I’ve decided that rather than just ask them if they feel anything even remotely similar to me, that my hearts had about enough rejection for this lifetime, and I am solidly, giving up. I like them so much I don’t actually want to even go there because well I currently actually feel like a sad potato. And I mean, my best friend reminded me that like, potatoes can be sexy? I mean there’s poutine, and fries, I mean fries are pretty sexy all by themselves. But let’s be frank here (not to mix my food metaphors or anything), but that’s just not the kind of potato I’m talking about. And someone today, made an allusion to even remotely being interested in that person (you know, the one I seriously can’t control the feelings I’m having about), and my immediate instinct was just to throw in the towel. Like yep. I give up. But I mean potatoes are really versatile right? I just gotta figure out how to make gratin out of my awkwardness. I mean, that’s a thing, right? But right now it looks like I’ll just be sticking to leaving the worlds most awkward voice mails, and trying very very very hard not to touch their arms too excessively. I mean, what is wrong with my brain. I’m normally the picture of elegance. As I’m sure you have realized by now.... 

So I decided I would say all of that to you in the absolute sexiest voice possible without completely bursting into hysterical laughter. How did I do? Well, regardless. There’s nothing better than mercilessly making fun of yourself to pull you out of whatever self-pity you might be sitting in. And folks, I sure make an easy target. What with all the drama, and confusion. It’s just a piece of potato pie (I couldn’t think of something cake like other than that...) So, here’s some more crunchy sexy music, because lord knows I’ve already gone there now, and no matter how defeatist I feel, maybe The Seeds will save me.... so here’s “Can’t Seem To Make You Mine,” because well, it’s crunchy, and it’s sexy, and it’s a little too on the nose of misses potato head at the moment.... 

Ok. I’m just going to stop talking now and play you the song.”