#theavalanche

[thinkibetterfollowyouaround]

Owen live at the Casbah. 9/23/21 @_mikekinsella #mikekinsella #owen #owenmusic #theavalanche @polyvinylrecords #polyvinyl #polyvinylrecords #capnjazz #americanfootball #owls #josnofarc #theirtheyrethere @casbahsandiego #casbah #casbahsd #casbahsandiego #casbahpresents #ontour #concert #concertphotography #itibfya #ithinkibetterfollowyouaround (at Casbah San Diego) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWB8MCyByj4/?utm_medium=tumblr

[carterseaton]

“i cant have my cake and fuck it too.” gosh ive been anticipating this record like crazy and im so psyched to finally have it. @_mikekinsella @polyvinylrecords #Owen #TheAvalanche #mikekinsella (at Indianapolis, Indiana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCY1hi3gQCw/?igshid=1bexbqgwx1ddi

[lukedowler]

Somethings you can’t unsee. Hopefully, they’re the kind of things you don’t want to. . #theavalanche #imgoingtomontana #themountain https://www.instagram.com/p/By_UVbghRxI/?igshid=2eq5li7m2uay

[dateandmate]

The Avalanche Part III: Body Count of One

*** Warning: Long read! ***

“These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Which as they kiss consume.

The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness

and in the taste confounds the appetite

Therefore love moderately

Long love doth so

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”

W. Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

Monday.

First day back at work, and I could not focus on doing any actual work because I simply could not wait to see him. I managed to leave a bit earlier than usual, I wanted to look good for him. I’d missed him so much, I don’t remember missing anyone so much before. I’d missed him so much, travelling back to UK from my home country felt like coming back home. Oddly. 

I found a way to leave a little earlier than usual, took a quick shower to be at my best when I see him, and started waiting for his arrival. As he was coming up the stairs, my heart was beating like a drum. A drum madly in love.

I had one of the biggest smiles I ever had as he was walking down the corridor - not entirely reciprocated by him. Love does hinder your ability to see things as they are sometimes, you see, so I just assumed he had a bad day at work.

He gave me a peck. A peck, after 3 weeks, after my surgery and all. Light-heartedly, but slightly puzzled, “Can I get a hug?”, I asked. He hugged me, with a “Sorry...” swiftly muttered as he did. 

We sat on the sofa, talked about our days briefly, I told him how much I missed him, we kissed a little. “I’m quite hungy, do you want to go an eat something?” he asked. “OK” I said and we left.

He was…different over dinner. I could not put my finger on it but it almost felt like he was not happy to see me. He had a sad look on his face. I remember asking if everything was ok at work, with his mum, with his brother who had some stuff going on. He said all was fine. As I do, I filled in the gaps with blabbering. He was holding my hand across the table the whole time, but that’s sad look never faded.

We finished dinner and went home, started watching something. All I could think about was kissing him, and more. Now here I have to say that we had this thing where we could hardly finish watching something, the chemistry was wild. Add three weeks apart on top of that, and what I felt was a ticking bomb. 

This was a time where he was looking for a new house to buy. He’d grown up with a single mum in a village, but then had lived in multiple places in the country for his studies and work. Including London which he was not fond of. At the time he was living in one of the nicest towns in Yorkshire but dreamt of settling in in a village with his wife and kids one day. Even his town was too big for him. His business would always need to be in a big city as he was one of the founding partners of an agency, but he wanted to live as far away from the city life as he could. Now this city where his work was isn’t one of the top three cities in UK so don’t imagine something like the jungle that London is. But for him it was still big, He had made this very clear to me and he also knew I grew up in a big city and the city we met in, whilst being too big for him, wasn’t doing enough for me. I lacked inspiration, arts and culture, and diversity there. I felt alone. I struggled. In a few conversations we’d had, this came up and he’d expressed it loud and clear that it makes him worry that what we want in life was so different. I’d tried to calm him down by saying that bridge could be crossed when we get there, and that I was open to compromise but only 5 months in and at the risk of unemployment due to the reorganisation in my company, I’d rather manage expectations. All I’d asked was time and understanding. I’d told him the work thing is messing with my head as I never had a risk of unemployment and my sheer existence in UK depended on that work visa. And I was in love for the first time in my life. It was very confusing and difficult.

As we were chatting on the couch, he started to show me the houses he was looking into. I did not want to assume anything and was trying to be objective and not say much on either because I did not think I got to have a say in the house he wanted to buy. He muttered something like, this potentially being his family house (they were all in a village in the same county) but he was not sure what or who he is really buying for, as he wasn’t on the verge of starting a family. He was one of the smartest, most articulate people I ever met, to this day, and he sounded rather confused and distracted by his own thoughts. I felt a big lump settle in my throat. The uneasy feeling was growing. This wasn’t how I’d imagine this evening to feel like.

After a while, in a moment of utter confusion and silence, he started kissing me. As they usually do, things heated up and we went to the bedroom. It was... affectionate, caring, but also different. He was always very gentle with me and that night felt even gentler. As we went to sleep, I tried to comfort him regarding the questions in his head, and thought we’re still ok although we might need another conversation on this.

When we woke up in the morning, I snuggled up to him. Once again, he started kissing me and one thing led to another. I remember this very well. right in the middle of it, he took my face in his hands and stopped for a while. He had a look on his face that I’d never seen before. A little sad, but caring. I asked why he’s looking at me like that, he shook his head and just kissed me. We took a shower, got dressed and left together. As we were waking in the neighbourhood, he held my hand, the whole time, as usual. I remember trying to tell myself everything’s ok, there we were, like we used to be. There was a little coffee shop in the corner where I used to get coffee from sometimes. He said he will get one in the office, gave me a quick peck as usual as he walked away to work.

About 10 minutes later, I received a text saying: “By the way, remember when you were away I’d told you I wanted to express my thoughts and feelings in writing? I actually did that. Left the envelope on your coffee table just before we left. Read it and we can talk this evening.”.

I found it really weird that he’d spend the night with me and never mention it. Then sneak into the living room and leave it there. If I did not ave an important meeting, I swear I would have turned back to read it. That day was like hell. I was dying to read it, but also thought we should talk about it in person. So I called him in the afternoon and said, I’ll read it in the evening but I’d rather talk about it in person. He said he was working from home that day (a different town). I don’t mind, I said, I’ll take the 25 min train ride to talk about something as important as this - all the while having no idea what was waiting for me in that envelope. His concerns about the future and where we are, I thought. I was expecting a difficult conversation but a break up was definitely not what I thought was on the cards.

I went home and read the letter, Posting it here, although I might regret creating a rather permanent memory of it in the online universe by doing that. It took me more than 2 years to be able to write about it, so I could as well bid farewell to this story completely, even if I can’t make peace with it.

I felt... empty. Everything I’d believed was possible about love, was sucked out of me all at once. Things that I never used to define myself, like religion (I’m agnostic), or nationality (I always say we’re born into it and I don’t take any pride or shame in it), were used to label me, limit me to an idea of a person rather than a real one, by the only person I ever fell in love with.

I read it over and over again, not being able to comprehend how the liberal, left-wing, modern man I fell in love with, who had expressed his admiration of my independent, feminist, strong identity, saying it was one of the things he fell for when it comes to me, could be so narrow-minded and borderline racist, condescending me and my culture and my status because he feared he would have to make 10% of the compromise as I made 90%. I was upset, caught off-guard, and shocked, but thought we could talk about this as I still wouldn’t have imagine this could be the end. So I sat down and made a list about what matters to me in life. Made a list about what I like about the city I was in at the time. Thought about my time with him, how he made me feel. And decided, while I’m an idealist and my life plans are important to me, for the first time in my life, I’d be open to compromise because he made me feel the way he did make me feel. This was a difficult confrontation with myself - one I’d avoided for a long time. The thought process that got me to this conclusion wasn’t a walk in the park. It took thinking about everything I hold dearly in this life and accepting that I’d have to let some of that go.

He texted me to ask if we could speak in half an hour. I said OK.

After half an hour that felt like a week, my phone rang.

He asked what I think about it all.

I said some of the things I’d read were very difficult for me to read and I still could not believe it was written down by the same hands that were on me that morning. That hugged me. That held my face.

I also explained how I was scared by the idea of it all but was ready to compromise, also reminding him it was too early to have these conversations about the children we don’t have, raised in a house he had not bought yet, nurtured by a marriage that wasn’t in the horizon yet.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” he said, “if I’d met you 5 yers ago, believe me, we would not have any of this conversation. But I’m 37, and call me rigid, but I always dreamt of being married with a baby in my arms by 40. Every Christmas, I look back and reflect on the year I had and this year, it made me uncomfortable and panicky. You know how quickly I fell for you and I don’t want it to end in disappointment when 2 years from now you either decide you don’t want to live here anymore or are forced to leave.”

I cannot tell you how much it hurts by being reminded of your immigrant status by the person you love.

This gave me leeway to mentioning the bit about the culture. Not that I was obsessed with the culture of my homeland - and he knew this very well, from date number one - but what made his better than mine? Who was he to say I’m incapable of singing English nursery rhymes?! Was he aware of how ridiculous it is that we’re talking about which language I would sing to our imaginary children? How hard it was to be reminded that I was a ‘visitor’ here, especially at a time where my employment and hence my legal allowance to stay was at stake? Did he realise that he sounded like a secret right-wing xenophobe? That I was hurt by being reduced to the labels I’d been trying to distance myself from this whole time? He apologised multiple times. Saying he may have expressed himself slightly incorrectly. Suggesting I knew him and knew he wasn’t racist or xenophobic. “I don’t care”, I said, “and to be honest I don’t even know what you are anymore. This letter is hurtful and regardless of how this conversation ends, I cannot believe you were able to to this to anyone.”.

I also reminded him that I insisted talking about this face to face. “I know” he said, “and I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to sit there, look at your face and tell you these things. I know it sounds cowardly but I did not think I’d be able to compose myself.”. I reminded him of his age, and said that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

When I questioned his sudden revelation regarding my foreign roots, I asked him if deep down, he was willing to be in a serious relationship with a foreigner. That thing about the culture and how our children would be raised, had nothing to do with my life plans and whether I was OK to live in a village in Northern England. Even in that last phone conversation, he was still trying to validate his reasons by talking about me having to go through an exhaustive process to get the citizenship even if I marry a British citizen, and that had nothing to do with me having a career and wanting to succeed, or having my own aspirations in life. That was about my identity. These were things that had a direct relation to my heritage that he was not comfortable with. Was he able to comprehend what a long term relationship, or a marriage with me would be like? Splitting holidays, potentially learning some of my language to communicate with relatives, etc... Now for me, being with someone from a different culture is interesting, exciting, enriching. I did not think he felt the same way. After a pause, and to my surprise, he said “You know what? I noticed I never had to think about that until you. I only ever dated British women. And when I had to think about it, long and hard, I noticed... Maybe I wasn’t indeed ready for that.”.

Well good morning. Wish you knew this before you pampered me as much as you did, expressed your infatuation, how you were smitten with me, how you lost all control, how you were keen to talk about the future, and before I fell for you, hard.

After a bit of an awkward silence, and around the 1.5hr mark of the conversation, he said that we both had received new information. I had no idea he had a break up in mind, and he had no idea I’d be open to compromise. He suggested we sleep on it, and talk again the next day. “Face to face?” I said, knowing a break up was on the cards, “I’m sorry, he said, I don’t think I can. But let’s check back in tomorrow.”. 

I cried for the next 3 hours, until my eyes were so tired the only reasonable thing to do was to go to bed. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to sleep much. My pillow was still wet from the tears the next morning. I woke up, I cried before I could get myself to get up. I had this sinking feeling that it was unsalvageable. On the bus to work, I cried a little more. Had to run to the bathroom multiple times that day to cry in the toilet cubicle. Called a close friend, told her about it, she tried to comfort me with all her optimism. “It’s over”, I said to her. “I feel it.”

That evening we talked a little more, and I told him, while he knows very well how strongly I felt about him, the fact that he was able to write those things and do this to me, leaving a letter with the intent to break up when he’s had sex with me in my bed that morning, made me question if I really knew him.

I said everything that I thought was hurtful the day before, was even more hurtful today, the more I thought about them. I asked him if anything changed regarding his position. He mumbled it had not, and suggested we end it there, but said he was open to answer any questions from me or talk more about it.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you”, I said. “This was a slap in the face. You can’t force life, you can’t force love, you can’t force marriage. You can’t lay out every single detail of your life and try to find a woman that’ll shift shapes to fit into that template. Oh you probably can, but those women are not the women you’re attracted to. I still wish you the best, I wish I could curse or be hateful, but I choose not to. But know that I am very upset, shocked, and disappointed. And please, I beg you, please, don’t do this to anyone else. If you’re walking away from someone you’d given high hopes to, at least have the balls to talk to them face to face, like a man of your age and calibre should. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, I’ve run out of things to say.”

He apologised again, interrupting as I said a apology doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m still interested in your life and would like to know how you get on, so maybe after a while, I could see you?..” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry, no. I don’t need you as a friend, and I can’t have you as a friend. A friend would never do this to me. And it’s too hard for me to even talk to you right now.”

We hung up.

I don’t know how I made it to the next morning. I did not have a single moment of sleep and could hardly stop crying. I did not know a human being could cry as much,

I don’t remember much about the days that followed either. I was a ghost. I was the shell of what I used to be.

2 weeks later, he was back on Bumble. Because he had no time to lose.

A few months, he already had a new relationship and had made it official on Facebook. So it must have started straight after me.

There, the story of me falling in love for the first time ever, and being dumped with a letter. A letter that mentioned Brexit when I’m a non-EU immigrant. A letter that questioned my ability to sing nursery rhymes in English. A letter that suggested I would not be able to celebrate Christmas (I love Christmas). A letter that was full of rubbish excuses from someone who just did not have the ball to face life and all the bumps it would throw my way, with me.

The snowball, had caused an avalanche, and swept me into my own little hell, as he moved onto his paradise with the next girl and somehow, was able to sleep comfortably after being so vile to someone.

[rawrtransformations]

Jazzzzz handssss. . What an awesome evening for Jazz in Courtenay at the avalanche. . #adayinthelife #jazz #theavalanche #drums #keys #jazzhands #jazzlegends #blues #drummer #pianist #movin #groovin #keys #jazzclub #headbobbin #toetapping #fingersnapping (at Courtenay, British Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoQwnpfhdh2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=f4pvba07gkr7

[odearme]

#nomansland from #theavalanche album #sufjamfever @asthmatickittyrecords East coast late nighters and western less sleepy people I salute you!* *(with my booty)! To me, butts and jiggly flesh are just about the silliest and therefore the most grounding thing. Everyone's got a butt and some form of gut. Hee hee, it's so nice to let our body relax and feel comfortable. (((I am grateful for my safety and my freedom of expression; please, I give of myself in peace and fun, please wish me safe passage as I parade my body and my thoughts))) Probably gonna archive this before I fall asleep. Experimenting with physical filters to blur my shape enough to pass this platform's filters for decency. #isthismania or is this me not being stuck inside myself? Or simply finally feeling better from being sick all week and my basement room no longer being flooded, hot, and in chaos? It's only 2:28 am on an early Saturday morning and I feel pretty gosh darn sane. So much still to learn; thank goodness life isn't boring.

[astrodextro-blog]

#Repost @biodunfatoyinbo (@get_repost) ・・・ SPECIAL INVITATION Come join us as we celebrate JESUS the reason for the season! Ring the bells, Sound the alarm and tell everyone you know! It’s going to be an amazing time! SAVE THE DATE: 17/12/2017 —-> 5pm #ChristmasConcert #TheAvalanche #TheGratitude #TheMakarios

[eprecious]

SPECIAL INVITATION Come join us as we celebrate JESUS the reason for the season! Ring the bells, Sound the alarm and tell everyone you know! It’s going to be an amazing time! SAVE THE DATE: 17/12/2017 —-> 5pm #ChristmasConcert #TheAvalanche #TheGratitude #TheMakarios (at Federal Capital Territory, Nigeria)