Don't Fall in Love with Everyone You See
Don't Fall in Love with Everyone You See
683 // PG
Conor Oberst/Ryan Adams
for may 05 07.
Title taken from an Okkervil River album of the same name.
More than anything, Conor needs to believe in himself again. He can have all the critical praise in the world, and a new album that's selling well, and seven consecutive nights playing at Town Hall, but none of it makes any difference. His life doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Actually, the only thing that makes sense is wanting Ryan.
He remembers meeting Ryan two winters ago, at a bar in the East Village, introduced by friends of friends. Conor was drunk and loved the way Ryan punctuated all of his sentences with a smile. Conor thought Ryan was beautiful, but he wasn't sure if he thought that because he was drunk or genuinely attracted to the other man. They talked about music and New York, and Ryan mentioned seeing one of Conor's shows.
"I saw you play once," Ryan said. "At Irving Plaza. I left the show feeling... I don't know. I felt a lot of things, but I remember being scared by the intensity of everything, of the way you were on stage."
Conor wasn't paying attention to everything Ryan was saying, so he just grinned and repeated, "Intensity."
Ryan laughed -- Conor wanted to hear that laugh over and over -- and said, "Yeah. I feel things really, okay, I'll use the word again, intensely, when I hear music, especially when I hear it live and see it being performed. Like I have a connection or something."
Conor nodded and sipped his beer. He squinted and looked at Ryan. "You seem like the kind of person who would react that way."
"I do?"
"Yes. Maybe it's because you're so inarticulate when you talk about the way music makes you feel." Conor smiled after he spoke. He didn't want Ryan to think he was being rude.
Ryan shrugged, and Conor thought he detected an eye-roll. "I know I'm not always well-spoken."
"I like that."
The night ended forty-five minutes later, after Conor told Ryan he loved him. Ryan greeted this announcement with a bewildered look and stated matter-of-factly that Conor was very, very drunk. They left before last call, but not together. Ryan made sure Conor got in a cab, and discreetly slipped Conor his phone number. And Conor really didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know if Ryan was interested in dating him, worried about him, or wanted to be his friend.
They became friends, but Conor always thought there was something more whenever they spent time together. A little glint in Ryan’s eye, a kiss on the cheek, the way Ryan’s faced flushed that time their fingertips brushed against each other. And one day, because of tour schedules and recording, they stopped spending time together. They e-mailed back and forth, but not regularly. Conor always wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t gotten so busy. Would they be together now? He’s embarrassed by the thought, but he wonders what it would have been like to wake up to Ryan. He imagines blue eyes, fingers trickling over pale skin, and kisses underneath the covers.
Conor hasn't seen Ryan in a while -- he can't pinpoint how long it's been -- but he's heard from mutual friends that Ryan has gotten his shit together. No alcohol, no drugs, regular AA meetings. Conor is impressed; even though he's cut back considerably himself, he's nowhere near sober. He’s curious about what Ryan is like now that he’s not drinking. Probably exactly the same.
On his flight to Omaha, Conor couldn't stop thinking about Ryan. They get to see each other tonight. Seeing Ryan wasn’t the purpose of this trip (it's for Team Love business and also to see old friends), but when he saw that Ryan’s tour schedule matched up with his trip to Omaha, he got excited. It kind of blows Conor's mind how things work out and connect like this.
He's sitting in his brother's apartment, pondering why Ryan has even been on his mind. Conor can't settle on the idea that he's been thinking of Ryan just because. There always must be a reason for everything.
683 // PG
Conor Oberst/Ryan Adams
for may 05 07.
Title taken from an Okkervil River album of the same name.
More than anything, Conor needs to believe in himself again. He can have all the critical praise in the world, and a new album that's selling well, and seven consecutive nights playing at Town Hall, but none of it makes any difference. His life doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Actually, the only thing that makes sense is wanting Ryan.
He remembers meeting Ryan two winters ago, at a bar in the East Village, introduced by friends of friends. Conor was drunk and loved the way Ryan punctuated all of his sentences with a smile. Conor thought Ryan was beautiful, but he wasn't sure if he thought that because he was drunk or genuinely attracted to the other man. They talked about music and New York, and Ryan mentioned seeing one of Conor's shows.
"I saw you play once," Ryan said. "At Irving Plaza. I left the show feeling... I don't know. I felt a lot of things, but I remember being scared by the intensity of everything, of the way you were on stage."
Conor wasn't paying attention to everything Ryan was saying, so he just grinned and repeated, "Intensity."
Ryan laughed -- Conor wanted to hear that laugh over and over -- and said, "Yeah. I feel things really, okay, I'll use the word again, intensely, when I hear music, especially when I hear it live and see it being performed. Like I have a connection or something."
Conor nodded and sipped his beer. He squinted and looked at Ryan. "You seem like the kind of person who would react that way."
"I do?"
"Yes. Maybe it's because you're so inarticulate when you talk about the way music makes you feel." Conor smiled after he spoke. He didn't want Ryan to think he was being rude.
Ryan shrugged, and Conor thought he detected an eye-roll. "I know I'm not always well-spoken."
"I like that."
The night ended forty-five minutes later, after Conor told Ryan he loved him. Ryan greeted this announcement with a bewildered look and stated matter-of-factly that Conor was very, very drunk. They left before last call, but not together. Ryan made sure Conor got in a cab, and discreetly slipped Conor his phone number. And Conor really didn’t know what to make of that. He didn’t know if Ryan was interested in dating him, worried about him, or wanted to be his friend.
They became friends, but Conor always thought there was something more whenever they spent time together. A little glint in Ryan’s eye, a kiss on the cheek, the way Ryan’s faced flushed that time their fingertips brushed against each other. And one day, because of tour schedules and recording, they stopped spending time together. They e-mailed back and forth, but not regularly. Conor always wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t gotten so busy. Would they be together now? He’s embarrassed by the thought, but he wonders what it would have been like to wake up to Ryan. He imagines blue eyes, fingers trickling over pale skin, and kisses underneath the covers.
Conor hasn't seen Ryan in a while -- he can't pinpoint how long it's been -- but he's heard from mutual friends that Ryan has gotten his shit together. No alcohol, no drugs, regular AA meetings. Conor is impressed; even though he's cut back considerably himself, he's nowhere near sober. He’s curious about what Ryan is like now that he’s not drinking. Probably exactly the same.
On his flight to Omaha, Conor couldn't stop thinking about Ryan. They get to see each other tonight. Seeing Ryan wasn’t the purpose of this trip (it's for Team Love business and also to see old friends), but when he saw that Ryan’s tour schedule matched up with his trip to Omaha, he got excited. It kind of blows Conor's mind how things work out and connect like this.
He's sitting in his brother's apartment, pondering why Ryan has even been on his mind. Conor can't settle on the idea that he's been thinking of Ryan just because. There always must be a reason for everything.