Second glass of wine. Two separate bottles. I feel this more than I do shots or mixed drinks. My mind has quieted enough to paint this screen. I've wanted to write several times tonight, but my head wasn't there.
Lanny called me a few minutes ago. He had me talking to someone named John at the bar. I wish I was there. I type that and put my head down to my forearm and think in darkness that the wish is somthing that is only real when I make plans to pursue the dream. Like a degree. Like a friendship. Like anytyhing.
Most people drink to forget. But I drink and I remember. I'm heavy now. I'm typing to friends & strangers. I wonder if I'll remember any dreams. I know I must go there now. I know I must turn this off. I know I must.
Believe me when I say I love so deeply that it is an art.
Friday, March 21, 2003
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
When I want you...
9:32pm
Last night I drove to Mark's place in Long Beach after work so that we could watch "The Ring." It was very good and I'm sorry I missed out seeing it in the theater. I caught him up with my weekend and he reiterated to me that this is the perfect time (again) for me to quit working and go back to school full-time. Take out student loans and just "do it." I've been looking online at the loan process. I don't know that I want a B.A. that bad or soon to live the life of a starving student at 28. It's definitely something that is occupying space in the brain; one of those background programs constantly running.
Lanny in my head. Another background program that jets to the front and I have to consciously push back or my mind won't work.
War. yeah yeah whatever.
LSAT mock test this Saturday.
I spoke to Bryan online earlier and he and Aaron will be in San Diego this Saturday while I'm down there. Wes mentioned he might be in Orange County but that I could stay at his place. It's strange...the moment Lanny comes back and we start to seriously talk again it's like any other sexual escapades and/or relationship potentials are closed in my mind. I know what it is. It's that part of him and that part of me that always believed we would spend our lives together with one person. It's the dream that still lives inside of us. It's what makes him confused and cling to Shane. I'm not saying that there aren't real feelings there, because I think there are. I know he loves Shane. I know that I'm a memory of love and that I'm actually in the shadow of something greater and more immediate that I can't compete with here in California. Still... I dream.
I saw Ryan Harris at The Boom on Saturday. I don't think he thought I recognized him, but I did. (I was just very blurred due to shots) I was also in a daze being with Lanny. I'm serious. It's like the whole romantic world outside of him is just a forest of people that are there as scenery. Beautiful scenery, but nothing more.
A poem that Holly wrote years ago had a line that says, "The blue moon gazed inscrutably down that night." (I think that's the line) The moon has been tremendously huge the past few days. It seems to be so close that you can reach out and touch it while hanging in the air; So close that the textures of the different landscapes are clearly visible. Like he's so close that I still feel him when I close my eyes.
Last night I drove to Mark's place in Long Beach after work so that we could watch "The Ring." It was very good and I'm sorry I missed out seeing it in the theater. I caught him up with my weekend and he reiterated to me that this is the perfect time (again) for me to quit working and go back to school full-time. Take out student loans and just "do it." I've been looking online at the loan process. I don't know that I want a B.A. that bad or soon to live the life of a starving student at 28. It's definitely something that is occupying space in the brain; one of those background programs constantly running.
Lanny in my head. Another background program that jets to the front and I have to consciously push back or my mind won't work.
War. yeah yeah whatever.
LSAT mock test this Saturday.
I spoke to Bryan online earlier and he and Aaron will be in San Diego this Saturday while I'm down there. Wes mentioned he might be in Orange County but that I could stay at his place. It's strange...the moment Lanny comes back and we start to seriously talk again it's like any other sexual escapades and/or relationship potentials are closed in my mind. I know what it is. It's that part of him and that part of me that always believed we would spend our lives together with one person. It's the dream that still lives inside of us. It's what makes him confused and cling to Shane. I'm not saying that there aren't real feelings there, because I think there are. I know he loves Shane. I know that I'm a memory of love and that I'm actually in the shadow of something greater and more immediate that I can't compete with here in California. Still... I dream.
I saw Ryan Harris at The Boom on Saturday. I don't think he thought I recognized him, but I did. (I was just very blurred due to shots) I was also in a daze being with Lanny. I'm serious. It's like the whole romantic world outside of him is just a forest of people that are there as scenery. Beautiful scenery, but nothing more.
A poem that Holly wrote years ago had a line that says, "The blue moon gazed inscrutably down that night." (I think that's the line) The moon has been tremendously huge the past few days. It seems to be so close that you can reach out and touch it while hanging in the air; So close that the textures of the different landscapes are clearly visible. Like he's so close that I still feel him when I close my eyes.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
These Dreams...
"These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away"
-These Dreams by Heart
And as soon as it began, it's over. Another chapter; short story; episodic poem. It's a short week at work, four days for me. I watch the time on my cell phone go by and know that he'll shortly be on a plane going back to that place where his life awaits. As he said, I am the fairytale. I'm not real. I'm just that dream somewhere out in time that can't be touched too much or loved too much because what pain it is to be ripped away again. 2-5-2007. February 5th, 2007, a bottle of wine, time, some flowers and a real kiss that might endure the rest of the years to come. That's the real fairytale.
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside
Every moment I'm awake the further I'm away"
-These Dreams by Heart
And as soon as it began, it's over. Another chapter; short story; episodic poem. It's a short week at work, four days for me. I watch the time on my cell phone go by and know that he'll shortly be on a plane going back to that place where his life awaits. As he said, I am the fairytale. I'm not real. I'm just that dream somewhere out in time that can't be touched too much or loved too much because what pain it is to be ripped away again. 2-5-2007. February 5th, 2007, a bottle of wine, time, some flowers and a real kiss that might endure the rest of the years to come. That's the real fairytale.
Saturday, March 15, 2003
White gray builds smokey darkness
3:42pm
Lanny is on a plane right now. He arrives at LAX sometime after 6pm. Life doesn't stop. It's a road that twists, turns, is long and straight and boring for long periods of time; it turns to dirt, you get stuck in the mud, sometimes you have to put chains on your tires to make it through the snow. I'm very excited to see him. I think the circumstances around him being here set a scene that is complex. His emotions for Shane. My moving on from Randy. The muddle of our past together. I see this as being similar to the first weekend with Josh, however, this would be more difficult because it would open doors in my heart that have been locked.
So there's always friendship. Keep it simple and clear. I think that's the grown up in my head shining through this rainy day. It's a beautiful dense, gray sky crying down to fertilize us. I fell asleep in my car last night. I drank too much and couldn't drive. I don't remember falling asleep, only locking my doors. I was crying on the phone with Lanny. I think I told him I was afraid of seeing him after all this time. My eyes just had a sensation circulating all around the outside thinking about telling him that. I'm warm. (Not heat flashes, just warm.)
Hmmm... no one else would know about my heat flashes except Randy. That line above really wouldn't make sense to anyone else but he and I. Glossy eyed now.
Lanny is on a plane right now. He arrives at LAX sometime after 6pm. Life doesn't stop. It's a road that twists, turns, is long and straight and boring for long periods of time; it turns to dirt, you get stuck in the mud, sometimes you have to put chains on your tires to make it through the snow. I'm very excited to see him. I think the circumstances around him being here set a scene that is complex. His emotions for Shane. My moving on from Randy. The muddle of our past together. I see this as being similar to the first weekend with Josh, however, this would be more difficult because it would open doors in my heart that have been locked.
So there's always friendship. Keep it simple and clear. I think that's the grown up in my head shining through this rainy day. It's a beautiful dense, gray sky crying down to fertilize us. I fell asleep in my car last night. I drank too much and couldn't drive. I don't remember falling asleep, only locking my doors. I was crying on the phone with Lanny. I think I told him I was afraid of seeing him after all this time. My eyes just had a sensation circulating all around the outside thinking about telling him that. I'm warm. (Not heat flashes, just warm.)
Hmmm... no one else would know about my heat flashes except Randy. That line above really wouldn't make sense to anyone else but he and I. Glossy eyed now.
Thursday, March 13, 2003
Handle This
8:01pm
Now what? I have three hours until work is over. I'm finding myself tired at the end of my shifts because I'm actually getting up earlier to get in my overtime. I'm going to the White Party with 'the boys' (Alex, Dan, Danny, Bobby & Joey) Jeff & Joe are going too I believe, as well as their whole entourage. I didn't want to take the cost of the ticket and weekend stay out of my normal budget so I'm doing the OT so that I don't have to really worry about where the money is coming from. But now what? I'd like to go and hang out with Ali tonight because I feel like I've been flaking a lot lately on our plans. Am I up for a drive to The Doom though? haha...
After consulting a soon to be psychologist, I decided to give Randy the picture of his b/f with others along with the IM from Wes. Ultimately, he's a big boy and can do whatever he wants with the information. He can hate me for pointing it out. He can ignore it. He can shrug it off as something he may already know about. He can see me as meddling and not do a thing. In yesterday's entry of "no drama," that act was done out of love here and I'm done.
I had this really funny thought. I've never really met or seen Randy's b/f, Ryan. What if the person I think it is in the picture really isn't him? Hahahahahahahaha... wow, what an ass of myself I'd be making. It wouldn't be the first time. It's the thought that counts, right? :-)
Lanny sent me an e-mail back. He's so afraid of being alone. This hasn't changed over time. Sometimes it's hard for me to decipher between the feelings of love for Shane and the feelings of fear to live alone. It lends for him to find people (like me---and probabaly Shane too) who try and dish him answers to life and have him try and lead the lives that we would lead. That's not fair, maybe. Maybe it's exactly what he wants and needs. I wish that other soul that could compliment his would find him soon.
8:42pm
I'm still waiting for my birth certificate to come from the State. I need the certified copy in order to apply for my passport.
10:15pm
I went AOL mobile. This is how bored I am. I'm pushing through the tedious text messaging in between calls.
Now what? I have three hours until work is over. I'm finding myself tired at the end of my shifts because I'm actually getting up earlier to get in my overtime. I'm going to the White Party with 'the boys' (Alex, Dan, Danny, Bobby & Joey) Jeff & Joe are going too I believe, as well as their whole entourage. I didn't want to take the cost of the ticket and weekend stay out of my normal budget so I'm doing the OT so that I don't have to really worry about where the money is coming from. But now what? I'd like to go and hang out with Ali tonight because I feel like I've been flaking a lot lately on our plans. Am I up for a drive to The Doom though? haha...
After consulting a soon to be psychologist, I decided to give Randy the picture of his b/f with others along with the IM from Wes. Ultimately, he's a big boy and can do whatever he wants with the information. He can hate me for pointing it out. He can ignore it. He can shrug it off as something he may already know about. He can see me as meddling and not do a thing. In yesterday's entry of "no drama," that act was done out of love here and I'm done.
I had this really funny thought. I've never really met or seen Randy's b/f, Ryan. What if the person I think it is in the picture really isn't him? Hahahahahahahaha... wow, what an ass of myself I'd be making. It wouldn't be the first time. It's the thought that counts, right? :-)
Lanny sent me an e-mail back. He's so afraid of being alone. This hasn't changed over time. Sometimes it's hard for me to decipher between the feelings of love for Shane and the feelings of fear to live alone. It lends for him to find people (like me---and probabaly Shane too) who try and dish him answers to life and have him try and lead the lives that we would lead. That's not fair, maybe. Maybe it's exactly what he wants and needs. I wish that other soul that could compliment his would find him soon.
8:42pm
I'm still waiting for my birth certificate to come from the State. I need the certified copy in order to apply for my passport.
10:15pm
I went AOL mobile. This is how bored I am. I'm pushing through the tedious text messaging in between calls.
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
Giddy Me
5:05pm
I'm in a quandary. Do I involve myself or not? I have information that may help someone. That someone is my ex so me having the information isn't as reliable as say, Dionna, his close friend. I could opt to keep to myself and not say anything. That is always an option.
5:33pm
I think back. No Drama. It would be creating drama by getting involved and therefore the answer along that vein is simple. ((Blue blood lacks passion as it is polluted.))
8:19pm
I still don't feel that I've recovered from whatever illness I had at the beginning of the year. (Starting around x-mas.) At first, it was just treated as a common cold that was irritating my throat and would go away. When it didn't, the cultured me to find out that it was Strep Throat and put me on antibiotics. That cleared the Strep, but my throat still felt sore and I couldn't get rid of this taste in my mouth. I stopped wearing my contacts for a while and this seemed to help so I'm working on the theory that there's some sort of infection from my eyes draining to my throat. I'm going to go on an intensive 10-day self treatment of echinacea & astragalus. I don't like being without my health. Is this the looking glass of things to come? I smile in this chair thinking that someday I may be confined to one.
So I'm drinking tea. I like it. It's good for me, so I read. I've been drinking green & black tea from Trader Joe's organically grown label. I picked up some chamomile from the same label just a few days ago and that soothed me to sleep Sunday night. Sunday morning I had some jasmine green tea at a bakery in Laguna called Heidelberg's. It was good enough that I purchased some at Trader Joe's, but the stuff I got doesn't taste the same. I wonder if they sweetened it with sugar. I find that a big glass of tea with a meal helps with eating less.
8:30pm
I've taken a few days off from writing. Partially it's because I'm working overtime at work and partially it's because I had quite the party weekend and haven't processed everything yet. I know that the overall net feeling is that it was GOOD what happened, what I did, what I didn't do, the people I spent time with, the new lives that bumped my space and will probably bump again. All good.
10:37pm
So I still haven't talked about my weekend or the many thoughts I'm still thinking. Soon. Soon.
I'm in a quandary. Do I involve myself or not? I have information that may help someone. That someone is my ex so me having the information isn't as reliable as say, Dionna, his close friend. I could opt to keep to myself and not say anything. That is always an option.
5:33pm
I think back. No Drama. It would be creating drama by getting involved and therefore the answer along that vein is simple. ((Blue blood lacks passion as it is polluted.))
8:19pm
I still don't feel that I've recovered from whatever illness I had at the beginning of the year. (Starting around x-mas.) At first, it was just treated as a common cold that was irritating my throat and would go away. When it didn't, the cultured me to find out that it was Strep Throat and put me on antibiotics. That cleared the Strep, but my throat still felt sore and I couldn't get rid of this taste in my mouth. I stopped wearing my contacts for a while and this seemed to help so I'm working on the theory that there's some sort of infection from my eyes draining to my throat. I'm going to go on an intensive 10-day self treatment of echinacea & astragalus. I don't like being without my health. Is this the looking glass of things to come? I smile in this chair thinking that someday I may be confined to one.
So I'm drinking tea. I like it. It's good for me, so I read. I've been drinking green & black tea from Trader Joe's organically grown label. I picked up some chamomile from the same label just a few days ago and that soothed me to sleep Sunday night. Sunday morning I had some jasmine green tea at a bakery in Laguna called Heidelberg's. It was good enough that I purchased some at Trader Joe's, but the stuff I got doesn't taste the same. I wonder if they sweetened it with sugar. I find that a big glass of tea with a meal helps with eating less.
8:30pm
I've taken a few days off from writing. Partially it's because I'm working overtime at work and partially it's because I had quite the party weekend and haven't processed everything yet. I know that the overall net feeling is that it was GOOD what happened, what I did, what I didn't do, the people I spent time with, the new lives that bumped my space and will probably bump again. All good.
10:37pm
So I still haven't talked about my weekend or the many thoughts I'm still thinking. Soon. Soon.
Saturday, March 08, 2003
Water Power
Shower thoughts... Millions of people around the world are keeping themselves zip-lock sealed to their mates, making yellow & blue--green so that they don't' have to be just yellow, or just blue. They'll hang on to their relationship so that they dont' have to be alone, or for the kids, or for the money, but ultimately it's all about some form of security. I don't think it makes me strong because I didn't stay in a relationship for security, just smart enough to know that I'm not just yellow or just blue... I'm a rainbow of colors myself.
Today it's smoggy. Peering out the window toward the foothills, the after-rain green is barely visible. Environmentally, the smog is one of the ugliest things about Southern California. I suppose it makes up for the beaches and sun at other times of the year. When I was a kid I used to have visions of huge filtration devices sucking the air in from high atop the skyscrapers & mountains and purifying the air. I child doesn't think of the reailities of this picture...only the possibilities. Now, I think about this idea and ponder whether the machines would create their own pollution to be cleaned up; how would this work logistically? My mind is conditioned to a reality that makes it easier to live with other people. (And still, I find that I don't get it most of the time...haha)
So the hills become more obscure and the lush green is a pretty image--faded but not completely gone. Nathan called me this morning and we updated each other on the "state of affairs." I realized while talking to him that being with the boys last Sunday fulfilled something sensual, but it also briefly medicated the lack of affection over the past two months. (Much like my brief time with Joshua.) But self-medicating this way ultimately only lasts for the short-term. (I think) Haha... so let the self-medicating continue... haha.. I think I'm just typing nonsensical stuff now. Delirious I am not, but I am at work so anything is possible. ;-)
Josh and I went and had "pho" the other night. 24-hr pho in Westminster. lol. I wasn't really hungry, but I wanted to spend some time with him. We both got very tired after eating. I drove home to my new room and fell asleep trying to fix the interface with my mouse. Pesky lil mice.
Today it's smoggy. Peering out the window toward the foothills, the after-rain green is barely visible. Environmentally, the smog is one of the ugliest things about Southern California. I suppose it makes up for the beaches and sun at other times of the year. When I was a kid I used to have visions of huge filtration devices sucking the air in from high atop the skyscrapers & mountains and purifying the air. I child doesn't think of the reailities of this picture...only the possibilities. Now, I think about this idea and ponder whether the machines would create their own pollution to be cleaned up; how would this work logistically? My mind is conditioned to a reality that makes it easier to live with other people. (And still, I find that I don't get it most of the time...haha)
So the hills become more obscure and the lush green is a pretty image--faded but not completely gone. Nathan called me this morning and we updated each other on the "state of affairs." I realized while talking to him that being with the boys last Sunday fulfilled something sensual, but it also briefly medicated the lack of affection over the past two months. (Much like my brief time with Joshua.) But self-medicating this way ultimately only lasts for the short-term. (I think) Haha... so let the self-medicating continue... haha.. I think I'm just typing nonsensical stuff now. Delirious I am not, but I am at work so anything is possible. ;-)
Josh and I went and had "pho" the other night. 24-hr pho in Westminster. lol. I wasn't really hungry, but I wanted to spend some time with him. We both got very tired after eating. I drove home to my new room and fell asleep trying to fix the interface with my mouse. Pesky lil mice.
Thursday, March 06, 2003
I walked into the bathroom here at work and a smell transported me back to being 17/18 years old. Haha. That sounds bad, doesn't it? It was a good smell. I think they changed the urinal cakes to a different manufacturer and the fragrance was something similar to a shampoo or conditioner I think I used to use when I first moved out on my own. Very vividly I could see my old bathroom, the shower curtain, the bottles of shampoo in the shower. I remembered the Costco pack of toothbrushes that were under my sink and my bed mattresses that were frameless on the carpet. I had such gay posters. Haha. Oh what a time warp that was.
Then....as I was washing my hands---BECAUSE YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS AFTER LEAVING THE BATHROOM!---I remembered an odd incident that I couldn't understand at the time but completely understand now. I was taking some classes at Fullerton College and used one of the bathrooms. While I was at the urinal, a guy walked in and washed his hands, then he walked over to the urinal to pee. I washed me hands and left. I was perplexed at the time. Why would you wash your hands only to dirty them and then have to wash them again? Years later I found myself doing the same thing.... because I had been eating and my hands were sticky. The light bulb illuminates.
What is it with these restroom memories? Maybe I'm feeling too clean. Actually...I feel greasy & gross. I haven't shaved in a couple of days. I've been wearing my glasses because I think my contacts are irritating my eyes too much so I'm going to try glasses for a couple of weeks. Maybe they'll be rose colored.
I finally responded to an e-mail from Ryan. I could tell in the brief words he used it was his way of opening a door for me to make a move. He's always like that. Some things don't change. I let him know my days off and he sent a line back about "perhaps" we can get coffee this Sunday evening. What is it with people and coffee? What would people do if not for coffee? I don't drink coffee, so when people say, "Let's meet for coffee." there's this piece of me that feels like I'm being sucked into the mainstream---not in a good way like when I want to go to the movies on opening night, but in a bad way like I'm paying taxes or getting a corporate day job. Err..umm... gee. I guess I'm already part of the masses. But coffee... I have to draw the line there. Haha. And it's not for any real political stance, I just never have liked the taste. But I'll go get coffee (hot chocolate or warm cider) and see what this boy looks like now and see if we have anything in common and see if there's any of this sexual chemistry there than never quite got tapped into. Who knows. You never do until you try.
Then....as I was washing my hands---BECAUSE YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS AFTER LEAVING THE BATHROOM!---I remembered an odd incident that I couldn't understand at the time but completely understand now. I was taking some classes at Fullerton College and used one of the bathrooms. While I was at the urinal, a guy walked in and washed his hands, then he walked over to the urinal to pee. I washed me hands and left. I was perplexed at the time. Why would you wash your hands only to dirty them and then have to wash them again? Years later I found myself doing the same thing.... because I had been eating and my hands were sticky. The light bulb illuminates.
What is it with these restroom memories? Maybe I'm feeling too clean. Actually...I feel greasy & gross. I haven't shaved in a couple of days. I've been wearing my glasses because I think my contacts are irritating my eyes too much so I'm going to try glasses for a couple of weeks. Maybe they'll be rose colored.
I finally responded to an e-mail from Ryan. I could tell in the brief words he used it was his way of opening a door for me to make a move. He's always like that. Some things don't change. I let him know my days off and he sent a line back about "perhaps" we can get coffee this Sunday evening. What is it with people and coffee? What would people do if not for coffee? I don't drink coffee, so when people say, "Let's meet for coffee." there's this piece of me that feels like I'm being sucked into the mainstream---not in a good way like when I want to go to the movies on opening night, but in a bad way like I'm paying taxes or getting a corporate day job. Err..umm... gee. I guess I'm already part of the masses. But coffee... I have to draw the line there. Haha. And it's not for any real political stance, I just never have liked the taste. But I'll go get coffee (hot chocolate or warm cider) and see what this boy looks like now and see if we have anything in common and see if there's any of this sexual chemistry there than never quite got tapped into. Who knows. You never do until you try.
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
A Few Days Pass...
Bobby drove down yesterday to help me move the bed and TV yesterday. He's now the official expert on packing & moving my shit. I've got my reservation in for a year from now when my lease is up. =) Something funny during the drive in between the two locations. We were crossing over Culver and a boy in a red truck was sitting in traffic in the opposite direction. As soon as I saw him, I started looking in my rear view mirror because I know how Bobby is with boys & trucks. Sure enough, within seconds he was transfixed on this boy. I actually watched his head crook all the way around as his truck drove by. I started laughing harder than I have in a long time. It tickled the force I laughed with. We had dinner at The Olive Garden and I got the first peek at his designs. Tremendous. I love his ideas, the theories behind the clothes. He combines a sort of racy elegance with classic sexy. My talent lies in my writing, his in his ideas and designs. It's where our passions are. I love that we have this creative side to share.
He compares me to his mother. I've never met her. I want to. I want to organize a Mother's Day event where all of we who are friends can have our mothers interact. Disaster? Naw. I think it would be fantastic and fun. In fact, I should start the pre-planning now, shop for the invites, think of a place for a brunch and get reservations in order. hehehe... that's a good project to invest my mind into now. ((Because moving is winding down.))
I have my new room organized. The bed is in place. The shelf has the radio on it. The closet shelves are holding the boxes that sat in my last closet: a box of "scrap book" memorabilia that needs to be sorted, a box of elementary school stuff, a box of my past day planner pages & hand written journals. The TV sits on the floor without the cables to hook it up yet. There's my casual, kick-back IKEA chair next to the nightstand next to the bed. It already has a cozy feel....just not lived in. I haven't yet. I have my clothes, toiletries and computer at the old apartment still. I sense a part of me not wanting to let go and the other part of me tugging as hard as it can to pull me away. I will let go. I know I have to. I will let go. I will.
A few days now since I spent my "tight" night with the boys. I didn't really type much other than surface reflections in the last entry because I was floating---quite literally---on cloud 13 somewhere. In the past few days I have had to rubberband snap my mind. I get to thinking about things that are much too involved for me and ultimately has nothing to do with me. I think about why couples have 3-ways. I think about whether there is an equal desire on both parties to partake or whether one wants the experiences and the other simple goes along. Does it start out equal and change? Do they communicate well and discuss their expectations or limits beforehand? Do they know what they want out of it or is it play-as-you-go? All these ponderings pounce around in my brain, not just since my own experience, but for years I've wondered. So as I sat on their love seat--watching & waiting--these things were there. I drank to quash the clatter of my brain. I drank to see beneath the surface and start to sense what it was that was passing between them. I've always been good at molding myself to the intensity of one other person. I feel the pressure in their kiss and relate it back to them. I feel the heat from their touch and respond accordingly. I hear the breaths and moans and know which actions are pleasing and which need to be repeated. I've always felt that the way I am in the bedroom is the complete opposite of how brash and impersonal I am in "the real world." It's like I store up all of the sociableness for the intimacy involved in the close spaces underneath (and on top of) the covers. I'm fine with this odd strike of balance. Who needs to talk to people anyway? haha... kidding. No.. really.. I am. =)'
:::Rubberband SNAP!!::: So I made the statement last night to Mark & Charlie that I could go my whole life and never have the experience again and be okay. IT WAS that awesome to me. It's like why would I want to compare it with anything else or try to recreate it? I know me and sex. I know how things never get recreated--they can't. You can't conjure an element that is spontaneity sprinkled with pixie dust. So it begs the question.....would I do it again with them? :::sigh::: I'd love to. haha. :::rubberband snap::: **HARD** So I think I'm going to let my thoughts simmer a bit. I guess the last few days wasn't enough time. What an odd image---my mind as a crock pot just waiting for the right flavor to talk about something.
TV is going to become a thing of the past again. This new shift of mine will keep my nights booked until 11:30pm. One hour from now. D.R. was kind enough to record "24" for me. Sunday Nights off I might still be able to do the "Six Feet Under," "Sex In The City," "Queer As Folk" stuff... or the FOX night lineup. Or... :::rubberband snap:::
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. It's been a long time since I've related to my Catholic upbringing. I wouldn't even know if I'm spiritual per se. What I do know and am very sure of is that I'm moved deeply by the laughter of children in play and the silence of adults giving hugs. Shit...can I just be the Dalai Lama?
He compares me to his mother. I've never met her. I want to. I want to organize a Mother's Day event where all of we who are friends can have our mothers interact. Disaster? Naw. I think it would be fantastic and fun. In fact, I should start the pre-planning now, shop for the invites, think of a place for a brunch and get reservations in order. hehehe... that's a good project to invest my mind into now. ((Because moving is winding down.))
I have my new room organized. The bed is in place. The shelf has the radio on it. The closet shelves are holding the boxes that sat in my last closet: a box of "scrap book" memorabilia that needs to be sorted, a box of elementary school stuff, a box of my past day planner pages & hand written journals. The TV sits on the floor without the cables to hook it up yet. There's my casual, kick-back IKEA chair next to the nightstand next to the bed. It already has a cozy feel....just not lived in. I haven't yet. I have my clothes, toiletries and computer at the old apartment still. I sense a part of me not wanting to let go and the other part of me tugging as hard as it can to pull me away. I will let go. I know I have to. I will let go. I will.
A few days now since I spent my "tight" night with the boys. I didn't really type much other than surface reflections in the last entry because I was floating---quite literally---on cloud 13 somewhere. In the past few days I have had to rubberband snap my mind. I get to thinking about things that are much too involved for me and ultimately has nothing to do with me. I think about why couples have 3-ways. I think about whether there is an equal desire on both parties to partake or whether one wants the experiences and the other simple goes along. Does it start out equal and change? Do they communicate well and discuss their expectations or limits beforehand? Do they know what they want out of it or is it play-as-you-go? All these ponderings pounce around in my brain, not just since my own experience, but for years I've wondered. So as I sat on their love seat--watching & waiting--these things were there. I drank to quash the clatter of my brain. I drank to see beneath the surface and start to sense what it was that was passing between them. I've always been good at molding myself to the intensity of one other person. I feel the pressure in their kiss and relate it back to them. I feel the heat from their touch and respond accordingly. I hear the breaths and moans and know which actions are pleasing and which need to be repeated. I've always felt that the way I am in the bedroom is the complete opposite of how brash and impersonal I am in "the real world." It's like I store up all of the sociableness for the intimacy involved in the close spaces underneath (and on top of) the covers. I'm fine with this odd strike of balance. Who needs to talk to people anyway? haha... kidding. No.. really.. I am. =)'
:::Rubberband SNAP!!::: So I made the statement last night to Mark & Charlie that I could go my whole life and never have the experience again and be okay. IT WAS that awesome to me. It's like why would I want to compare it with anything else or try to recreate it? I know me and sex. I know how things never get recreated--they can't. You can't conjure an element that is spontaneity sprinkled with pixie dust. So it begs the question.....would I do it again with them? :::sigh::: I'd love to. haha. :::rubberband snap::: **HARD** So I think I'm going to let my thoughts simmer a bit. I guess the last few days wasn't enough time. What an odd image---my mind as a crock pot just waiting for the right flavor to talk about something.
TV is going to become a thing of the past again. This new shift of mine will keep my nights booked until 11:30pm. One hour from now. D.R. was kind enough to record "24" for me. Sunday Nights off I might still be able to do the "Six Feet Under," "Sex In The City," "Queer As Folk" stuff... or the FOX night lineup. Or... :::rubberband snap:::
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. It's been a long time since I've related to my Catholic upbringing. I wouldn't even know if I'm spiritual per se. What I do know and am very sure of is that I'm moved deeply by the laughter of children in play and the silence of adults giving hugs. Shit...can I just be the Dalai Lama?
Monday, March 03, 2003
Is there a word in the English language that expresses rapture, lascivious explosion and sensual exploration? Wow. (Yeah...I didn't think so.) Fuck! It's 12:40a.m and I'm just home from my first "real" 3-way. (This entry *IS NOT* going to be a play by play so go find your internet porn somewhere else. Besides....I was so engulfed in the whole experience that details are nowhere as prevalent as thoughts like: soft skin, awesome lips, tenderness.)
:::deep breath:::
(Real in the sense that a year ago ended up being just Rob and I after about 5-10 minutes.)
My commment to the couple earlier in the evening of "mental note: next time Saturday Night," expressed what a good time I was having. I hope it was tri-mutual. (haha, another non-word) Both were excellent kissers--which is everything, really. I could have made out all night long and been satisfied. From "Malcolm in the Middle" to Jeremy In The Middle. hehe. A cute transition. I drank too much. lol. You'd think by now I'd know that alcohol impedes sexual performance, but I was more nervous than I thought I was going to be when I got to their place. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been, but I think it's that little kid in me that will never leave. It's the part of me that allows for such pleasure and begs for such experience. Wow. (The word keeps coming up in my head.) I'm thinking of the Frou Frou song "Shh" and the intensity of the part in the middle of the song where she says:
"I feel good all over...
"I feel good all over...
"When you're inside of..."
And she never says "Me" but the lingering and waiting for it while the music kicks in communicates the intensity without words. Oh wow...I just realized I left my CD's and lube at their place. I'd like to say it was on purpose, but truthfully, I was was in a cloud of bliss afterwards that someone could have shot me with a BB Gun and I'd would have been unphased. ((That 70's Show Reference))
((Time interlude.... After writing the above, I fell asleep on the couch for the last 4 1/2 hours. It's been an exhausting day on all levels. Physically my body is begging for the comfort of my pillows and blankets.))
What a contrast day this has been. It started out with getting home from The Factory and seeing Randy in bed with Ryan. Talk about pain, but I'm beyond tears with him now. I called Chuck, to hang out at the beach. His brand of comfort is one that would allow me to vent without being an emotional wreck. Before leaving, I walked to the top of the hill and wrote this (Perhaps it was fortelling of the wonderful way the night would end):
THOUGHTS FROM ATOP WEST BEACH
It's one-something. At the beach for the first time this year. I'm healing. Spiritual cuts bleed pieces of your soul. So I'm here at the beach hoping to reclaim some of the soul that has been draining over the past year or so.
Now...it's three hours later. Flattery of a 17 year old who thought I was 20, seawater and friendship fused to make a patch for my soul. I no longer feel the gushing of myself out into the world. I sense the changing of time in the water's unending approach and regress. Oh how warm I am waiting for the sun to set. I am a cactus. Still. Centered. I am here while the landscape changes and becomes the next season.
I feel strong because I know that I will survive and that happiness is something that exists inside of me. It isn't a place that I must physically go to and it isn't a treasure that I must find. It's in the tide pools that the children below are fascinated with. It's in the wind pushing the sailboats off into the distant horizon. It's in the sportsmanship of the men playing volleyball all day long; in their claps, their grunts, their pain. It's in a phone call from my mother showing concern without saying she's concerned. It's in watching the teenagers skim the water in their wetsuits and fall into the ocean. Dried salt in the air is okay, but not in my food. It's the things that I don't do and never try that I will be trapped by.
Sometimes boys can make the most beautiful expressions in response to an emotion that they feel. They lack the words to speak. Our bodies respond to cold by showing bumps on the skin. Involuntary responses that communicate clearly. Like the baby that cries because it's hungry, or tired or simply wants to be held. No words are necessary.
I want to be held, and I know if I'd cry someone would know--without words--to hold me.
:::deep breath:::
(Real in the sense that a year ago ended up being just Rob and I after about 5-10 minutes.)
My commment to the couple earlier in the evening of "mental note: next time Saturday Night," expressed what a good time I was having. I hope it was tri-mutual. (haha, another non-word) Both were excellent kissers--which is everything, really. I could have made out all night long and been satisfied. From "Malcolm in the Middle" to Jeremy In The Middle. hehe. A cute transition. I drank too much. lol. You'd think by now I'd know that alcohol impedes sexual performance, but I was more nervous than I thought I was going to be when I got to their place. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been, but I think it's that little kid in me that will never leave. It's the part of me that allows for such pleasure and begs for such experience. Wow. (The word keeps coming up in my head.) I'm thinking of the Frou Frou song "Shh" and the intensity of the part in the middle of the song where she says:
"I feel good all over...
"I feel good all over...
"When you're inside of..."
And she never says "Me" but the lingering and waiting for it while the music kicks in communicates the intensity without words. Oh wow...I just realized I left my CD's and lube at their place. I'd like to say it was on purpose, but truthfully, I was was in a cloud of bliss afterwards that someone could have shot me with a BB Gun and I'd would have been unphased. ((That 70's Show Reference))
((Time interlude.... After writing the above, I fell asleep on the couch for the last 4 1/2 hours. It's been an exhausting day on all levels. Physically my body is begging for the comfort of my pillows and blankets.))
What a contrast day this has been. It started out with getting home from The Factory and seeing Randy in bed with Ryan. Talk about pain, but I'm beyond tears with him now. I called Chuck, to hang out at the beach. His brand of comfort is one that would allow me to vent without being an emotional wreck. Before leaving, I walked to the top of the hill and wrote this (Perhaps it was fortelling of the wonderful way the night would end):
THOUGHTS FROM ATOP WEST BEACH
It's one-something. At the beach for the first time this year. I'm healing. Spiritual cuts bleed pieces of your soul. So I'm here at the beach hoping to reclaim some of the soul that has been draining over the past year or so.
Now...it's three hours later. Flattery of a 17 year old who thought I was 20, seawater and friendship fused to make a patch for my soul. I no longer feel the gushing of myself out into the world. I sense the changing of time in the water's unending approach and regress. Oh how warm I am waiting for the sun to set. I am a cactus. Still. Centered. I am here while the landscape changes and becomes the next season.
I feel strong because I know that I will survive and that happiness is something that exists inside of me. It isn't a place that I must physically go to and it isn't a treasure that I must find. It's in the tide pools that the children below are fascinated with. It's in the wind pushing the sailboats off into the distant horizon. It's in the sportsmanship of the men playing volleyball all day long; in their claps, their grunts, their pain. It's in a phone call from my mother showing concern without saying she's concerned. It's in watching the teenagers skim the water in their wetsuits and fall into the ocean. Dried salt in the air is okay, but not in my food. It's the things that I don't do and never try that I will be trapped by.
Sometimes boys can make the most beautiful expressions in response to an emotion that they feel. They lack the words to speak. Our bodies respond to cold by showing bumps on the skin. Involuntary responses that communicate clearly. Like the baby that cries because it's hungry, or tired or simply wants to be held. No words are necessary.
I want to be held, and I know if I'd cry someone would know--without words--to hold me.
