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"Let's talk about the stars for one..."
"Oh, I'd rather talk about what you''re thinking...."
She thought of Tim sometimes. Wondered if he'd ever found his weird easy love.... it's what you do when the rain comes on a Sunday morning and you light a candle and don''t even have going to church on your closeted bingo card.
As god was her witness, whatever the robot masters said about the matter, she was going to submit her work to real people with real email addresses because it had stroked her ego so much. It could all come to nada plus zero, yet more than anything on this tiny planet would I love to ....
reach you.
touch you.
There's this photo I have from the new (oh first person today yay - less. brain twist) horror film "summertime" with Kate Hep. Boy does it have my number. In addition to Kate being like faded, she''s surrounded by beauty and intercourse (ah the best things). Not to spoil it for you, but you'll never see it, but there's a gardenia - and you know how I feel deeply about them - that somehow gets in our heroine's crone hands... And, it falls into the Venice canal. The unavailable lover hesitates briefly then sees her face and runs to capture the symbolic drop. The photo - how they got it - was of the beautiful tailored younger hand reaching for the pure white flower drifting by and knowing the only way he's really get it is if he jumped in...
and would it really be worth that sort of trouble.
"I'll think about it and let you know."
oh my.
the rain makes me so happy
but I'm not sure if I'd be up for cliche Seattle.
It''s actually interesting my foray into third person, I can feel myself slipping into it now
"she wore a shapeless yellow dress with exquisite tasteless white embroidery and the Norfolk pine still had green and she had the window open and the thermostat to 82 so it could maybe have a spa day."
My wildflowers seem to have lost their ability to flower and that was that.
Do I ever write of Tim though? I don't recall, but I should have.
He was one of those I met during the friend rich era (I thought that it would always be with me, ha!). Tim was like Greg but with a white hot ability to flirt. It was like dancing and so light. At the time, I was married or about to be so it was like having the ring of protection on. Later, I flooded that engine like a wrecked ship. It terrified mesometimes to recall the places my brain would go in the castigation of [I wonder if third person is disassociation, I just had to scrub it out after slipping into it while alluding to my embarrassing behavior.]
Love drives me mad.
always.
I have to ride it every time (don't you?) - but for me, it seems a bit more chaotic than most folks from my observations. There''s a glitch in my programming that I have had a helluva a time trying to patch. It starts with
1. the click - oh, you're smart and brilliantly clever and look at my face like the first person to really ever talk to me and look at me with interest in my life - my first god - I called him daddy
2. the glitch - I'll have to try really really hard not to want to use you as an avatar for the feelings you'll inevitably bring up by trodding the same paths as pa. That path ended with me still wanting to go to his grave (in my own time father) and carve "child raper" on his grave or something of the ilk. bless his heart
3. the numb - and it will irritate me to feel. it's like loss of control, so I will try to gain control. as the replacements say, "I'll smoke, and I''ll drink, and I'll never think" - or was that billie holiday?
Chuck, I always like to rebel, so I add a fourth - a bonus -
every
time
4. CHAOS
So, I didn't know Tim very well, but I blame my father's madness on me shorting my circuits because much like my father, it''s so fucking hard for me to say the words "I'm sorry for being such an extra crazy disappointment who burned things down and then tried to put a sleeping bag on it."
It''s really hard for me to do anything when I do things like that - when I self sabotage - besides try my very best to shove it the fuck down.
Which is why I love Dr. Phil and that show Oprah let him take over when he did the couples' therapy:
"y'all, emotions are like being in the swimming pool smiling with a beach ball submerged below you - it takes a lot a lot of energy to keep that beach ball down and keep smiling on the surface doesn't it"
Him and U2 really got me through....
"Did I disappoint you, leave a bad taste in your mouth? you act like you never had love, and you now want me to go without... did I ask too much? more than a lot? you gave me nothing, now that''s all I''ve got.... we''re one, but we're not the same..."
It''s still raining, and I love it.
Oh, Tim - he was just interesting and intriguing, and the only real memory I have of him is in New York and falling a tiny bit in love at a subway stop in Brooklyn heights...
Daddy, I sit in your town. I live in a house provided to me by your replacement that is one block away from where you lived with the family that came before me. It's all so fucking trippy. I want you forever out of the bad programming in my head. It's really not your fault anymore. Even though it makes me WHIMPER out loud when I CONCEIVE of what I'm about to type ...
perhaps seeing a father who cared always makes me think of you...
it makes me sad that at the LIII age that I am, I''ll have to say with tears streaming down my face that I suppose in spite of all my horrible behavior and horrible everything and past and despite the fact that I keep thinking I left the best part of me behind in it...
I'll have to move forward like the dude who's birthday it is today told me to do:
and oddly Jesus too in the mysterious verse...
I've got to leave what my family might think about me behind and actually maybe think I might be worthy of love even in my old, broken, fat, short, stubby-legged, grey whatever the fucking slings you'd like to throw at the corpse ....
maybe it's ok and I don't have to perform or be anything
to be
worthy of your love....
(This wasn't really about you, but you are star-quality Tim)
daddy
god
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