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so many many words, and here is the result.
it sits before you taunting you as a non-fertile non-wise crone while you bleed all over the room.
The yard dog across the street drops his little boy off at the bus stop and then is making his sniffy way home to wait for his return. in the moment always.
Up until this exact moment, I could decide whether to utilize first or third person.
I know I'll never love him because I've trashed him in this column, and this column was meant for someone to use to know me (although god in fucking heaven knows I look back on the old writings and often cry and often gape in horror at the insanity) . why do I write? because (oof this one gets to my core as it is wet when I write it): it's someone to talk to. when I was in Oakland and jettisoning everything to fly above the clouds - getting rid of two of my $50 diaries filled with so much of my history. that was odd and hard. I've done it before - but that was to give to a lover. This was in the garbage can.
oh lovers.
fuck.
they prop me and just today I was like "53 and still this fucking vampire thing"
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they are in the bed naked, and she has averred her eyes as she both doesn't want to see her ugly body and definitely doesn't want to see his. she is back in this ring - this touching and talking live with voices and air to other human males. It had been since easter.
"you're a little bit magic"
ah he noticed. good good.
but narcissi didn't care all that very much as what she needed from him - from all of them is the spark - the energy to run - to exist: "I love you" of course being the chain/prize. She could see she might elicit it from this one. She felt next to nothing from him. Perhaps that's why she was able to orgasm so easily - no stakes. She was so bored with his conversation and lack of exchange/stimulation in that regard - as they really only had 'Babylon 5' in common. She wonders if she told him how she relied on it when she was divorcing the third person she disdained. She would slut shame walk from New Hampshire to the silver lake library to check out dvds of the show. It was before streaming kids. She did yoga. she digresses.
So this one. The life he witnesses of narcissi. he sees what? she sees a shell - a facade. It's alway a test. the only way to be around it fast that she knows of is lots of drug/alcohol ingested mutually and together vulnerable it up - but when she had done that with him... it had not been talk. That was her issue with this one - all he wanted was touch. boring. it was great of course, and all touch and no ...
and the British Irish guy. THAT was hilarious. The fantasies in her head about him. She calls it the $8k pint of Guinness. Now it would be solo. She keeps wondering why in the fookin earth she was doing this. Why she was thinking of returning to Ireland of all places. there was so much more to see. And as always what was it - the sudden money capital - when she had had nothing. she could never insult her step father so much to let him know she did this.
She took pictures of herself with the cat and she looked horrid and the cat looked like it looked so it couldn't be the photograph.
the sun was coming out after a big storm. she was trying hard to let go and embrace the new - love the one you're with.
the compliments he landed on her always made her feel ridiculous - like she wasn't at all worthy of anything like that. They were inane except for the magic one. she liked that.
"I like the way you looked at me just then."
"what, you mean like a real person."
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