Work & Sex
Those are probably the two main things keeping me from writing productive posts lately. To be fair, work has been better than usual, I guess. I can say the same regarding the second topic, though of course, I'm describing nothing but the fact and the act of it, when the soul and implications are far more complex. The problem with both is perhaps my failure to simply take both as they come. The problem is the future.
He's still leaving. And now it looks like it will be soon after the new year. I don't know what I'm doing. Why am I actively setting myself up for near certain heartbreak and disappointment? Does being conscious about it make it any less dangerous? I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to move through it like a damned bird, existing magically on drops of dew and mysterious nourishment from dusty soil. I feel a bit more like a horse, needing a stable water and food source, solid ground. Responding to touch, developing trust.
What are the other analagous things I want to be or become? A carpenter. A cat. A garden. A temple. A beekeeper. A library. A stonemason. An ocean. A sip of 6o year-old scotch, with memories that burn and breathe. A crazy quilt. A pure and fluid note, its vibration rippling out despite all interference, never stopping, keeping pace with time itself.
I want too much.
I'm sliding and slouching down the pillows, the bed pulls me in, accomodating me when I don't quite want its accomodation, but can't quite refuse it.
He's still leaving. And now it looks like it will be soon after the new year. I don't know what I'm doing. Why am I actively setting myself up for near certain heartbreak and disappointment? Does being conscious about it make it any less dangerous? I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to move through it like a damned bird, existing magically on drops of dew and mysterious nourishment from dusty soil. I feel a bit more like a horse, needing a stable water and food source, solid ground. Responding to touch, developing trust.
What are the other analagous things I want to be or become? A carpenter. A cat. A garden. A temple. A beekeeper. A library. A stonemason. An ocean. A sip of 6o year-old scotch, with memories that burn and breathe. A crazy quilt. A pure and fluid note, its vibration rippling out despite all interference, never stopping, keeping pace with time itself.
I want too much.
I'm sliding and slouching down the pillows, the bed pulls me in, accomodating me when I don't quite want its accomodation, but can't quite refuse it.
posted by Black Egg at 11:24 PM
2 Comments:
I don't believe that you want too much. You want what you need for yourself. I like the analogy of being a horse, who needs a stable stable and a steady touch from someone they know and trust. That makes all the sense in the world to me.
I'm good at pretending I don't need that stuff, but really I do need it. Guess the trick is finding someone who needs the same...
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