Morning Again

The time has passed so seamlessly, and here I am, in the tiny hours of tomorrow, almost ready to sleep. My body is past ready, and my mind is in that state where I need never sleep again as long as I keep my forward momentum. I want to write something beautiful, because I live in the midst of so much beauty right now. I was asked how I was today, and I answered again, "I'm wonderful. I've been for over a year now." Juggler told me, "if you were mentally weird at 10, on a scale from one-to-ten before you went off hormones, you're at about a one now, and maybe a two just recently."

I'm healthy. I'm happy. I'm wildly in love with so many things. I have fascinating conversations with interesting people. I touched clothed elbows with people I'd be happy to leap into bed with, and yet I don't, and life remains simple. I smile. A lot. I smile at people, and I smile away from people. I run down the street in the fall air and drape scarves around people and wander around the city deep in conversation. I edit papers and occasionally seduce people away from work in the mornings. I do half the things I could be doing, and speak with half the people I want to speak with, or maybe less. I constantly want to stand in open spaces and lift my arms with the feeling I might fly away. I buy orange juice in the supermarket instead of milk, and run frantically around my house doing laundry every time I come through it. I help prepare food instead of cooking it myself, and I drink tea. Sometimes, I am almost swallowed up by the sheer huge joyous dance that is my life. Sometimes, I am swallowed.

I love things. It's what I'm made to do, and when I can just do it, things work. Things are working. I'm stripping away all those complications that are used to bog down delight in other people, to weigh love into a thing of duty and misery and shattered expectation. I can't remember what that feels like anymore, not really; thinking of you makes me smile. And, I do mean you.

So, as the desiderata says, be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Always, be well.

...and... good night. :)

Because I've Been Mushy Lately

You

Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head.
so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,
like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of its bright syllables
like a charm, like a spell.

Falling in love
is glamorous hell: the crouched, parched heart
like a tiger, ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.
into my life, larger than life, you strolled in.

I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,
in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,
staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,
from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me

as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are
on the bed, like gift, like a touchable dream.

- Carol Ann Duffy

Bwah!

I feel like I'm falling in love with someone (not crush-stuff or NRE, just love like clear water in a stream) but I can't for the life of me figure out who or what. I'm just... happy, still, and light as air.

Ganked.

Someone asked these things of no-one in particular.

Okay folks, what makes you tick?

The sunshine, the earth, and the rain make me tick. In their absence I cease to be. This is not poetics, this is fact. If I hadn't been raised on a farm, I would have been a computer programmer, I'm sure.

What makes your world turn?

People. With or without them I slip into a featureless haze sometimes (I've missed the last week, it's been one very long day, there's no turning except perhaps the turning of the clay under yoru fingers when it's perfectly centred on the wheel and it feels still) but without them the haze contains nothing and I come out of the other side with no sense of having lived.

What drives you?

The sun, the earth, and the rain drive me to grow things in the same way they drive a plant. It's an inevitable reaction, as reliable as photosynthesis and very similar. I want living complexity to multiply; I want energy to be bound into ridiculous elaborate structures and stored in biomass. This sounds obscure, but it has the force of the voice of god in me. This is what takes me off to school and then returns me to shape my city.

What gods do you worship?

I try not to limit myself to gods. As long as everything is worshipped, I'm safe-- and how can you not be happy with a life full of worshipful things?

What do you care about?

I care about the big and impossibly crazily complex system that somehow contains a peat bog, a rainforest, deep-sea vents, and human consciousness all in the same thing. How does that work? It really does seem to be all one piece-- look for cracks, jump on them, and they turn out to be just as solid as the things that are self-evidently connected. Sometimes I picture myself standing on a streetcorner in the rain, my eyes crazed and wide, screaming, "it's all the same thing! It's all the same thing!" It's too big for any mind, really, and so we retreat into abstractions and forget that in the real world, things are connected. Things are connected, though, and so they all blur around the edges, and there in the end is just the one thing-- and that's the thing I care about.

What makes you lie awake at night?

The only thing I stay awake for when I'm in bed, lately, is staying up longer to savour the feeling of someone next to me when, in fact, there is. I don't believe in worry without action, despite the amount of time I spend doing it. Life is better without.

Do you run on gas, or love or hate or ambition?

Compulsion. Love, hate, and ambition are lovely asides.

If an actor plays you, what is their motivation?

Enlightenment. I don't know what that means, or perhaps I've achieved it and wish to stay here.

Who are you?

I'm Erin

What are you?

I'm a gardener.

(no subject)

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