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greenstormWe knew it was coming. I've been busy though. Don't take these facts and figures too seriously, but as of last night I'd spent
-28 hours falling in love
-5 hours a night for the last two nights sleeping
-10 1/2 hours consecutively workingm
-Some time eating turkey with cool people and babies
Luckily I entered a state of altered reality where it couldn't hurt me.
Now, I will use subheadings.
Omens
I would have told you that I'm not superstitious, that is, until we were walking hand in hand across a park, coming out of the rain into the sun, and right above us was the clearest double rainbow I've ever seen. Thank you.
I've posted elsewhere about my last two fortune cookies. They are right.
Pros
He's smart. He's funny. He has an unwholesomely clever tongue. He is keenly aware of the ridiculousness that is human beings. He's 'creative' but not illogical. His word use is exquisite and premeditated. He's eminently sensible, whimsical, and often silly. He's ticklish. He's good in bed. He has the proper amount of freckles and body hair, and a nice belly button. He's enormously, to coin a term, self-integral-- independent, true to himself by his actions. He walks places. He likes food. He sketches randomly, and creates worlds out of words. He has a dvorak keyboard. His playlist contains all of: Tuvan throat singers, Kermit the frog singing The Rainbow Connection, Ennio Morricone's The Mission Soundtrack. You should see his hands. He wears a pink negligee well, and paints his face sometimes. He is not clingy nor obsessive nor emotionally closed. He enforces his own boundaries effortlessly. He is a joy. His lj name is teh sex.
Prose
I used to think, when I was happy, that the word would crack open and I would die. Now I just contemplate the chemical soup that is my brain.
It feels good to be stepping into this and to have a lot to offer. I've worked out most of the relationship kinks that I've discovered. I can stand on my own two feet, and there's enough of me that me plus another person no longer fits into one life. I have size, shape, and definition. My clinginess has subsided into reasonably normal wanting-people-around-sometimes-but-never-dying-from-it. when I walk, I hold my shoulders up and swing my hips in a sort of swagger and I have for awhile now. I'm proud of myself. I love my life.
I was walking with him (he walks every day. Not when it's nice out, or when he feels like it, or he tries to walk every day-- he just does) and as always happens when moving through a world with plants, I became a teacher. I pointed to a random patch of scrub gravel-- it had some dandelion, some sorrel, some chicory, clover, parsley seeded in from somewhere, and one of those little wild tansy ragworts. I pointed and said, 'everything in there save one thing has edible parts'. It was just a forgotten patch of gravel. Then we passed by a reasonably large, well-maintained chunk of landscaped ground, mostly done in junipers. I pointed at that and said, 'nothing in there is edible. Hmm.'
There's something a little overwhelming about making this post. Juggler has only recently-- with that kayak post, in fact --said that he feels comfortable with me talking about who he is a bit on my lj. There's been a ghost hand across my mouth for so long on that. Now I have two I can talk about. What's one to do?
I think I'm to say, 'I was sitting there looking at my legs the other day, and realised I love my body. I almost always do, but there's some sort of significance to that knowledge that I always forget. My body is me, and its beauty is a direct comment on God's love for me.'
I can do that without arguing definitions of God, I think.
Poetry
I posted previously:
Mother dear, I
can't finish my weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy.
-Sappho
(Translated by Mary Barnard)
And also:
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
-Pablo Neruda, translated by Merwin
Do you know what? Yesterday I listened to 'How's It Gonna Be' by Third Eye Blind, and thought about Kynnin as something in the distant past. Is renewal and replacement part of healing?
Profanity
Fucking aphrodite.
Ends with a smile.
It wasn't meant to be a coherent post, just release.
-28 hours falling in love
-5 hours a night for the last two nights sleeping
-10 1/2 hours consecutively workingm
-Some time eating turkey with cool people and babies
Luckily I entered a state of altered reality where it couldn't hurt me.
Now, I will use subheadings.
Omens
I would have told you that I'm not superstitious, that is, until we were walking hand in hand across a park, coming out of the rain into the sun, and right above us was the clearest double rainbow I've ever seen. Thank you.
I've posted elsewhere about my last two fortune cookies. They are right.
Pros
He's smart. He's funny. He has an unwholesomely clever tongue. He is keenly aware of the ridiculousness that is human beings. He's 'creative' but not illogical. His word use is exquisite and premeditated. He's eminently sensible, whimsical, and often silly. He's ticklish. He's good in bed. He has the proper amount of freckles and body hair, and a nice belly button. He's enormously, to coin a term, self-integral-- independent, true to himself by his actions. He walks places. He likes food. He sketches randomly, and creates worlds out of words. He has a dvorak keyboard. His playlist contains all of: Tuvan throat singers, Kermit the frog singing The Rainbow Connection, Ennio Morricone's The Mission Soundtrack. You should see his hands. He wears a pink negligee well, and paints his face sometimes. He is not clingy nor obsessive nor emotionally closed. He enforces his own boundaries effortlessly. He is a joy. His lj name is teh sex.
Prose
I used to think, when I was happy, that the word would crack open and I would die. Now I just contemplate the chemical soup that is my brain.
It feels good to be stepping into this and to have a lot to offer. I've worked out most of the relationship kinks that I've discovered. I can stand on my own two feet, and there's enough of me that me plus another person no longer fits into one life. I have size, shape, and definition. My clinginess has subsided into reasonably normal wanting-people-around-sometimes-but-never-dying-from-it. when I walk, I hold my shoulders up and swing my hips in a sort of swagger and I have for awhile now. I'm proud of myself. I love my life.
I was walking with him (he walks every day. Not when it's nice out, or when he feels like it, or he tries to walk every day-- he just does) and as always happens when moving through a world with plants, I became a teacher. I pointed to a random patch of scrub gravel-- it had some dandelion, some sorrel, some chicory, clover, parsley seeded in from somewhere, and one of those little wild tansy ragworts. I pointed and said, 'everything in there save one thing has edible parts'. It was just a forgotten patch of gravel. Then we passed by a reasonably large, well-maintained chunk of landscaped ground, mostly done in junipers. I pointed at that and said, 'nothing in there is edible. Hmm.'
There's something a little overwhelming about making this post. Juggler has only recently-- with that kayak post, in fact --said that he feels comfortable with me talking about who he is a bit on my lj. There's been a ghost hand across my mouth for so long on that. Now I have two I can talk about. What's one to do?
I think I'm to say, 'I was sitting there looking at my legs the other day, and realised I love my body. I almost always do, but there's some sort of significance to that knowledge that I always forget. My body is me, and its beauty is a direct comment on God's love for me.'
I can do that without arguing definitions of God, I think.
Poetry
I posted previously:
Mother dear, I
can't finish my weaving
You may
blame Aphrodite
soft as she is
she has almost
killed me with
love for that boy.
-Sappho
(Translated by Mary Barnard)
And also:
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
-Pablo Neruda, translated by Merwin
Do you know what? Yesterday I listened to 'How's It Gonna Be' by Third Eye Blind, and thought about Kynnin as something in the distant past. Is renewal and replacement part of healing?
Profanity
Fucking aphrodite.
Ends with a smile.
It wasn't meant to be a coherent post, just release.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 03:49 pm (UTC)Your posts like this are a joy to read. Knowing that your life is good is... hm. Have no one-word descriptive term handy for that. It's warm-feeling-spreading, honest-smile-inducing, rainbow-appreciating goodness.
It's funny, but I think I know compersion better now than at any point when I was still actively trying to be poly. :)
I'm happy for you. I truly, really, am. And that I'm able to tell you so is the figurative cherry on top. :>
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 03:57 pm (UTC)And, by the way, I am so glad you're still a part of my life, however different that part may be.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 04:22 pm (UTC)And he sounds like a great guy. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 08:32 pm (UTC)Congratulations on the recent addition to your life; he sounds amazing.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 12:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-09 01:00 am (UTC)