Throwingf Yourself Into The Void
Jan. 14th, 2008 08:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
My life is gathering legs again, perhaps despite my best efforts. Solstice is long past, there's light past five in the evening now. In the alleyway on the way to the bus stop I go past a hazelnut tree, and the catkins are out but the flowers haven't opened yet. The little red starburst of hazel flowers is the first sign of spring to me. It will come.
I socialised this weekend. It's been a long time. Patti's party, then Eva's way out in the middle of nowhere. I talked to some people I really liked, Annie and Marcella, and I'm sort of amused by the monogamous-making-friends-with-girls role that puts me in. I got to wear pretty clothes twice in a row. It was a super rough day, but I think I'm hardening up a little bit again, getting the necessary calluses for social contact after the dry spell.
Kynnin came over with three boxes of books, old friends from Mission, last night. We chatted a bit -- he's doing well, I'm a little surprised but very happy to see it -- and his son is home from the hospital now. He did look so happy, and it warmed something that needed warming to know that. I now have some of the worst sci fi in the universe in my house-- very early Heinlein and Asimov, anthologies from the pulp period, etc. I have most of my James Herriot, my Sherlock Holmes, the rest of my Agatha Christie, my original copy of Sword of Shannara-- you know, the kind of books you read growing up. It's nice.
It's also nice to see Kynnin and not be the one feeling nostalgic, or like I'm missing something. I'm with the right person finally. I'm so pleased. I'm so *happy*.
Angus has his tattoo appointment today, so I need to make sure there's food around. It's the equivalent of a super-sustained bdsm session in the way it burns through your blood sugar, you know, just prolonged pain. I put beans on the stove to boil because I'm not sure where I'm going with food yet and they were handy. Maybe chicken/white bean soup? I was super-apprehensive when he went in to get grape vines on his shoulder. I was like, they're going to be botanically incorrect, and I'm going to cringe everytime I see them but they're actually really nice.
dw00, you should see them.
I've had some interesting adventures in the world of weird mental alteration lately that I'm not, quite, ready to write about. I mean, I guess this is writing about them, but I feel a little self-conscious. I also feel a lot like writing. Something's opened up in my chest again after this weekend. I had been getting snippy and selfish with Angus, which is just something that I don't want to do, and in general distant from everything. You know, if I was still in that space this post would have opened with a list of complaints: a magazine somewhere has misprinted an ad or something with my cellphone number in it, my bike needs new inner tubes, my house is a mess and it's my fault so I need to clean it, I don't have time to do everything I need to do. Instead I'm once more suspended in my life, square in the center of now, letting it pull me along. Before it was more like swimmin gup against the front of the cage and continuously running into it.
Okay, so I'm not terribly coherent right now. It's before breakfast. I should put a load of laundry in. I've been living at my own house a lot, and thus it's been getting dirty.
My home is pretty wonderful. The bedroom is getting to how I want it to be, approaching something that's the kind of high-functioning sex/sanctuary/creative space/wardrobe/rathome/library that I need it to be. I want to put the small glass-topped table in it so I can work on my inks there. I also need another set of drawers, or maybe another chest in there. Anyone know a dresser going begging that's not made of heavy-duty cardboard?
But time to run away and do laundry. It's been a long time, it's nice to be mostly back. Hope your holidays all went well, and that you're settling well into the thing that comes after-- you know, your normal life.
I socialised this weekend. It's been a long time. Patti's party, then Eva's way out in the middle of nowhere. I talked to some people I really liked, Annie and Marcella, and I'm sort of amused by the monogamous-making-friends-with-girls role that puts me in. I got to wear pretty clothes twice in a row. It was a super rough day, but I think I'm hardening up a little bit again, getting the necessary calluses for social contact after the dry spell.
Kynnin came over with three boxes of books, old friends from Mission, last night. We chatted a bit -- he's doing well, I'm a little surprised but very happy to see it -- and his son is home from the hospital now. He did look so happy, and it warmed something that needed warming to know that. I now have some of the worst sci fi in the universe in my house-- very early Heinlein and Asimov, anthologies from the pulp period, etc. I have most of my James Herriot, my Sherlock Holmes, the rest of my Agatha Christie, my original copy of Sword of Shannara-- you know, the kind of books you read growing up. It's nice.
It's also nice to see Kynnin and not be the one feeling nostalgic, or like I'm missing something. I'm with the right person finally. I'm so pleased. I'm so *happy*.
Angus has his tattoo appointment today, so I need to make sure there's food around. It's the equivalent of a super-sustained bdsm session in the way it burns through your blood sugar, you know, just prolonged pain. I put beans on the stove to boil because I'm not sure where I'm going with food yet and they were handy. Maybe chicken/white bean soup? I was super-apprehensive when he went in to get grape vines on his shoulder. I was like, they're going to be botanically incorrect, and I'm going to cringe everytime I see them but they're actually really nice.
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I've had some interesting adventures in the world of weird mental alteration lately that I'm not, quite, ready to write about. I mean, I guess this is writing about them, but I feel a little self-conscious. I also feel a lot like writing. Something's opened up in my chest again after this weekend. I had been getting snippy and selfish with Angus, which is just something that I don't want to do, and in general distant from everything. You know, if I was still in that space this post would have opened with a list of complaints: a magazine somewhere has misprinted an ad or something with my cellphone number in it, my bike needs new inner tubes, my house is a mess and it's my fault so I need to clean it, I don't have time to do everything I need to do. Instead I'm once more suspended in my life, square in the center of now, letting it pull me along. Before it was more like swimmin gup against the front of the cage and continuously running into it.
Okay, so I'm not terribly coherent right now. It's before breakfast. I should put a load of laundry in. I've been living at my own house a lot, and thus it's been getting dirty.
My home is pretty wonderful. The bedroom is getting to how I want it to be, approaching something that's the kind of high-functioning sex/sanctuary/creative space/wardrobe/rathome/library that I need it to be. I want to put the small glass-topped table in it so I can work on my inks there. I also need another set of drawers, or maybe another chest in there. Anyone know a dresser going begging that's not made of heavy-duty cardboard?
But time to run away and do laundry. It's been a long time, it's nice to be mostly back. Hope your holidays all went well, and that you're settling well into the thing that comes after-- you know, your normal life.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 03:01 pm (UTC)*snicker, snicker* OK, the phrase 'botanically incorrect' cracked me up. Yet, I fully understand what you're saying. It feels very like me attempting to stifle the internal criticism of the Roman soldier uniforms during Easter plays. I've only ever seen one Easter play that I found nothing to criticize in their Roman soldiers.
At least with the passion play I can remind myself that they're just regular people putting on a lovely telling of the most important story, and the fact that the Roman soldier's shield is a shape that didn't come in till the medieval period has no effect on the accuracy of the storyline and the importance of Christ's death and resurrection. :D