Saturday, July 24, 2010

Yearning

It is 84,000 degrees out. It has been a disco inferno almost all of July. I prefer sweltering to shivering but this is getting ridiculous. The swampy outside is making my mind a barren smoking wasteland whether I am in or out of doors. Too hot to think, too hot to write, too hot to do anything but drink mint juleps and have sex but I haven't the ingredients for either of those on hand, so I guess I will just be thirsty.

There is a haze over everything right now. I long to break on through to the other side, to dive cleanly into shocking cold waters, to neatly break the surface with an elegant splash, touch the bottom, and swim to the top. Emerging for air not sputtering but with a kind of clear, wet grace.

I spend too much time alone, methinks. I miss the company of others. I miss the tangled web we weave when we climb into a relationship. I know the threads are slender and sticky and sometimes invisible, but I want to crawl into the middle anyway and sigh just enough to breathe. Don't want entrapment, don't want to be blinded by a coocoon. Want to use my legs and my arms and my mouth to devour in a perfect dance where we are both at once prey and predator. Want to give as good as I get.

I used to know that I was a lover and a fighter. I used to be goddamned if I would let them take that away from me. Now I am not so sure. I am ex-patriot living in a foreign country on my own, where rain makes the pavement shine like silver and all the lights are misty in the river. My mind plays tricks on me. It records moments and presses play unbidden at the strangest moments. Hidden camera shit because at the time it rolls I don't realize I am being taped. And then the reels are revealed, the colors restored, the archives updated with a kind of permanence that gives one pause as to whether some things are just meant to disappear and remain a perfect memory.

Sense memory? I do not know. Maybe I don't care to know. But I push it away, I try to eject but I cannot look away because it is happening to me, body and soul. Feed the one to nourish the other but I suspect all that is happening is that what I need is what destroys me.

I long to belong. And for the aforementioned mint juleps, served bedside with a twist.

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