I dreamed I was living in the City. This time it was a combination of New York and Seattle. I was on an extended vacation. I had been spending more and more time there. I was there with my friend KJ and with Jessica, who was in my last dream. KJ and Jessica were living there. I was there for 3 weeks. I was crashing with Jessica because there’s no way I afford a hotel for that long. We would talk and hang out. We were at a open floor bar having mojitos, my favorite vacation drink. I confessed my intention to move to the City. Jessica told me about a job interview where the position was with a small company. The boss was the interviewer and he was a oversharer. He was demonstrating his singing for some reason and she laughed with incredulity. He got red faced angry and kicked her out.
She said it was expensive to live there. We drank our drinks and walked out. I glanced away for a second and they were both gone. KJ, I expected him to wander off. But when she disappeared it like I became lost in the city minutes before I had felt at home enough that I wanted to stay. Then my calf siezed in a Charlie horse and I woke up.
Thoughts
Companionable silence etc
I think I’ve posted a poem exactly, almost, like this one. I still love this woman. Her situation hasn’t changed but I foolishly hold out hope that she will make a choice that changes it. I think that is stupid of me. But I don’t want to lose her. Being beside her is often enough. That’s so rare. But I know I need more. But I will hold on to us as long as I can.
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Dream
I had a dream last night. I was living in London but not real London. It was the dreamscape I refer to as the City. It’s based on a amalgam of cities I’ve spent time in. DC, New York, Seattle and Phoenix. But the whole time we were calling it London and making comments about Britain. There was a subplot of looking for/running from something. That is general anxiety. But the over notes were me as observor of these friends of mine living their lives and having fun. I’m on the periphery. Offering advice and comments, jokes. And we all occasionally have sex. Singly or in groups. It’s all very companionable. It’s like these are the people. That goes on for half the dream. I then notice someone who I know in my actual life is on the periphery as well. And this is odd because it’s not any of my current people I’m courting. We aren’t dating, aren’t seeing each other, it’s something more than friendship, and I am looking to have it be more, what else do I call it but courting? Anyway, it’s this woman Jessica whom I have always been attracted to and who has always been interesting. It’s odd because I haven’t seen or even interacted with her in years. We all as a group go to the Bookstore. Which in my mind is a good place filled with great memories and also books, so Sqee. She’s on my left side and we are looking through the books and I invite her to an opera. I like opera, never actually been to one but my dream self doesn’t seem to have that problem. I ask and she says, wonder of wonders, yes. Now to put this in context we met years ago when she was seeing someone else. It was never the right time for us. If there even could have been an us. And here she is in my dream, we are planning a date together, which is my preference. I like collaboration not dictation. Her elbow is touching mine. A prolonged contact. Deliberate. We pick an opera and I wake up. Weird.
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Simple thought
If I have fucked up in some way, I want to know how. I can’t correct something if I don’t know it happened. I can be oddly oblivious.
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Thoughts on reciprocity and love
There is nothing I desire more than to have the love I am, the love I send out be returned to me by those I love. I suppose that’s where my failure lays. That I need that love to be returned to me.
It’s counter intuitive. When we love, we want, we desire, that love to be returned to us. But that is placing a boundary on love. It is saying that I will only love if I gain from doing so. And that is not love. That is calculation, that is want.
Or perhaps I am painting myself as someone to be held to a different standard because there are none who return my love. And it is easier to say that that is a fault of humanity instead of my fault. That those my heart love are always the ones least likely to love me back.
Or maybe the truth, TRUTH, lays somewhere in between. Maybe I need to be a bit more forgiving of my own needs, my own desires.
Or maybe I just need someone to hold me and tell me it will be OK.
Perhaps I should accept the fragility of my heart and just accept that as long as I am honest in my love, as long as those I love know that They Are Loved, I have done all that I can.
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The morning after
Watching me spin out isn’t much fun. I know. I thank anyone who likes one of those posts. Sometimes they are good and sometimes I’m just riding the ragged edge between madness and sanity. Thank you for sticking around.
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Set back after setback
There is a point where I can feel you letting me go and I scrabble for purchase but I can’t quite hold on to you. And I say you like you are the only one to do this but I have become so familiar with this that I can feel it happening. I feel you slipping away from me and I don’t know how to hold on to you and I don’t know if there is something I’m not saying that keeps you walking away. This isn’t a novel. I don’t know the words to say that tells you to stay. I don’t know the action to take that convinces you. If I did, I would have said it, done it. But you, you, you. It’s each person who has drifted away from me. What am I doing or not doing that causes or contributes to this? Maybe I seem fun and simple but then you get to know me and I’m complex, maybe you are good with that too, then I hit a day of too little sleep and too much stress and all my emotions start racing around and I bottle it up, trying to hold it together and you ask what’s wrong, not taking my honesty pledge seriously enough, and I say everything that is eating at me and it’s like standing in front of a sandblaster. And I’m immediately regretful and I try to put us back together but now I don’t have anything to stand on but this quicksand because I know I fucked up but feel like I didn’t. That this maelstrom is a part of me, and I have to work with yours, why don’t you have to work with mine. I’m not uncomplicated, not simple, not easy. I don’t know how to get you from the slow crawl of beginning to nestled close to my heart. I don’t know how we can get there. And I am so tired of trying and failing. The people that love me but not romantically say that a person is out there, but that’s not what I feel. I feel like my person is gone, she’s not coming back. I feel like I acted with care and love and it wasn’t enough. Each time it’s not enough. I keep trying, because that’s what I am built for but, each time, it’s like a new stab wound. My heart reels back trying to heal and my mind tries to figure out what the misstep was. It never ends.
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Emotional shotgun: Poetry edition
Why follow me
Lead through the mists of my own dissolution, disillusion
Lost in the loves I can’t quite reach
The ones never quite enough
Like a pincushion of blades
Each support the other
Pull one to watch me fall apart
Watch me as I eat my feelings
All to keep me from buying that shotgun
And finally going through with silent plans
Follow me?
I can only lead you to dark places
Where cries and screaming, sobs
Break the too still silence
And that’s on a good day
When planning fails to give way to plotting
It’s not a solution, but it is, isn’t it
When you believe in a afterlife and you won’t be judged for walking away
It’s the peace of not being
But I have my fear to keep me here
My fear that I am seconds from finding her or him and I just need to stick it out
They say you have to love yourself first, well I like myself, love maybe but here’s the thing about they say
THEY don’t know shit
Time heals all wounds? Bullshit spouted by the delusional and the optimistic that have never been wounded deeply.
There’s someone for everyone? What if my someone is dead or speaks Mandarin and lives in rural China? Bullshit
It’s a cakewalk of platitudes when you’re looking for answers
Or maybe just a place to lay your head
And a hand to hold, lips to kiss
And words to say
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Some information
The simple fact is that I can be a hard man to get to know. The superficial things all speak to a deeper need that I am unlikely to share willingly, without resentment, early on. And I lead with my heart. If I can see you, be around you regularly, then I can temper the desires, the passions, that burn through me.
Fires you are unlikely to note at first. My face is schooled. My expressions minute. I smile but only when ecstatic. Otherwise, note the crinkly around my eyes. That’s me smiling. If I’m nervous, I can seem cold and distant, especially if I don’t know what you want.
If you want to take things physical, tell me. My consent meter is dialed to 11. If there is not clear, often verbal, consent I will not act. I will not touch you without your consent. If you say no, or stop. I will immediately back off.
I tell few stories about the past. I can talk for days about fictional characters or what and who I’m writing, but a funny anecdote is unlikely. Tell me your stories, I’ll listen. I want to hear them all. I’ll try to share relevant details of my own. I have a sense of humor but it’s dark and I’m more given to the one liner or double entendre than a joke.
I love hard. And will never let you go in my heart. But I will let you go, if that is your desire. I want the people I love to be happy. If that’s not with me, I’ll be sad, but I prefer you to be happy. Just talk to me. Allow me the opportunity to sway you, or the dignity to let you go.
I am a BDSM switch, predominantly master. That is a part of who I am. It is not a game I play. If you are a submissive, I will treasure you. I rule through pleasure, care and love. We all have our own speeds, teach me yours. I’m flexible.
I’ve done things, been places, met people. I’ve been around the block. I will surprise you, if you allow that you don’t know how I will react. Very often, it’s not how you would expect.
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In the face of potential disaster
We love who we love. You may not understand why I love the people I do. Or how that love manifests itself. But it is love.
You cannot fix me. I am not broken.
You cannot outlaw me. I have tasted freedom.
You cannot remove my rights. I will fight.
I have loved regardless of gender.
I have loved people.
I have loved individuals.
I love now.
I will love in the future.
I am not alone. We are not alone.
Pelgris 