You dreampt that you and Phillip were at the University of Maryland, going to some sort of reading or concert or something that was in an opera hall except that it was designed like Bauhaus or an Escher drawing. On the walls there were animated books that turned into butterflies, and had a Dr. Suess quality to them, they moved, they flew. You thought it was stupid for a university to have such a childish motif and that this is why there is such an education gap. The hall had a few tiers. You were on the top tier and it wasn't like a normal tier, the stairs were scary as fuck like a catwalk. You looked out towards the stage and down to the orchestra seating and were terrified. Normally, you just grab on to the balustrade or rails or walk backwards when your acrophobia kicks in, but this time, as Phillip began to lead you out to out your seats, you were so scared that you ran back up the stairs and threw yourself on the floor, spread eagle, to feel more secure. Phillip came up after you and didn't try to make you go out to the seats again. You tried to imagine how you could crocodile your way out to the seats, but never went. Phillip sat next to you at the top of the stairs and it was okay.
Phillip told you last night that there are changes happening in his life. that you might get to sleep next to him for the rest of your life. you are scared of falling again. but he'll stay with you. he won't let you live in fear, won't push too hard. older and wiser and tempered.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
exercise restraint of pen and thumb
Because you have insomnia, or a guilty conscience, you're awake at 12:24AM on a work night. You are also incredibly old because up at 12:25AM on a work night isn't really that late. When did you become so lame? Meh. Own it.
You wonder if writing down some of your crazier thoughts will exorcise them. You wonder if it will cause more damage, a blog is a public space after all. You convince yourself that you're not that important and that no one reads this thing anyway. You are not too hopeful about the exorcism either.
While taking a piss earlier tonight you realized that you haven't thought about the vision wall in a long time. Where did those pictures go? Of you and Phillip and your imaginary family. You always imagined Oliver would be the first child, making the gender ratio more men than women in the house. Phillip's current family is his wife and daughter and mother, who lives close by, and female cousin soon to go to university. These are dangerous thoughts to write out. These could hurt her feelings if she knew them.
It'd be better not to say anything here. If this is not the place, stop writing, take a bath, brush your teeth, drink some tea. Do anything other than write something you may regret. Exercise restraint of pen and tongue.
If you think this is the place to air out fantasies and ignore the tenth step, reconsider your motivations and pray for the willingness to be a kind human being.
You wonder if writing down some of your crazier thoughts will exorcise them. You wonder if it will cause more damage, a blog is a public space after all. You convince yourself that you're not that important and that no one reads this thing anyway. You are not too hopeful about the exorcism either.
While taking a piss earlier tonight you realized that you haven't thought about the vision wall in a long time. Where did those pictures go? Of you and Phillip and your imaginary family. You always imagined Oliver would be the first child, making the gender ratio more men than women in the house. Phillip's current family is his wife and daughter and mother, who lives close by, and female cousin soon to go to university. These are dangerous thoughts to write out. These could hurt her feelings if she knew them.
It'd be better not to say anything here. If this is not the place, stop writing, take a bath, brush your teeth, drink some tea. Do anything other than write something you may regret. Exercise restraint of pen and tongue.
If you think this is the place to air out fantasies and ignore the tenth step, reconsider your motivations and pray for the willingness to be a kind human being.
Monday, June 24, 2013
what have i done.
you don't even know where to start.
all of your stories have different endings, but the beginnings are all fairly clear.
this beginning is much more ambiguous. you don't know where it left off. that's not entirely true. it left off when you blocked his phone calls and blocked his emails. But now, you don't know where it fits it and so you don't know what you're supposed to do with it. it defies all the rationalizations and categorizations and compartmentalizations that you've made over the past decade in regards to Phillip.
he sent you a text message sometime last year at one o'clock in the morning asking, "were we ever friends?" and you ignored it because of the time and because you didn't think he had his head on straight. maybe he would have regretted talking to you in the morning.
when you were in a moment, where the bunny ears weren't adjusted right, and everything was very grainy and you kept on calling and calling at 2am because the light was on in what you mistakenly thought was his apartment building, it was his neighbors light. You and his neighbor became friends after you stopped talking with Phillip. He was an amazing writer, caustic and shy, capable of great kindness and sarcasm. He died a month ago, so after complete radio silence for four years, you told Phillip. It seemed like righteous motivations.
but now you're so confused. some days you wake up and feel like you found the other pea of your platonic pea pod, other days, he's your unicorn and you've done enough of sitting and being a virgin to know that he's the unicorn to your virgin and that you're the unicorn to his virgin. you cried yourself to sleep last night, lamenting the fact that it took four years for you to figure out that men have emotions and are human, which was essentially, the lack of understanding you had when you were together. he was a possession, not an entirely seperate entity from you and not a reflection of you.
'what have i done.' that's what you think today. tomorrow, you may be ten shades of happy that he is married to a beautiful woman with the most adorable daughter. taking care of his mother. being an adult. and you may be so happy that he has found the freedom to be all of these things, husband, father, son, with someone else. you have to remember, 'it wasn't me. he didn't do these things with me.'
and do you allow yourself to dream about what happens with either feeling, how do they play out, what do they look like, so that you can figure out how do you act, what is appropriate behavior. it's all very ambiguous. after a year of practicing meditation, that's where you turn. inwards, watching the emotions as they stick to certain places in your body, recognizing the feelings and listening to what feels right, turn to page 100. to make up some fan fiction, turn to page 101.
all of your stories have different endings, but the beginnings are all fairly clear.
this beginning is much more ambiguous. you don't know where it left off. that's not entirely true. it left off when you blocked his phone calls and blocked his emails. But now, you don't know where it fits it and so you don't know what you're supposed to do with it. it defies all the rationalizations and categorizations and compartmentalizations that you've made over the past decade in regards to Phillip.
he sent you a text message sometime last year at one o'clock in the morning asking, "were we ever friends?" and you ignored it because of the time and because you didn't think he had his head on straight. maybe he would have regretted talking to you in the morning.
when you were in a moment, where the bunny ears weren't adjusted right, and everything was very grainy and you kept on calling and calling at 2am because the light was on in what you mistakenly thought was his apartment building, it was his neighbors light. You and his neighbor became friends after you stopped talking with Phillip. He was an amazing writer, caustic and shy, capable of great kindness and sarcasm. He died a month ago, so after complete radio silence for four years, you told Phillip. It seemed like righteous motivations.
but now you're so confused. some days you wake up and feel like you found the other pea of your platonic pea pod, other days, he's your unicorn and you've done enough of sitting and being a virgin to know that he's the unicorn to your virgin and that you're the unicorn to his virgin. you cried yourself to sleep last night, lamenting the fact that it took four years for you to figure out that men have emotions and are human, which was essentially, the lack of understanding you had when you were together. he was a possession, not an entirely seperate entity from you and not a reflection of you.
'what have i done.' that's what you think today. tomorrow, you may be ten shades of happy that he is married to a beautiful woman with the most adorable daughter. taking care of his mother. being an adult. and you may be so happy that he has found the freedom to be all of these things, husband, father, son, with someone else. you have to remember, 'it wasn't me. he didn't do these things with me.'
and do you allow yourself to dream about what happens with either feeling, how do they play out, what do they look like, so that you can figure out how do you act, what is appropriate behavior. it's all very ambiguous. after a year of practicing meditation, that's where you turn. inwards, watching the emotions as they stick to certain places in your body, recognizing the feelings and listening to what feels right, turn to page 100. to make up some fan fiction, turn to page 101.
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