Oh a kiss of words! A delight.
Finally from a love
From one who knows how to stroke me right.
This, this nugget of me from old
I dusted this off. It's of you
Your family those folk you know.
To me this is how I am loved.
Seems strange. And quickly morose, denied.
I wonder
Why
No, it's fabulous to get that
But wanting is pure hell
Waiting... I should practice waiting.
I do. I try to find LONG stretches of time.
Hang on long moments.
Always alone.
There's something to that. This thing.
Alone.
I would like to be alone, next to someone. To get that space
Monday, October 8, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
By Request
time being not of the essence
I work my way through work,
largely thinking of last night
replaying each scene
do you do that?
the initial meeting -- full of fright and delight
a handshake, a shock
lips, glossed and luminous
eyes, big and bright
I was immediately in.
Awkward, yes, but there
leading you down the sidewalk
buying beverages and sitting in the shade
starting the talking
Slightly afraid to look directly into your eyes
an intense woman stared back
and smiled
with every cell
Talking
talking people talking concepts
telling stories
Was I talking too much?
I left worrying
You took notes:
words you hadn't heard
websites, names
You insisted I correct you
when your English was too English
and I was delighted
for so many reasons
You talked about "working on the bench"
and spending all your time in the lab.
I imagine ueber-focused you in a long white coat
unaware of an untied shoe or a half-eaten lunch
We talked translation and knowing
And perspective
When I stopped talking you didn't squirm
We dined and talked and laughed
We walked and talked less and touched
palm to palm, fingers entwined then not
I became both more comfortable and
more insecure.
What next? What next?
No idea but I'm flying now.
Blisters bubbled on my foot.
I drove you home, worried about my driving
and giving you whiplash with a gear shift.
You insisted on icing my blisters
and I let you touch my funky feet
embarrassed about untrimmed nails.
I remember: playing your electronic drums
and asking you to play.
I remember standing behind you and you leaning back into me.
The touch of you feeling like a memory
The top of your head and your hair
coarse under my lips.
Am I going too fast? Too wild?
Too close too soon?
Maybe not enough!
The options are endless
and I ask for information:
what are you thinking?
a brief tour of the house and then I'm leaving
Too sudden? My timing is off and my heart is racing.
I'm awkward in my head but barreling through.
Porch. Front door cracked open.
Your face, luminous
and I don't think I stopped at all to think before
pressing my lips to yours
Sweet softness with response
Kiss and then a deep breath
that may have been the world moving under you
More, I want, and so I take
You kiss back, with passion and reservation
You shut the door and I walk to my car,
always wanting more, but I feel you hold back
"What?" I ask.
"I don't really know the neighborhood."
I'm boorish, I realize, and pushy, frisky and grabby.
Yes, I would have loved to go back inside. Take back my
departing phrases and take off my hat.
should've?
I'm a greedy little bugger and maybe too much
would have loved to
make you stay up too late
I work my way through work,
largely thinking of last night
replaying each scene
do you do that?
the initial meeting -- full of fright and delight
a handshake, a shock
lips, glossed and luminous
eyes, big and bright
I was immediately in.
Awkward, yes, but there
leading you down the sidewalk
buying beverages and sitting in the shade
starting the talking
Slightly afraid to look directly into your eyes
an intense woman stared back
and smiled
with every cell
Talking
talking people talking concepts
telling stories
Was I talking too much?
I left worrying
You took notes:
words you hadn't heard
websites, names
You insisted I correct you
when your English was too English
and I was delighted
for so many reasons
You talked about "working on the bench"
and spending all your time in the lab.
I imagine ueber-focused you in a long white coat
unaware of an untied shoe or a half-eaten lunch
We talked translation and knowing
And perspective
When I stopped talking you didn't squirm
We dined and talked and laughed
We walked and talked less and touched
palm to palm, fingers entwined then not
I became both more comfortable and
more insecure.
What next? What next?
No idea but I'm flying now.
Blisters bubbled on my foot.
I drove you home, worried about my driving
and giving you whiplash with a gear shift.
You insisted on icing my blisters
and I let you touch my funky feet
embarrassed about untrimmed nails.
I remember: playing your electronic drums
and asking you to play.
I remember standing behind you and you leaning back into me.
The touch of you feeling like a memory
The top of your head and your hair
coarse under my lips.
Am I going too fast? Too wild?
Too close too soon?
Maybe not enough!
The options are endless
and I ask for information:
what are you thinking?
a brief tour of the house and then I'm leaving
Too sudden? My timing is off and my heart is racing.
I'm awkward in my head but barreling through.
Porch. Front door cracked open.
Your face, luminous
and I don't think I stopped at all to think before
pressing my lips to yours
Sweet softness with response
Kiss and then a deep breath
that may have been the world moving under you
More, I want, and so I take
You kiss back, with passion and reservation
You shut the door and I walk to my car,
always wanting more, but I feel you hold back
"What?" I ask.
"I don't really know the neighborhood."
I'm boorish, I realize, and pushy, frisky and grabby.
Yes, I would have loved to go back inside. Take back my
departing phrases and take off my hat.
should've?
I'm a greedy little bugger and maybe too much
would have loved to
make you stay up too late
Actively Forget
(this is an old one, written in the fall of 2011)
Yes.
Specifically to actively forget, to move on, to keep going, just like I said I was. I never stopped.
Don't do it, friends said. You'll get attached.
Of course I'll get attached. I loves me some attachment, I do.
Metered, please. Controlled, but oh! Not that much.
Shopping for soulmates never works. I would that I could be silent with someone. It occurs to be this should be a prerequisite and perhaps an addition to my various online dating profiles. "Must be able to be still and watch." That's not it, either.
The stop-start of conversation is different with different people. And indeed different at different times. So sweet when it seems to flow naturally, mutually.
Ah mutuality! Where have you been? Why do you live so far away?
No, nothing is perfect. Cracks and fissures emerge no matter how solid. I believe that. Which is why I relish in being able to watch myself, alone.
I try to find LONG stretches of time.
Hang on long moments.
Always alone.
There's something to that. This thing.
Alone.
But then there's this compelling thing about some people. What is that? What is that bell that gets rung in my head. It happens immediately, for the most part. Seriously. I know in five minutes if I'm going to fall for this one. Less. Two.
What is that?
Programming, let's say. And that's true for sure. Trying to resolve a relationship of the past. Trying to work past the point where we wondered "why can't I make this work?" And I wonder why. And how I can know so quickly. But I do, of this I am sure.
Oh that bell, that sweet sweet bell. I don't hear it but I feel the vibration go all through my body. And then I can't help but stare. Talk. Open up. There you go. Were you looking for my heart? Right here, hon.
Yeah, I know. Trying to win the attention of someone, that's my Achilles heel. I am relentlessly the six year old, doing a cannonball into the pool, picking out a tune on the piano, singing a Helen Reddy song by the slide tucked into the wading pool. It's good, I promise, and I mean earnestly. It's the best I've got and all I have and it's for you.
(brakes screech)
Right well, it used to go that far. Now I am relentlessly paranoid and guarded. Except for those internal gong moments, and then all bets are off. Pavlov's motherfucking bell, man.
Somehow I know that the initial attention is temporary, and I decide somewhere that I will prove myself, once and for all.
Yup.
Secret unlocked. Sim sala bim!
Now, out! All the madness and sadness and what the fuck are you CRYING about now? Huh? What you need, sister, is a good dose of Actively Forget. You need to open your eyes and look around. Never mind that Gong Sister you spied tonight. Keep it moving. Yes yesyes.
Come on. To bed. Your ass has to be up in the morning.
Yes.
Specifically to actively forget, to move on, to keep going, just like I said I was. I never stopped.
Don't do it, friends said. You'll get attached.
Of course I'll get attached. I loves me some attachment, I do.
Metered, please. Controlled, but oh! Not that much.
Shopping for soulmates never works. I would that I could be silent with someone. It occurs to be this should be a prerequisite and perhaps an addition to my various online dating profiles. "Must be able to be still and watch." That's not it, either.
The stop-start of conversation is different with different people. And indeed different at different times. So sweet when it seems to flow naturally, mutually.
Ah mutuality! Where have you been? Why do you live so far away?
No, nothing is perfect. Cracks and fissures emerge no matter how solid. I believe that. Which is why I relish in being able to watch myself, alone.
I try to find LONG stretches of time.
Hang on long moments.
Always alone.
There's something to that. This thing.
Alone.
But then there's this compelling thing about some people. What is that? What is that bell that gets rung in my head. It happens immediately, for the most part. Seriously. I know in five minutes if I'm going to fall for this one. Less. Two.
What is that?
Programming, let's say. And that's true for sure. Trying to resolve a relationship of the past. Trying to work past the point where we wondered "why can't I make this work?" And I wonder why. And how I can know so quickly. But I do, of this I am sure.
Oh that bell, that sweet sweet bell. I don't hear it but I feel the vibration go all through my body. And then I can't help but stare. Talk. Open up. There you go. Were you looking for my heart? Right here, hon.
Yeah, I know. Trying to win the attention of someone, that's my Achilles heel. I am relentlessly the six year old, doing a cannonball into the pool, picking out a tune on the piano, singing a Helen Reddy song by the slide tucked into the wading pool. It's good, I promise, and I mean earnestly. It's the best I've got and all I have and it's for you.
(brakes screech)
Right well, it used to go that far. Now I am relentlessly paranoid and guarded. Except for those internal gong moments, and then all bets are off. Pavlov's motherfucking bell, man.
Somehow I know that the initial attention is temporary, and I decide somewhere that I will prove myself, once and for all.
Yup.
Secret unlocked. Sim sala bim!
Now, out! All the madness and sadness and what the fuck are you CRYING about now? Huh? What you need, sister, is a good dose of Actively Forget. You need to open your eyes and look around. Never mind that Gong Sister you spied tonight. Keep it moving. Yes yesyes.
Come on. To bed. Your ass has to be up in the morning.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Must I Make a New Year's Blog Post? Yes? Fine. Jeez.
All right, I've been thinking about it for a while now and here's what my new year's resolutions are for this year:
-- be me, a little louder: I think it'll be okay. And the stuff that pops outta me is sometimes amazing. It's worth it to get to the good nuggets to deal with the flotsam that will also surely come
-- push the Columbo effect: That is to say, long awkward silences followed by weird questions. This works for me in terms of time needed to think. Might mean blocking out voices until I know what I need to understand, and then probe for more. Also, it's a fine meme for me. Work it.
-- get rumpled raincoat: It doesn't have to start rumpled, it'll get that way eventually naturally (re. the rest of your clothes) Also, get the stuff you need, dude, like socks and underwear. Handkerchiefs. Throw away the shit with holes. You make money: stop buying food and start buying clothes.
-- keep up the fight against fat: A great segue from the last, but true. I will ALWAYS have to be vigilant if I want to be successful with food. I love food. And food loves me. But we need some serious boundaries in our relationship. Love yourself. Love your body. Take good care of yourself, as you would your own child -- Lord knows someone needs to, finally.
-- be me, a little louder: I think it'll be okay. And the stuff that pops outta me is sometimes amazing. It's worth it to get to the good nuggets to deal with the flotsam that will also surely come
-- push the Columbo effect: That is to say, long awkward silences followed by weird questions. This works for me in terms of time needed to think. Might mean blocking out voices until I know what I need to understand, and then probe for more. Also, it's a fine meme for me. Work it.
-- get rumpled raincoat: It doesn't have to start rumpled, it'll get that way eventually naturally (re. the rest of your clothes) Also, get the stuff you need, dude, like socks and underwear. Handkerchiefs. Throw away the shit with holes. You make money: stop buying food and start buying clothes.
-- keep up the fight against fat: A great segue from the last, but true. I will ALWAYS have to be vigilant if I want to be successful with food. I love food. And food loves me. But we need some serious boundaries in our relationship. Love yourself. Love your body. Take good care of yourself, as you would your own child -- Lord knows someone needs to, finally.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Top Ten Times You Said Yes
It promises to a helluva year
And I will do what I can to do those things
That will make me a better man.
I will stop talking about myself in gender-confusing ways
I'll eat only my prescribed 1200 calories a day and
waste away, mind first
I'll speak more and write
Even more than that
We have to keep the ratio right
I'll set aside my need for
snugly love and lean into
leather lashes, properly provided
Pretend harder that I wouldn't be
Equally confused and undecided
Even if I had a picket fence & puppy
I will make more effort to learn
the purpose and power, to yearn
for the rhyme. I'll own it.
I will tear down the paper thin walls
that looked like steel for years
I'll be consistent in my stanza
my phrase
my intent
my love
My love will always be consistent
Consistently there, waiting, wondering
Wandering, hopeless like a child
No.
I'll stand as still as I need to and listen to the rush of wind. I will predict the acorn falling. I'll know what it's all for.
I'll finally get over the failure of my mother, although I'll never forgive her. I'll describe her deeds in detail and publish them all over the cloud.
I'll tell the story
of the mountain of me
and how I got to be
so
tall
I'll own it
because I'm that strong.
I'll stand still
and let the children climb over me.
I will laugh
my signature hearty chuckle
and it will shake the trees
And I'll say, "I called that one."
And it won't matter at all.
And we'll smile all the same.
The pain is part of it. This we know.
But look! Look.
There it is.
Found it.
And I will do what I can to do those things
That will make me a better man.
I will stop talking about myself in gender-confusing ways
I'll eat only my prescribed 1200 calories a day and
waste away, mind first
I'll speak more and write
Even more than that
We have to keep the ratio right
I'll set aside my need for
snugly love and lean into
leather lashes, properly provided
Pretend harder that I wouldn't be
Equally confused and undecided
Even if I had a picket fence & puppy
I will make more effort to learn
the purpose and power, to yearn
for the rhyme. I'll own it.
I will tear down the paper thin walls
that looked like steel for years
I'll be consistent in my stanza
my phrase
my intent
my love
My love will always be consistent
Consistently there, waiting, wondering
Wandering, hopeless like a child
No.
I'll stand as still as I need to and listen to the rush of wind. I will predict the acorn falling. I'll know what it's all for.
I'll finally get over the failure of my mother, although I'll never forgive her. I'll describe her deeds in detail and publish them all over the cloud.
I'll tell the story
of the mountain of me
and how I got to be
so
tall
I'll own it
because I'm that strong.
I'll stand still
and let the children climb over me.
I will laugh
my signature hearty chuckle
and it will shake the trees
And I'll say, "I called that one."
And it won't matter at all.
And we'll smile all the same.
The pain is part of it. This we know.
But look! Look.
There it is.
Found it.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Doctors
Okay, I admit it, it's true: I have a new found *thing* for doctors. Or maybe I'm simply just now identifying my predilection for the highly educated, highly motivated young woman doctor. They're so freaking cute!
The ER doc defintely started this trend, though I've always had a crush on my GP. You could've knocked me over with a feather when I saw the vet this morning. Of course her giant wedding ring was a (fairly) clear indicator that I should just stand down, but I was already agog.
I'm fairly certain that even the most socially inept individual can read my face. I am only mysterious at an Aspberger conference. So I'm certain the animal doc read me right away, leading to our mutual stammering-stuttering-blushing-fest as we talked fungus and ringworm and fleas.
I try not to look like an idiot. It doesn't always work.
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Thing About The Blogging
I know, I know. I should be writing. Snippy snazzy bits of sentences and half-baked ideas go flying through my head all the time. Usually when I'm driving.
For weeks I've been promisng myself to reconnect to Blogger via email so I could just whip out my smart phone and be pithy on the spot. Or, you know, pull over.
Some of my favorite bloggers have been really quiet for too long, also. And I'd like to harass them about writing more, but really couldn't with my own poor showing.
So let's get back to it, shall we? The world needs our snark and sarcasm. It's a dimmer place without excessive alliteration and our unique perspective. Not everybody can live upside-down, or inside-out, or... whatever the hell I'm doing.
Oo-rah!
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