Maybe it's hard to appreciate, but pure pitch black night is beautiful. We live in a world of brilliant neon, bright street lights, convenient light switches and flashlights. We always want the lights on to lead the way. Have you ever stopped to look at the darkness? Soak in the emptiness of not being able to see what is near you? Close to you? In front of you?
Look up. Look up at the stars on a clear night. Look up at the half moon shining through a cloudy sky. Look up at the storm overhead. Wait for lightning to illuminate. Then pause. Breathe in deep. We were born in darkness. There's always a light. Sometimes you just need to wait for it.
Then close your eyes, the darkness behind your lids is the same, isn't it? Think where you are walking. Don't trip. Think about the uneven sidewalk. A lightning bug will help. A little bit. Feel what is around you. Sense what is around you. Know what is around you. Don't run into the wall that has been there for a hundred years, a thousand years.
1/2 Just Ten Lines
Into my dreams
Knows only darkness
Water. There was a crap ton of rain this week. The ground is soggy. My dog hates the rain. I get annoyed when the mail person doesn't fully close the mailbox after delivering the mail when it's raining. The bills are drenched.
Water. You are there every morning when those delicately ground beans meet the gurgling noise as you rush through the coffee maker. Blend yourself with velvet black heaven. Awaken my eyes. Get me moving. Thinking.
Water. You meet my Ramen noodles, it's lunch time. It's cheap, I know. But those noodles just absorb you. And it's quick. Dirty deeds should be done quick. Bowl to spoon to mouth. I feel nourished. Time to move on.
Water. What's for dinner. I boil potatoes to feed the hungry children I raise. You make them soft and smashable (not the kids, of course). In the crock pot, you spend 6 hours with my chicken. Warm dinner. A family meal.
Water. Those cold winter nights you spin around in my microwave for two whole minutes so that you can meet powdered chocolate with dehydrated marshmallows. You bring smiles to red cheeks that have been playing in the snow.
Water. From deep within the earth, my well pump delivers you to cleanse me. I stand in the shower, completely naked in front of you. You rinse the dirt from my body as I scrub myself clean.
Water. In the spring, the random pots of who knows what plant that awakens from it's winter slumber. You help them. Awaken the roots that suck you in to become green and vibrant with beautiful flowers.
Water. 10 nautical miles of you surround me on all sides. Your swells rock me. I cannot breathe you, but I can taste you. I can let you engulf me. You hide a life within you. Your children.
Water. I mix you with fruit and sugar and yeast. You ferment. To turn to wine that I bottle. And enjoy on those cool summer nights. On the front porch. In my chair. And drift away.
Water. You come down on me. In tiny droplets. And I spin around allowing you to touch every inch of me. My hair, drenched. My clothes soaked. I tilt my head back to catch you in my thirsty mouth. Quench my thirst. Keep me alive.
"What did you do today?"
"What did you play?"
"Oh. Barbies, Legos, outside, that stuff."
Am I getting too old? Do I forget what it means to play? Everything is so serious. My list of 10 things times 3 that I need to get done? They get crossed off very slowly as the kids are out playing. I want to go play. To not have a care in the world other than to just have fun. Maybe in a few years. That is all for now.
I haven't shaved in 22 days. The facial hair is past the itchy stage except for the few mustache(ish) hairs that twice a day decide to tickle my lips. I just brush them out of the way and carry on. They say that facial hair grows faster when you think about sex all the time. I suppose that's why I don't have a full beard or anything like that, it's more like brown fuzz on my face.
Three months ago, stranded in an airport bar in Phoenix, AZ, I bought a drink for a lady standing next to me. Both of us were waiting for a flight to different destinations. In the random of the world, turns out, we had mutual acquaintances. Small world. She called me last week, she needed a favor. I executed. After the "use me" conversation was complete, we decided to stay in touch with travel plans and meet up soon for a drink in a random airport. Random airport.
Who the fuck does that? My bags are always packed, always ready to go, but 22 days no shave, 3 months later? And I think I'm wearing dirty socks since the dog has done a real good job of finding all the clean ones. But in the end, it's just a drink. And a drink is just a drink. And dinner is just dinner. Why is it so hard to relay to people that most things in life, well, they don't have strings. Even if you admit that you would like strings.
Ten things are 10 things.
I've been having this recurring dream for the last 10 days now. It's really strange. It would be cool to say that it involves an exotic lady half my age, but that's really not the case. It starts out at dusk. I'm at a party of sorts, there's a pool. It's a night where there should be galactic things going on in the skies. So this crowd is standing in the grass looking up at the sky. The one time in a billion years where there is a blue night sky. And the sky lights up. Not like lightning, but strange azure patterns brightening the dark dark, blue sky.
Then there were waves. Waves of baby blue light that dance in the darkness. Almost teasing the crowd as they stare up in awe. This lasts for a time and is then followed by more flashes. Different patterns of chaos in the heavens. And then bubbles. Perfectly formed bubbles 10 inches in diameter floating everywhere. And I grabbed one. As soon as I did, I was floating. I heard someone say, "breathe out to descend, in to ascend." I tried this procedure. I was stuck, holding on for dear life on the gutter of some nearby house. Looking down on the *pool* party.
Someone threw a rope and pulled me down. I ended up sitting on a tractor, holding on to combat negative gravity. Not knowing if I would float into space or not. Breathing out as much as possible. And then I drove the tractor into the ocean. The squid lined up in a row and stared at me like I was a foreign creature in their world. The eagle rays brushed by, gently caressing my skin. The tide carried me, I swam and breathed water. It felt heavy, but clean. Perfect.
I ended up on a beach. Uncharted. Untouched. Someone was there.
My Dearest Dyson,
I remember the first time I met you, all clammed up in your box. You were my ex wife's pride and joy. She wouldn't let me touch you. I held back and respected her request, though I constantly admired your sleek curves as you gently rolled across the floor sucking effortlessly. It always gave me goose bumps to see you in motion. Sometimes when she was away, I would sneak in your room and turn you on, but it was always a quick turn on, I didn't want her to know. Then one day, she left and took you with her. I was devastated, but I remembered that one time when you used my cell to call your twin sister. So I went out on a limb and called her. We met at Target and she was just like you, all clammed up in her box at first. But once we got home and I took her out, she really opened up. We raced through the house, she was shaking her money maker all over my bedroom floor. Her curves, wow. We danced through the hall, sometimes I was only wearing boxers, but she never seemed to mind. Everything was turning out beautiful. Over time, though, we saw less and less of each other. Sometimes the house cleaner would come over and she would get turned on and completely ignore me. I was OK with it at first. But then something happened, times when I really needed her, it seemed as though something had clogged her head. She wouldn't do the things she used to do. I thought it was me. I nurtured her for awhile. Some days were bad, others just sucked. Then yesterday, I thought I had it all figured out. We sat down and I gently caressed her and finally cleared her head. And we went back to dancing down the hall and rolling around the bedroom until... I broke her heart. Well, actually it was the little red thing that you step on to get the vacuum to go into "sweep the floor mode." So, since you are sisters, do you think I should call your Dad and see if I can get a replacement heart or should I just let her slouch in the corner. She just won't stand up anymore. I. Just. Don't. Know. If. I. Can. Take. It. I love her, but it's killing me to see her this way. I want to fix it. But is it worth it? Please help!
First of all, you didn't technically hack my blog, you have your own account you silly dog. Secondly, you did hack my FaceBook when you posted the link to your plea for me, uh, you. You should know what happens when someone hacks my FaceBook, I get pretty upset. Aside from that, I don't know if I should be mad at you or not. It was a very sweet attempt at trying to find someone for me, uh, you. I should probably let you know that "relationship" laps don't just magically fall out of the sky. It takes time, and commitment and energy and happy blissful feelings that make you all tingly inside. All in all though, you got most of it right. I am mad that you think I'm so old! As for that black stuff, it's called coffee and I will never let you drink it again after the last episode. Remember that? You drank the rest of my cup and bounced off the walls for hours. Yeah, that stuff is reserved for humans, sorry. Do remember that if your little scheme was to work, I could potentially owe my son a thousand dollars. Yeah, that's right, one thousand. The bet was he would have a girlfriend before me. I don't want to lose, but since you started this whole thing, and after thinking about it, it would be kinda cool, with the right person, er, uh, lap. Sorry. I assume you are going to want to meet her first? Please don't embarrass me any more than you already have. I'll be home when I get home. Remember, I pay the bills around here. Kidding, I'll be home at a reasonable hour and no, she won't take your side of the bed. You didn't think about that, did you? Quit stressing my sweets, these things take time, if it's meant to happen, then it will. Your lap will come along. Until then, please just be content with my lap. Let's go for a walk...
You came over tonight. It was the first time we met. In person.You sat down in the other rocking chair like you owned it. You didn't. It's mine. You said get over the whatever. I fought back a little. I made excuses. Yes, I realize how I was acting. I understand. I was being emotional. You tried to convince me that I was wrong. I couldn't hear it. Where are you going with this?
I was warned that you did not like guys that were short. You are not so tall yourself. I never knew until today. Six months after the fire.
You left. Abrupt. I was lost until I thought. I was thinking of the course of events. Do I. Should I.
We cannot be anywhere near each other. That's been the case. Yet you continued to contact me. Why? You tried to reason with me tonight. It worked for a bit. I was almost there. Bow down to your desires. Kiss your feet. But.
You cannot play puppeteer with me. I am me. I will forever be me. You have yet to convince me that my 10 fears can be eased by your presence. There is more to love than that. I want to. But I can't. And I won't.
It is funny that I think of you tonight. Well. Not funny in the belly laugh sort of way. Funny in what I am about to expose. How I feel. I'm not quite sure why I hang my hat on everything that is you. Be it thought. Be it dream. Be it crush. It will never be so. I will never hold your hand. I will never taste your salty tears. I will never touch your tender lips. You may as well be a ghost. A ghost in my head. Floating. You hold yourself ten feet tall. A height that I cannot reach. You are miles away. I get that. Miles can be broken. I need you. I need your questions. So direct. What do you think of that? It's bold, isn't it. Fuck yeah, it is! What do you think of that?
You won't respond, you won't replay the memories that I have made we have shared. It is funny. Like that. Not in a belly laugh sort of way. And we don't have much. Time.
I go on. You go on. I dream of hedgehogs. You dream of him. The him is not me. My hedgehog is not you. Or is it?
I go to this place. In this place. In the end, it always is you. You are in my place.
Because I want you there. I don't know if you want to be there. You laugh, it's funny. The way I slowly draw the knife. The way they would teach you in culinary school. I didn't go there. Or did I. It's not a belly laugh funny moment. Deeper. River of blood. Thick. Crimson. Pain. Lust.
I sit here in a pool of tears. I never told you how I felt. I could not tell you. I just swallowed it up. That you would never love me. I laugh. Not the belly laugh. The I'll be OK laugh. And I am. I think. I'm not. Because I'll never touch your tender lips and never taste your salty tears. Tonight, I think of you, ten feet away from my heaven.