Thursday, December 9, 2010

love in the first degree

Love in the First Degree…

Extinguished in a flash. 
Fried and out like a knowing
A knowing of trouble
Enjoying your heart, your sweets
The bitters the deeps
And the wanderings the keeps
Look at you
Sprained back to the beginning
Like it could ever be that again
Echoed in your silence your Sweden
Your cheats and treats
Your freeless freaks
Your freedom peaks
And piques
Until you reach
And the sun you always thought was standing there
Tells you slowly
And slowly
That it was never yours to reach

And the invitations you had from long ago
All week or two ago
That you said yes to
Yes yes yes

Don’t you know you are your mother?
Don’t you know?
And your father told her she was
Don’t you know?
Don’t you?
That is you.

I wanted to know I could forget.  Forgive.  Not think of it.
I wanted to know.
And Bjork kept me company.

I think I’ll go to Iceland and wear some thick pantyhose
And just manage
Not be nice
Not be mean
But meet in the middle of who I am, and what others expect, and what I can easily give

Who did I find on the salad line?  Who was he?  A block.  Someone who was standing there before me, glaring a smile to me on my 40th birthday.  He didn’t know.  He didn’t know that’s what I was doing there.  That I was looking to improve my being.  In love.  In life.  But mostly in opening my heart.  That was the class I took.  Then life coaching.  Why I wasn’t at my goals of 1) being published 2) with a love, and thereby family.  Why I wasn’t there? 

I sit here writing listening to Cake singing I Will Survive.  I wish I could believe those words.  I was told to cover myself.  To play the ignorer.  To make him wear out a hole on my doorstep.

You know what?  I mean it: just go away if you are not what I want in my life.  Just go away.  Now I know what it is to let go coldly.  To do it in emergency situations, where there is no time to linger in grief.  When you don’t have a year to cry like you did when you were 20, 30, but not now, dear, not now.  Don’t tell them you are married.  Don’t send them on their way.   Don’t smile insults and excuses, don’t shove.  Open your senses and hold yourself again, your selves born and unborn, and move yourself towards your beautiful dreams.  Tuck yourself in the undressed world, keep yourself in love, and you will sway in moments of past and pressed, reaching in stores of your right, your turn, your fortune, your tomorrows turned to now.  Reaching in your lyrics, floating memories, happenings of happiness regrets burns and slides beginners and lines.  Always sounding so rehearsed.  There is no soul that I could know better than my own, but I long to.  Want to.  And have the deepest desire to.

Its 2AM on Nov. 3.  I have nothing but nothing to do.  I have already decided that P lost me and in my defense I am losing him.  What sucks are all the things he never saw in me.  The idiot.  We are both idiots.  We are all idiots.  But I’m voting him more idiot than me.  So.  There we go.  I play diplomat and not say a word.  I do nothing.  I standby.  I act normal.  I slowly let this go.  I come to climax and fade.  I shear my thoughts of P.  In a little by little way.  Until I can completely let go.  Which shall be soon.

December 9, 2010
Well, I said I'd be sharing old stuff and new stuff on my visit to Paris.  That above is some of the old from a month ago.  A little airing of the emotion.

Today is the first sunny day in Paris for a week.  There's been a white mood in the snow and skies.  And this morning the snow muffins melted from my neighbor's glass tiled roof.  I'll be on my way to return an itchy sweater then take a long needed sunny stroll.  I'll meet my cousin for dinner tonight- I haven't seen her in over 10 years.  I finally put myself on facebook last night and the whole thing is time consuming, really, including the ability to chat- which should really be done orally, no?

I had a beautiful night with Faridj, Saphir and Valerie- at my apartment in the Marais.  Faridj and Saphir came over with all kinds of ingredients including a pineapple.  Pineapples are such celebration.  The look of them will raise any spirit.  We made a dinner out of nothing- it was divine, and we ceased at 5 in the morning.  This apartment has a candelabra like my old apartment in Montmartre- I feel so at home here.

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