baha'i temple

enjoying the gardens. very serene.

the magnetic disks

The pull of it is so strong it brought him down from his heights, from his work, from his orbiting out there in the ether to me, to stand near me, to breathe me in, to wallow in my presence. And I felt bad for him, that I've tried so hard to ignore him, that I've bickered with him for the sake of pushing him away, for the pretense that I don't care.

I do care. Of course I do. But I can't. Because one day he'll be gone. And then I'll never see him again. And I can't wait for that day. Even just ten minutes with him and I'm rendered into a paste of unformed clay. He's just too smart, so keen, the epitome of exuberant.

I push him away so that it'll be easier for me, but I never considered that it was hard for him to be around me, to see me, to hear my laughter, to see my smile, to wonder what I've been thinking.

As the days accumulate and the arrival of his departure comes closer, the breath I've been holding in is getting harder to hold and I know the release I'm waiting for will come sooner than it should and maybe, just maybe, there will be a breach in the contract we've crafted. I hope not; for it will all amount to nothing anyway.

hair cut; finally

Went in for a trim and got the $20 makeover.

crackled

It came as a complete surprise. It was supposed to be a nothing. A toss up. A beginning of something else.

I felt it surge through me and tried to lance it, to clamp it down, to keep it bound. And then he felt it too. He let me know with the tips of his fingers, and they travelled over me in a dance and I was delighted to imagine he felt it too. And even more impressed that he was able to express that in such a subtle perfect way.

Mmmm. Palpability is so much easier to digest. It's so gratifying. It reminds me that I've been doing it again, because something feels so much better than the nothing I've been trying to force.

Instant crackle. So so so good.

minor infractions of the space time continuum

Brunching with Luke and Val.

The plans for Luke's fourth grade performance...

hard day's work

Pinky with her mouse!

Brain hears something!

Pinky knows how to pose!

brain avoiding the camera.

the blank eyes

What I remember most about that night were his eyes. They were hollow, empty searchlights with no piercing or discernable direction, it was just two big holes where eyes should have been and his beautiful face in my direction and the collapse of my ability to remain cool.

If I tried to hold his gaze it didn't work and I could not muster a gesture that might convey that I wanted him to come near me and I was paralyzed by the fear that he thought I wanted to talk to someone more than him.

And so, somehow, we managed to make each other nervous enough to become strangers again, just like that, figments of our imaginations, images that didn't stand the test of reality; simply cardboard cutouts.

As I lick my figurative wounds (for on the outside all seemed fine and well) I wonder what to do now, whether to carry on with the building, to forage for yet more timber and bark to fill out this fire.

Or really, to admit that there isn't one at all.

avoiding frosting on the nose

Cupcake sandwiching!

why saturdays rock

Feedback from the book boss.

stenciled

saw this on a bus, went back to take the picture ten hours later.

Spring Yacht Club. The boats are slowly returning.

the lifted veil

Every day yields a new joy, a new sense of glory to erase the disappointments of the evening prior. It could be the smallest ripple, but it lands in my world in a huge swath, leading to secret smiles on my face. The smallest movement can change my whole world and send me spinning in a new direction and I'm glad for that. I'm happy that I can still be affected and still be open to new things.

Today it was no different, I went home last night with a sour bitter taste and woke to invitations to his world. I found out later that they were not exclusive to me, but it still leaves me with the choice of being a part of something other than myself, a road to travel and at the very least, some way to pass the unendurable time I seem to have acquired.

All I have is a series of moments, held in the wax that was last week, which seems so far away already, and yet, I needed to put some distance between them and me because it would be so easy to make them swirl in the haze of romance, to force them to be something they weren't, to read something into nothing.

What I learned last week is that I'm still not certain there's anything going on, that there's a spark, that we've got what it takes for each other. I could say but this and that, and yet, it could all be under the guise of friendliness.

I was muddled by the night, and dancing, and alcohol, but even with all that I sensed he was a man of worthiness, someone who was above the pettiness of life, an observer, slightly unsure of his place. It makes sense that he feels comfortable behind that table, in his own world, creating the soundtrack for the night. Behind my counter is where I hide and those like me find solace there too.

Our interactions were awkward and uncertain, but there was a moment of complete understanding, where words were unnecessary and I was myself and he was himself. That is the smallest shred of hope I have, that we could have that kind of intimacy that doesn't require words.

Also that he was wanting to become a crow for me, despite the scene, that makes me smile.

What surprised me most was the cd he sought to give me that night; that it contained a diverse and entertaining mix of well crafted pieces that wove themselves together like a story, different from what I'd just heard, or been too busy enjoying to fully savor, so I got to hear every sound of a totally different set from his past in my ears (which kept me company during the dearth of interactions I have on Mondays) and I was massively impressed by his work.

And, lastly, he is the only other person I've met who turns into an anime character when he smiles.

So all there is to do now is wait and see what happens, to follow the path he sets for me. It may not lead anywhere, but at least it's a worthwhile trip.

the disappointment

Funny how all the elements are the same, all the stationary objects are familiar, known, but then the variables are what throw me, the people change and all of a sudden I'm a wreck, unable to relax, pulled back half my life ago to high school inadequacies, certain that they were all talking about me every time there was a "her" spoken.

And to him, what must I be now? At first I was exciting and new and now I am something to be avoided, something to worry about, something to ignore. Ignored, left to wither in his shadow, hearing his laughter for someone else, I had to leave, I was itching to go, I couldn't get comfortable.

They all know what happened between us or what couldn't happen and I wonder if they think I'm languishing in that, pining for him, just because I am there. Never mind that it's my bar, it's my place, it's where I came plenty before he ever arrived. And yet, it's the kind of place where I am never seen for who I really am and that's the worst kind of misunderstanding. I can't defend myself enough, I can't talk myself out of the quicksand, I can't say the best, coolest, funniest thing all the time.

When it gets like this, where I'm frustrated with the lot of them, those variables, those people, I promise myself I will never go back in there, that it's not for me, that I can't take another night of their eyes crawling over me, evaluating me, checking me for cracks and pulling out the sledgehammer in preparation for my demise.

And him, rather than be the good man I'd thought he was, he allowed them their scrutiny, even hid from the front lines to avoid being pelted with the shards of my self-esteem shattering and spraying across them, and I was sad that even he could not muster up the affection for me that he claimed to have, to interact with me despite the imminent and likely goading he would suffer.

Before I was sad that he would leave eventually, now I long for the days when he will be gone for good.

place carded via Taylor...

downtown

Car nerding

One of bobby's toys.

well well well

Somehow, this plan to take over the world with writing has resulted in my completing a story in less than a month. A story that I didn't know I was ready to write, a story that I had no idea where it was going or what it was about, and lastly, a story that I have been wanting to write for about two years.

As I look back on the last month I'm amazed and glad. My writing partner has had a lot to do with it, but at the same time, I've really put a lot of effort into it, and to tell you the truth, I could put in more. I've got a twenty five page story that is now ready to be edited and clarified, but it's actually got a beginning, middle and end. I don't even think I got this kind of results during school.

In the fiction department there's a huge emphasis on new material, new places where something is taking your attention, but with my writing partner, I've been able to go in having a general idea of what direction I want to go in and then I get in the car and drive. I didn't worry about where I was going or what was happening, because somehow she's been able to impart a sense of freedom in me that I didn't have before.

I'm also pleased because I'm finally winding my way through the complex novel Wild Palms by William Faulkner which I've been "reading" for four months now. And by "reading" I mean looking at it on my nightstand and trying to find the mental capacity along with the urge to crack it open.

Here's to doing the work and getting results...

a well chosen one

My love affair with the avocado continues.