Thursday Mar 08, 2007

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As per usual, the only question questions ever really asked is... what now? What next? And so?

And we shuffle, and shuffle and meditate and pray, and we pull, and the single card, pulled again and again and again is the same.



The card represents the critical factor for the issue at hand. The High Priestess, when reversed, hearkens a time for action, for involvements with others. Commitments in romance.

Who? Ah, if I knew, I'd tell ya.

But it's a welcome reading, and comforting, and interesting that she comes, like so, again and again and again. Because (if I can say so without falling into the whiny female trap, which I suppose I am excessively cautious of.) this gals needs have not been met. Hey whoa, cowboy. That's not what I mean.

In the 2 1/2 years I've been in Montreal, I've put more notches in my bedpost than in the previous seven years combined. That ain't it. It's nice that along the way, someone did pick up my heart (ew! Heart! I call for a new word for the thing. Heart brings to mind the 80's and so much awful Valentine's paraphernalia.) from out of the wreckage, give it a crank, and showed that it does in fact, still tick. Sad that he couldn't stick around. Yet I'm grateful. No, no. I don't need to get laid, that's not quite what I crave.

This, is more like it.

SPOILERS! (Click to view)


And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day and type your letters and carry your boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you don't listen to and watch great films and watch terrible films and complain about the radio and take pictures of you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before and take you to the eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your

and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and dance till I'm black and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when I smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and take them away again and ask you to marry me and you say no again but keep on asking because though you think I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty without you and want want you want and think I'm losing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the worst of me and try to give you the best of me because you don't deserve any less and answer your questions when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really dont' want to and try to be honest because I know you prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life and forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's a beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse and make love with you at three in the morning and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you.

Oh, Sarah Kane. Rest, dear girl.



I commented today to my dearest girl_fawkes that the masochist in me (well, that part I didn't comment, but it must be that part of me) kind of misses being deeply heartbroken. And then the other part laughs and dances, and smiles a lot.

I am alone. We are all alone inside our minds. We were all born this way, and we will all die this way. But there is safety in numbers, and that external safety, of warm bodies and pithy eye-contact, that chance to take, and be taken for granted, that safety is what's missed.

But it's okay.
It's in the cards.

VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
halfjack:
well than i guess i'm a lucky boy. aaaaaah, springtime in montreal. probably not til late spring/early summer where it to happen.

ps ever hear from your little cousin?
halfjack:
.......................... i miss montreal

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