Category: Uncategorized

i dated a man who is married.  i didn’t know.

i still feel really yucky about it. really. i even broke it off before i knew, because it was too much daytime (read: bed) meeting and i just wanted to go out to see a movie or have a drink on a Friday.  (…and i was deciding that i wanted more than just sex. and he was lovely, so sweet, and i wanted to hold hands… )

but i broke it off, because he couldn’t do any of those things, which i didn’t understand, and honestly, it never even occurred to me that he was MARRIED. (now, i am different.) he had said he was separated, that they lived in separate places, etc. and that the reason they weren’t officially divorced was because of logistics… who was going to get the house, etc.   So away it went.

and then we kept in touch.

because i keep in touch with almost everyone, because i keep liking them. with him, its very random, months pass…its just messages on the phone, nothing more.

and one time i asked him, in seriousness, why it hadn’t gone any further, and he gave me the truth.

and i feel terrible. even though there is literally nothing going on.

and i want to yell about it. how these are our husbands! and then, i realize that they aren’t mine. my ex would’ve never gone this route, because of the utter exposure of it, he would’ve been much too private for it, i think .  i am not casting aspersions on his character, just what iffing.

but they are YOUR husbands! YOUR FRIEND’S HUSBANDS! YOUR SISTER’S HUSBAND! Holy shit, the MAIL LADY’s HUSBAND!

and i’m sorry, but it is THEM, not the ladies that like them… it is THE MEN who are taking these actions.

there are so many of them. so damn many.  it causes a welling up of sadness in me. like, a real one.

deep pools of sad.

 

(and thats my poetry for the day.  nyuck nyuck. but really. dear god, sadness. )

My head is a living forest full of songbirds. – jena schwartz

a sort of poem in response…streaming:

 

song sounds like an Asian name, and i don’t know enough to know which language.

but song.  Song.

I think of artwork rendered in one-dimension line drawings, always with a bird, a bird, a bird.

not living, like an abstract intellectualism of flight. a spot on the landscape that happens to move when not caught on paper. pinned.

and yet, how i love abstract intellectualism. abstractly.

while my heart is filled with the noise and chaos and cacophony of the dawn in my pre-winter days. . .

the fully fleshed, but ah, a spot on the landscape… a twitch in the bramble.

 

—sigh, you guys. i still choose joy. i still choose the twitch in the bramble. but i fell off the earth this week, clutching at tree branches as i spun out.  the whole monkey mind thing really took me out, and yesterday i took a nap. its a sign of my inner chaos, i think, bigger than i was aware of.  and i’m trying to assess how much of it is because i’ve been handling all the things so calmly, the car, the pipes, the cigarettes, the pinkeye, the no heat, the grief, the birthdays, all of it… the holidays have become such a strain on my impressionable psyche, I might just spin until january, when it all drifts back down to the ground again.

so thats where i am.  i’ve stopped texting ‘that guy’ and i’m not yet clear enough in my head to not be making up stories, and i’m getting pissed off at myself. i cannot currently tell the difference between intuition and compulsion, and thats a freaking biggie.  so, hands off everything til that one settles out.

but i love you, i do.  that much i know. if you know me, you know i do.  if i don’t know you, let me. I’ll love you too. I will.

(but i won’t smell that good while doing it, thats all. ) 

so, double pink eye . on me, tha mother.

this sucks it.

but i got  some new curtains and i love them.

they are pink velvet .  and they have tassels. because. target.

my mom is not coming over to take the littlest to dance bc of the contagiousness. so we are going to be skipping it. which will make this littlest SOOOOO  happy and will make me only have one trip out for a child, which makes me SOOOO happy.

the days of darkness have arrived.

any more metaphors out there for me?

my vision is literally clouded.

the ceiling has fallen.

the beaten down yeast has risen again, and been cooked.

what we most fear (being duped) happens to us again and again

the pipes have burst.

the windows to the soul are full of gunk. crud.

pink the color of dawn. pink the color of contagion.

dudes.