i just washed my face with my new salt soap

i'm going to bed in a minute
sangre de toro

busy day

working
then going to dinner with my mom
but
I'm kinda stoked
because
I kinda have a fan club
I got grown men bringing their friends
on field trips
to see my beer selection
and
calling me to check on obscure stuff
and telling me that they tell all their friend
and
telling me that they have to stop in
every week
to
check what I got new

I kinda like having fans
isn't that weird

the golden tarot

i've been getting this card
from the golden tarot which is coming to be my favorite these days
it's weird how they cycle through
and what that says about you [meaning me, see]
it reminds me of high school art history

and the greek festival

going on the chapel tour to see the icons
but the priest was really cool
he explained about communion being made with real bread, baked by the congregants
i picture the women (i'm assuming mostly) and their range of possible
what am i trying to say here
motivations

the bread is cut into small cubes
or perhaps torn into small pieces, i find i'm not sure
put in a spoon with wine
to sop it up
join the flesh with the blood

those people
they know how to experience a transmogrification

isn't that unhygienic, someone asks

no one has ever gotten sick from experiencing the communion
[he probably didn't say the communion
he probably said the sacrament
but, truthfully, i don't remember the words

and
from art history class--  remembering the excitement of giotto
that point when they got again the concept of perspective

but this image
it's hard to explain, taps into klimt and the great wave off kanagawa


it;s my favorite card of the deck, possibly
is that too weird


i have these fragments--

the fantasy where we're on the half shell like botticelli
but, ya know, lying down
and the shell isn't empty
and i spend a bunch of time figuring out:

is it some oystery creature
or some finely wrought velvet cloth

gotta know that before i continue with the rolling around
feeling your weight on me
what's that like
how would you be

it don't often imagine that
that's dangerous ground

but i kinda wanna know
what are you like, with me

well, i'm not feeling you today

so either you're too busy
or i've been too busy
or
maybe i did something wrong

whichever

oh
wait
i do feel you now

hi

to tell the truth

that amusement park ride was really just a plot device to get us in the dark

i am, i have to admit, inappropriately handsy

i have to restrain myself

you've seen this

both the

impropriety

remember virginia

and that after the purple bra

and

the restraint

remember the awkward wrist bumping

truthfully, i can't find a balance, so i just wanted to get you in the dark

in a fantasy environment

where i'd describe how i wanted to touch you

i want to run my hand along your thigh

feel the muscle along the front of it

but

i want to feel your inner thigh too

squeeze your knee lightly and then run my hand up slowly

not all dainty fingers but like contact, ya know, i'm not trying to tickle you

but not too aggressive either

i have this ridiculous playing doctor fantasy

it doesn't really have visuals

it's just the concept, really

where we tell each other:

right here in the bend of my elbow

right here in the small of my back

grab me here

mapping erogenous zone

in a way i'm pretty sure people don't

or

we could spend a long weekend finding them all

i want to experience you

by inches

and, ya know, as a whole

i am not sure about quid pro quo

the idea of you staring at every bit on me is, to be honest, frightening

which seems like such a chick thing

but

there it is

i want to devour you with my eyes and hands and mouth

and i want you just to touch me

but really, touching like on some grand scale

we've got a lifetime deficit of touch to bring back into the green

well, i'm confused, but i think you are too

I don't think you had any idea what I was talking about
and since there's no way to tell you
without being way too explicit
I think the only thing to do
is let it go

I love you
you are amazing
and talented
and a much sweeter man than I would have given you credit for being when I first met you eleven years ago

I want to understand your motivations better
I want to understand you better
sometimes
I know that if I just knew everything that was going on
in your head
then things would make sense

maybe you feel that way too

you must be confused sometimes
about what the hell I'm talking about
I'm sorry
I try to make sense

i'm a little confused

i've been thinking that you are probably not real happy with me
maybe disapointed
maybe mad even

i didn't react right

but i've been feeling you
like you were happy with me

i don't understand

but just to clarify

not rejecting you

mal'akh

not sure i made any sense before
i was trying to say:
you are looking hot in a way that you haven't before
though you already were hot
and
you seem, good
confident
containing some quality, different
though you have seemed all of those things before
so
like you have some new mojo working
that's what i was trying to say

i'm intellectually glad that you love debbie heather
but
that's as far as i'm taking that statement


i'm not writing that story
it's benched

i should have known better

orchid

blame it on the diesel or blueberry or whatever
i've smoked and i wanna talk to you
i felt near and far today
i had a broad array of emotions

and
i'm afraid
i'm not really prepared to talk about them

what i am prepared to say:
you have this way you look, that's hot
but then
recently
you have this kinda new way
some new kinda mojo you're workin

what's up with that


i don't know why i titled this orchid
i just sot this very distinct feeling that that was the right thing

and jim jarmusch can direct

hey

i hope none of that seemed bad
or scary
or whatever
i am not trying to compare you to my father
i am trying to articulate
more of a psychological thing
that for sure exists
and
that i only partially see
but
also
i'm trying to do some other stuff
i love you
and
i am not quite asking you what you think of all this stuff
ok

jabber

i'm not sure how to bridge the pieces i want to connect in that story
so maybe if i talk about it
or just talk
maybe that'll help
but truthfully, i have so many things i want to talk about
not stories
just stuff that's been happening
or that i dreamed
that my brain is full
and i don't know
i can't focus


i wanted to kind of play with the multiple uses of tunnel
but not in an obvious way
and
i really wanted to have a tunnel of love ride in there
with you and i
i've never done that
but i've been on a tunnel boat ride at this old park in san antonio
i was a kid, and i'm sure i had a chaperone
but i figure i could extrapolate

but then
i kinda want to write about that park
and i just don't remember it clearly
there was a hall of mirrors
the whole thing was super dark and gothic-y

wow, apparently i'm not the only one who thought it was gothic-y
if this is the park
which i'm not 100% sure


but then that takes me even farther away from my actual topic
which has something to do with
father daughter relationships being
somehow unavoidably related to adult romantic relationships
and how what i had
with my father
somehow
connects
through time
to what i'm trying to have with you

and maybe what that is

have you seen this movie

my father told me he had an i.q. of like 145 or something
i have very specifically never had mine tested
i don't want to know
well, that's not quite the flavor of what i mean
i don't believe in standardized testing
and, really, what does all that mean anyway
but my father had stuff
that i grew up thinking was normal
that i've never found in anybody else

that ability to encapsulate a quality of experience into a phrase
that play of words
i have always done that
but it doesn't seem like too many people do

maybe i just don't hang around the right people
i do seem to have a knack for finding myself among the normals
possibly there is some break in me that causes this
some subliminal need for stability
somehow i think this has either helped or hurt us

but my father and my mother both
they, i was gonna say, weren't good parents, but maybe that's not fair
i can't really say what i would have done in their place
i just know what i think i woulda done
and the reason that i think i woulda done it is because
i was there watching it, seeing how their decisions affected me
which, of course, as a parent, you wouldn't have that advantage, perspective
unless your kid told you stuff like:
please don't scream at each other, it really upsets me
like, when my mom would come to pick me up for visits
they didn't even have to see each other
i could walk out the door when the bell rang
i could be home by 8:30pm
but no 
he had to see me out
and i'm not sure it was always him starting it
whatever was going on with them was the important thing

do i even want to be telling you stuff like that is that even important

it seems like it's important for you to know some of that
because you didn't come from that
you came from other stuff
and some of that you talk about, so i feel like i'm on firm ground here
but i've kind of told you this stuff before
so why do i need to do this now

is this just all about me

because i'm specifically trying to make this about us

or maybe, there's this tunnel that runs through time

tunnel of love

i remember, when i was maybe five, my father took debbie to some carnival.  might have been the rodeo, which is the big carnival round these parts.  might have been some small carnival.

anyway, he took debbie and he threw balls or rings or something and he won her a prize.  a small stuffed poodle.

the thing about my father, though, the way he was, he would be like:  watch this, it's all i ever do. He was the world reigning champion of ball throwing or ring tossing.  he would win the biggest brightest best prize.

which, if he did, well...

i just now realized why my father loved me so much.  i realized why he treated me like an ex-girlfriend more than a daughter out on the 10 one night after seeing you, but i just now realized why he loved me.  he would tell me he was the best and i believed it.  well, at first i guess i just didn't know any better, but then, even when i knew he was boasting, couldn't back it up, i was never like:  no you can't;  i was always like:  show me.

but if he was not victorious...

and in this case with the ball toss or the ring throw he was not exactly victorious but he did win something.  so it was funny.

And the lady wins, he said in perfect pitch carny.  pause for effect.  a small dog.



in progress...
but i think that's all for tonight.

falling asleep

i went to dinner with my mom
i came home
i sat down to write to you
i fell asleep
i just woke up two hours later

i'm not super coherent

i gotta go to bed

don't be unhappy
i don't mean to ignore you

i'm just
sleepy

my brain is so busy
i don't sleep enough

it's super lame

sorry

i love you

I'm writing something
but
it needs to percolate
just know
I love you bunches

sunday afternoon

the rainbow serpent snaked it's way across the walls and ceiling.

i wasn't that surprised.

when it entered the fireplace--  which was electric, and decorative, and, anyway, not a water hole--  i was somewhat more surprised;  but the real tension came with the wondering:  where would it pop up next.  i began to imagine it shooting up the chimney, arching through the sky, crashing back through the door, the roof.  would it want to do me harm?  it hadn't seemed dangerous on the walls, but, now that it was out of sight, it frightened me, a little.  was it come to tell me something, create something?  was it totally oblivious to me?

i'd never seen it before.

so, i'm watching the wall above the electric fire because i can picture the rainbow serpent doubling back, somehow, plunging out of the wall, headed right at me.  a large parrot flies by and distracts me.

when i look up the curving wall has become a waterfall.  the crashing water dissolves to mist as it hits the floor.

oh, i need to check my crock pot.

i go to the kitchen.  i stir my crock pot.  a small brown woman walks up to me.  she looks vaguely like that parrot with her beak-like nose and feather collar.

what is that you're making?

i'm not really sure yet, i start to say.  it's the national dish of my country, i tell her.  really it's not quite.  i am making a thick stew-like dish that i'm tempted to call a curry with kasha and fava beans.  the spices are garlic, turmeric, spanish smoked paprika, cumin seed, and fennel seed.  it has a vaguely porridge or gruel texture, which isn't quite right.  the fava beans are not breaking down as quickly as i expected.

suddenly, right there in the kitchen, i get a throb.  my interest has shifted.  now i want sex, now.

i walk back into the living room.  you are sprawled naked on a gratuitous stack of pillows on a flat rock near the base of the waterfall.  you are somewhat reclining against a stack of pillows, almost sitting up.  i guess i'm wearing what i'm wearing, minus the underwear i just pulled off, and by the time i get there i guess you are hard because i don't pay attention to any of that.  what i want, what i notice is mounting you.  feeling your cock against front inner wall of my snatch.  my head falls back.  don't move around a bunch, i say, we can do mystical mutual whatever in a minute, right now, right now i need to wickedly use your man parts for my dire need.

fine, you say, pulling my shirt over my head.

a flying fish jumps out of the water and attaches itself to my right nipple.  not to be outdone, you squeeze the left.

the fish thing is a little weird, you say.

just roll with it, i shoot back, slowing my pace and deliberately, rhythmically, squeezing you.

thanks fish, but you better move now or else you're likely to be crushed.

fish detaches, salutes with his wing fin, and jumps back into the water.

before you expect anything, i roll down onto your chest like a wave cresting the force of the oscillation washing into a kiss.  i've been concerned about the quality of kiss i can manage.  and i guess it might be our first, so it's important, but i shouldn't have worried.  it was gentle as foam in a tsunami.

i. love. you.   i say, as i feel the gate swing open.

i have to go grocery shopping, and to the pet store

I've been exhausted
not sure why
not sure what you'd like to hear
but
I'll write you something
when I get back from errands

I love you

i love you

i'm pretty tired, i'm going to bed

would you like to spoon

i was thinking about camping

i haven't been full on camping since i was much younger
i normally imagine us in a cabin or some such
but
last night
i was thinking about tent camping

i can build fire
[with a match, i'm not claiming i can do friction]
i can do campfire coffee
i've done bacon (which i no longer eat) and flapjacks
not sure how i'd be at something complicated
you don't get even heat, is the problem
but i feel confident
we'd be adequately fed, one way and another

i found
kilim rug underneath bedding to be a good idea
for a variety of reasons
and then we could do whatever kind of bedding we decide is best
i feel confident we could be reasonably comfortable

i haven't ever done the primitive camping
where you have to schlep your gear on your back for miles to the campsite
i'd be willing to
but maybe not as a first go, ya know
besides
i can't lie
i like plumbing, a lot

the main thing about camping, really, is the stars
well, and the fire
but
i was picturing us, really, i think it might have been joshua tree

the coolness of the night
the nearness of you
and
i could almost picture the lovemaking in the tent

but the part of camping that is really romantic
is that kind of zen difference in time and space
the endless moment
it doesn't matter what time it is
nothing
and everything
is happening, together

the brightness of the stars
the warmth and the crackle of the fire
the sound of the wind and the things that might not be the wind
the deep primal feeling

would we talk
would we just sit quietly together
would you hold my hand
would it be beautiful and natural
comfortable

don't get me wrong
i want your body and my body to conjoin

but
i want this other form of intimacy
which i don't really see as separate
maybe even more longingly
since the years of celibacy have ever so slightly dulled
the other throbbing ache

i love you

deeply