I'dh ave to say, as things go, this was a good one. I wouldn't elaborate on it much, but I did sit by in view of actually directly behind..the one..well, it's difficult isn't it, to deliniate things like this, matters of the heart and all..when for the last week my own has been crunching me like it's slowly cracking because pony boy has developed his mate again and I'm just going to sit on the sidelines and go eh, good luck to him...aren't I?
I wrote a story about it once, how I fantasized muskulls was going to come into my make believe world and just be there for me, the little orphan girl in the warm h ouse, nahh...it didn't work, that story, but this one, this has the other aspects, the cookies just out of the oven while he's off shore catching something and calls in "when the cookies ready hun?" and I say, "first batch coming out now" and he says he'll be there directly...
is he?
he kidded me today about wanting him to take off all his clothes "I bet you'd like that" the sum of our conversations being point A and point B over the years since I've been back home here on the edge of the sea and watching it rain...I won't say how old I am but I'm getting there and I bet it doesn't really matter either but he had his grandson with him...little tan boy like him, He looks to be Navaho(j)..and I'm a bennigazzna or however you term it..we'd understand one another because I'm not even really from this planet, right? and his forebears the anasazi...well, they were the welcomers for people like myself, with the mysterious cornflower blue eyes that are mostly yellow..well..can I say with a full heart finally what happened today?
I know it's not going anywhere, it never has, not even the first sight of him way long ago, '86, '85...he was with a woman then, it was a crowded restaurant here at home, there was a roomful of people and he was at one end and I the other and looke dhis way and went hmm...looks like ol Charlie Parker returned from the grave (or Gerald)...and it wasn't and I went on with my monastic life raising my children alone but he was always on the periphery of it in one way or another, the most uncomfortable part of it being that he looks so much like my father and he slept with my folks' neighbor, gingin..who was my friend in those days and I got the blow by blow...how it went and how it didn't went because she's rather a flake, truth be told, she complains to the powers that be about planes buzzing her house and such (mmhmm, extraterrestrial sightings at GP daily I suppose) meanwhile, there he is in front of me today..right in front of me, plops down like he owns the place, mostly likely he's the one in charge of more than a few things and he's not in his usual business suit and Florsheims pounding the pavement at Microsoft or the BIA...ah, the BIA
I'm not a First person...well, if I am it is a bastard version of it and there's no talking about that because anyone who knows has passed on and the rest of them are too good to say so..but it would be Iriquois, I just know it, though I have an auntie on my mother's side who is from the Northeast and they said she was French because it wouldn't do to say she was anything else...that kind of thing...you can't own up to your heritage because it's been sold down the river to colonize the new worlds we will discover in the time to come (one hopes) but there it is
lightening bolts all around us..he's wearing a daffy duck yellow sleeveless tee shirt, I remember every word of our very short conversation it was very short and I want to give the whole experience to my father, who's been deceased since '06 but I can't do that, not this time, what I remember most solidly as I was warned off this guy every time I mentioned him to the 'one who keeps my animal in its nest'...'you don't want to do THAT' meaning that the neighbor's labrador retriever might be more sympathetic to my human emotional needs, i.e., he's physically abusive big time...so they say...and at this point I feel so wrinkled up and crunched and starched and hung out to dry and what..a great golden butterfly flew over the car as I crossed the river coming home..that's what I feel having sat with him for a short while...there's a dance tonight, wouldn't that be wonderful to get to go to it with im and we'd do like me and Charlie did in high school, dance ourh earts out...all evening long...but with hi9m it's have to be more than just dancing, we'd go to his place, I'd look around and wonder about how clean the sheets were well, am I going to get bedbugs here? maybve at my house with th e two dogs there'sd be more chance of something out of perspective...gosh I'm feeling tired and slelepy now and a little teary eyed as if there were nothing left in the world but finally getting to settle with someone one has had a crush on for what? how long? too long..one didn't even know it in the beginning but one saw that person in a crowqded room and went..who's that? well, I guess even then they told me to 'stay away from that guy' like he was the Big Bad Wolf or something...and I didn't ever know how Jim Chee managed to stay happy in the Hillerman books but there's his heada nd his hair on this guys skull and you can wallpaper the rest of it to be real, I should think...well that's how it goes...not resigned, not unhappy, maybe deleriously joyous about touching his back and remembering the rocking in the waves of the boat what a great sail...that was before and what is now...you just have to be chin ups on these things and feel very vulnerable and helpless, you can't just declare to the guy, hey baby, I have crush on you...what? you didn't dress up make yourself pretty for me? well I did, I'm always thinking those things, that's what women do isn't it? but I chewed on my chipped naill polish and regretted everything I was wearing like it was for chopping wood in, clothingh for chopping wood in, I have decent clothes but I never seem to be wearing t hem and he looked great, I could deal with my age and my place in life if there someone like him in it...but it's not the little girl having a crush on her daddy to me that makes me not pursue this, nope, it's the vulnerable, available woman who's just been told by the closet sugar daddy of seven years (or more)...that once again, the man in the relationship i9s going back to his 'wife'...as was the case in the previous set up...which was another earthquake, almost enough to engage the army but I discovered I had a Russell Crowe fetish going on, so I lived within that and didn't get terribly close with the Brosnan/Churchill..Sting...clone of what I had to be intimate with forthis time...this guy, the fisherman...well he was a part of it too, h ow it 'got to me' and now he's sitting in front of me while we watach the native dancers, the children, I saw the children dancing today..they were doing that and his grandson was with him...and that too...that's like probably what I determined from how he arrived...one of the twins was with him...daughter of a twin, grew up with our St. Thomas set on the edges of it birthdays and so forth, now has dark hair always saw the two girls as little Afghanis their eyes a lot like mine, wildfire at the heart...so she's with the Fisherman today..they come in together, I guess it's his latest cruise maybe that's what it is...probably, he's graying, I'm wrinkling the twin is maybe thirty maybe needs a dose maybe working on a kid with im, I dunno...hope I don't sound sad, he's coming in like he delivered the latest option to the FCC on a computer thing...him and her...and I'm putting my hand on his back when he teases me about me wanting to see him take his clothes off...I guess me and the fileted salmon I picked up later that afternoon have got a few more things in common than the fact one of us lives in a liquid environment and the other is planted on the moon for sure in terms of valid equal relationships with the opposite sex...mines the YIN...his is the YANG...what we have between us is the WATTTT??? wait/what/wet/worry/wonder/willing/wooden/wooed...wishing well...I'm well...I'm probably a little hormonal...who wouldn't be? I'll be sixty three in a few days and I look like I'm seventeen, that's what 3 mile island will do for you if you were downwind...but I never seen what I really look like and how DUMB isthat? that that matters...when really, it's all about the desire to put a batch of cookies in the oven and call him out at sea and say if you want them hot get in here by the half hour they'll be delicious...and hecomes...that's one of my first stories from here...and she met him on the beach in that one, he was there and she was coming up from the other end and they met one another where the agates are...and he fished and she stayed at home and there were kids from other relationships and it was all very good and she took in some more kids and he married her and well...it wasn't your potboiler magazine novelette romance but it seemed like he became that character to me...that was him for reals...and I don't know what I'm on about other than I kind of feel like that poached salmon, the one the fish cop gave us elders because he's able to pass out the goods that are not legal to the catcher...there it is, the catcher in the rye...that's this whole thing the whole angle on it...what Salinger was trying to say...you feel like the filet o'fish because for years you've kept this little secret part for yourself and there it comes again like right up on the other side of the window you're looking at it and you know you need to wash your hair and make your bed first...and he'd bash your teeth in at some point when you looked at him crosseyed? so they say...
at t his point you'd feel as though it wouldn't matter if he did, you don't even want to hope that you'd matter next to the twin...
so in the other blog I'll have to write a poem because I have 19 minutes left and there's more to say...a conclusion maybe...
I wrote a story about it once, how I fantasized muskulls was going to come into my make believe world and just be there for me, the little orphan girl in the warm h ouse, nahh...it didn't work, that story, but this one, this has the other aspects, the cookies just out of the oven while he's off shore catching something and calls in "when the cookies ready hun?" and I say, "first batch coming out now" and he says he'll be there directly...
is he?
he kidded me today about wanting him to take off all his clothes "I bet you'd like that" the sum of our conversations being point A and point B over the years since I've been back home here on the edge of the sea and watching it rain...I won't say how old I am but I'm getting there and I bet it doesn't really matter either but he had his grandson with him...little tan boy like him, He looks to be Navaho(j)..and I'm a bennigazzna or however you term it..we'd understand one another because I'm not even really from this planet, right? and his forebears the anasazi...well, they were the welcomers for people like myself, with the mysterious cornflower blue eyes that are mostly yellow..well..can I say with a full heart finally what happened today?
I know it's not going anywhere, it never has, not even the first sight of him way long ago, '86, '85...he was with a woman then, it was a crowded restaurant here at home, there was a roomful of people and he was at one end and I the other and looke dhis way and went hmm...looks like ol Charlie Parker returned from the grave (or Gerald)...and it wasn't and I went on with my monastic life raising my children alone but he was always on the periphery of it in one way or another, the most uncomfortable part of it being that he looks so much like my father and he slept with my folks' neighbor, gingin..who was my friend in those days and I got the blow by blow...how it went and how it didn't went because she's rather a flake, truth be told, she complains to the powers that be about planes buzzing her house and such (mmhmm, extraterrestrial sightings at GP daily I suppose) meanwhile, there he is in front of me today..right in front of me, plops down like he owns the place, mostly likely he's the one in charge of more than a few things and he's not in his usual business suit and Florsheims pounding the pavement at Microsoft or the BIA...ah, the BIA
I'm not a First person...well, if I am it is a bastard version of it and there's no talking about that because anyone who knows has passed on and the rest of them are too good to say so..but it would be Iriquois, I just know it, though I have an auntie on my mother's side who is from the Northeast and they said she was French because it wouldn't do to say she was anything else...that kind of thing...you can't own up to your heritage because it's been sold down the river to colonize the new worlds we will discover in the time to come (one hopes) but there it is
lightening bolts all around us..he's wearing a daffy duck yellow sleeveless tee shirt, I remember every word of our very short conversation it was very short and I want to give the whole experience to my father, who's been deceased since '06 but I can't do that, not this time, what I remember most solidly as I was warned off this guy every time I mentioned him to the 'one who keeps my animal in its nest'...'you don't want to do THAT' meaning that the neighbor's labrador retriever might be more sympathetic to my human emotional needs, i.e., he's physically abusive big time...so they say...and at this point I feel so wrinkled up and crunched and starched and hung out to dry and what..a great golden butterfly flew over the car as I crossed the river coming home..that's what I feel having sat with him for a short while...there's a dance tonight, wouldn't that be wonderful to get to go to it with im and we'd do like me and Charlie did in high school, dance ourh earts out...all evening long...but with hi9m it's have to be more than just dancing, we'd go to his place, I'd look around and wonder about how clean the sheets were well, am I going to get bedbugs here? maybve at my house with th e two dogs there'sd be more chance of something out of perspective...gosh I'm feeling tired and slelepy now and a little teary eyed as if there were nothing left in the world but finally getting to settle with someone one has had a crush on for what? how long? too long..one didn't even know it in the beginning but one saw that person in a crowqded room and went..who's that? well, I guess even then they told me to 'stay away from that guy' like he was the Big Bad Wolf or something...and I didn't ever know how Jim Chee managed to stay happy in the Hillerman books but there's his heada nd his hair on this guys skull and you can wallpaper the rest of it to be real, I should think...well that's how it goes...not resigned, not unhappy, maybe deleriously joyous about touching his back and remembering the rocking in the waves of the boat what a great sail...that was before and what is now...you just have to be chin ups on these things and feel very vulnerable and helpless, you can't just declare to the guy, hey baby, I have crush on you...what? you didn't dress up make yourself pretty for me? well I did, I'm always thinking those things, that's what women do isn't it? but I chewed on my chipped naill polish and regretted everything I was wearing like it was for chopping wood in, clothingh for chopping wood in, I have decent clothes but I never seem to be wearing t hem and he looked great, I could deal with my age and my place in life if there someone like him in it...but it's not the little girl having a crush on her daddy to me that makes me not pursue this, nope, it's the vulnerable, available woman who's just been told by the closet sugar daddy of seven years (or more)...that once again, the man in the relationship i9s going back to his 'wife'...as was the case in the previous set up...which was another earthquake, almost enough to engage the army but I discovered I had a Russell Crowe fetish going on, so I lived within that and didn't get terribly close with the Brosnan/Churchill..Sting...clone of what I had to be intimate with forthis time...this guy, the fisherman...well he was a part of it too, h ow it 'got to me' and now he's sitting in front of me while we watach the native dancers, the children, I saw the children dancing today..they were doing that and his grandson was with him...and that too...that's like probably what I determined from how he arrived...one of the twins was with him...daughter of a twin, grew up with our St. Thomas set on the edges of it birthdays and so forth, now has dark hair always saw the two girls as little Afghanis their eyes a lot like mine, wildfire at the heart...so she's with the Fisherman today..they come in together, I guess it's his latest cruise maybe that's what it is...probably, he's graying, I'm wrinkling the twin is maybe thirty maybe needs a dose maybe working on a kid with im, I dunno...hope I don't sound sad, he's coming in like he delivered the latest option to the FCC on a computer thing...him and her...and I'm putting my hand on his back when he teases me about me wanting to see him take his clothes off...I guess me and the fileted salmon I picked up later that afternoon have got a few more things in common than the fact one of us lives in a liquid environment and the other is planted on the moon for sure in terms of valid equal relationships with the opposite sex...mines the YIN...his is the YANG...what we have between us is the WATTTT??? wait/what/wet/worry/wonder/willing/wooden/wooed...wishing well...I'm well...I'm probably a little hormonal...who wouldn't be? I'll be sixty three in a few days and I look like I'm seventeen, that's what 3 mile island will do for you if you were downwind...but I never seen what I really look like and how DUMB isthat? that that matters...when really, it's all about the desire to put a batch of cookies in the oven and call him out at sea and say if you want them hot get in here by the half hour they'll be delicious...and hecomes...that's one of my first stories from here...and she met him on the beach in that one, he was there and she was coming up from the other end and they met one another where the agates are...and he fished and she stayed at home and there were kids from other relationships and it was all very good and she took in some more kids and he married her and well...it wasn't your potboiler magazine novelette romance but it seemed like he became that character to me...that was him for reals...and I don't know what I'm on about other than I kind of feel like that poached salmon, the one the fish cop gave us elders because he's able to pass out the goods that are not legal to the catcher...there it is, the catcher in the rye...that's this whole thing the whole angle on it...what Salinger was trying to say...you feel like the filet o'fish because for years you've kept this little secret part for yourself and there it comes again like right up on the other side of the window you're looking at it and you know you need to wash your hair and make your bed first...and he'd bash your teeth in at some point when you looked at him crosseyed? so they say...
at t his point you'd feel as though it wouldn't matter if he did, you don't even want to hope that you'd matter next to the twin...
so in the other blog I'll have to write a poem because I have 19 minutes left and there's more to say...a conclusion maybe...
