"Words are meaningless, and forgettable.." Depeche Mode
As I sit here and feel the cool touch of the AC, the sound of my Smirnoff Ice relaxing it's chill into the warmth of my oak desk, I reflect on this weekend. A stream of sweaty sheets and shy fumbling for post carnal clothes, my hand tracing small circles in the nape of her back, a quick and easy kiss goodbye at the ferry dock this afternoon. Small sighs of regret for magnificent words that flowed through my head as we joined, and were lost for want of a way to capture them, pretty sacrifices of lust and memory...
I wonder, wonder slightly if I am as detached as I seem, as I want to be. Always stirring up the pot, I am. If not that, smoking it.
Sat down, took the time to do a tarot reading concerning my trip down to Florida. A good fight ahead, I look forward to it. Now if I can convince my wallet that my tarot has given me the green light to go, we'll all be happy...
Happy should be a four letter word.
I talk to my mother today..she calls as I orgasm, have roommate put her on hold until I can collect myself enough to talk to her..her timing is perfect as always. A half hour later, as I hang up, sex is gone from my mind as I reel with her ramblings...I'm always left a bit frazzled and depressed after talking with my mother, her frenzied hold on reality is a constant reminder of the helpless solitude of madness that lurks behind my eyes, always tempting me into it's warm clutch of confusion..I regal in my ability to stay calm in her sea of chaos, in any sea of chaos. When we argue, I respond as vehemetly as she attacks, until her voice reaches the "demon" tone, where I automatically go dead calm. Icey eyes and a grim smile defuse her as she fades into a apologetic babble, and a hug.
I wish I had learned that years ago, when it mattered. When it counted.