I write from the old couch before a new window. Heat makes the gauze ripple gently at the corner of my eye. Cold warm light filters between the skyscrapers to make my carpet glow. I want to curl up on the puddle of light like a smooth cat, luxurious and purring.
As the clouds gently drift up, up over my head to disappear behind the wall, the bits of blue between them wink at me. I love the blue sky. It reminds me of warmth and wide open spaces and happy summer times. It’s so quiet up here. It’ll get noisy again as neighbors come home and the ssshhh of their shoes slips under the gap in my door.
I’m warm but not quite comfortable. The table is just too high and I can only sit in a position for so long before I have to adjust or the joints at my knees and hips and ankles and back start to stiffen.
Haha, stiffen. I’m a middle school boy at heart. I think boners and butts are funny and I can’t not make a “that’s what she said” or “your mom” joke when the opportunity presents. For all that I take myself far too seriously, I can’t take myself seriously. Doubt prickles my boundaries, constantly seeking reassurance. Funny that people literally putting their money where their mouth is only works for so long before you start doubting Their judgement, haha! Does that little doubting T ever go away?
My water is green. I’ve been concerned about the way I smell lately. Every time you kiss me there I have to wonder if you’re only doing it because you think you’re supposed to. I kiss you after and sometimes it’s strong enough that I can’t imagine. So I’m drinking chlorophyll on the advice of Matisse of the immaculate figure. It’s incredible how much time we spend thinking about each other. My day revolves around how to best please you. Is it the bold, confident side of me that quivers you the most or the quiet, meditative me? Perhaps the nearly childish, giggler in me or the sultry, smoky seductress. Sometimes the woman at the door simply carries you along with her, the music or the moonlight leading the way and she dragging you along behind. Others, she watches and waits for your vibe to show and follows your lead.
Three hours ago, when you were in a meeting or clearing the nocturnal accumulation of digital converse from your device(s), I was planning for you. Mentally mapping the day so I could be everything for you, including on time. Or at least no more than five minutes behind. Does this have garlic in it? Better not eat it until tonight. Do I have time for the micro abrasions in my mouth to heal before lavishing your cock with oral attention or will mouthwash and gum have to suffice? Better make sure the laundry is dry so I have a clean, fresh towel for you.
This is why I like my days to end early(ish). My morning is yours, even if I won’t see you until late.
I’ve finally got my books mostly organized. My system makes sense. I can’t wait to see if anyone can guess it. It’s fairly broad; categories more than individual titles. Then I found a stack of books that I shoved in a closet last week. Sigh. No more room in the book and breakfast. I may have to buy a bookcase.
But I don’t want to! What I want to buy is a nice bar, with a dark wooden top on it that opens to reveal funky infusions like bacon and sage vodka or a proprietary orange liqueur. I would make room for that. And use of it. I love flavors and booze is a great vehicle. Plus the pieces just look nice. Ah, someday.
I broke a nail moving furniture the other day. My nails are pathetically fragile but I insist on painting them still. After watching all four or five or however many seasons of Lost Girl, with their perfect makeup and perfect hair and perfect nails, I figured I could nail at least two out of three consistently. Haha, nail. They grow back, of course, but it’s no less of a pain because it’s temporary.
Life is pretty good. The rest of my month is reasonably relaxed, full of lovely people and pleasant experiences. The move is pretty much done, though there are still gaps to fill here and there, and I’m looking forward to a contemplative winter. I just feel…. Good. Stimulated and satisfied and accomplished and loved and just, good. Funny how creativity, for me, strikes at my moments of deepest contentment.
Happy Winter Holidays, everyone.