senses

I have a theory about my senses. Stretching them. Flexing them. Using them to discern tiny sensations.
Like an exercises at bedtime I practise.
I hold this cup in my palm, it's warm curve nestles against me, even slight movements against it sound the high rustling tinkle of skin against glaze. I run my toes over the blanket, exploring the curves and folds, enjoying the slight prickle of wool, the friction arresting the slide of the soft pads of my feet, impeding their journey across the mattress. The cover of my book is cool and hard under my fingertips. Running my fingers over the surface I realise that that whilst it is so smooth it is also matte, and like microscopic velvet it gives me shivers.

I concentrate on gathering sensations and think of you. I know that when I have my moment with you, that is to say, when we next steal a moment together, though our time will be short (it could never be long enough) I will be practised in appreciating sensations. Each tiny brush of skin on skin, each breath that stirs the tiny hairs on my body, every inhalation will fill my consciousness, every touch will resonate my soul...

poorly

Been hiding out here at my mum's place feeling poorly.
Initially it was just sniffing, then throbbing brain, fever,
coughing, aching. The ludicrous amount of snot involved
is scary... There are massive piles of tissues.

(pause here to read my man's attempt to inflame my passions
with the judicious use of text....oh poor thing...
inviting love cavity? darling please, no...)

I've been eating in almost equal measures, ginger, lemon, vitamin c,
paracetamol, chili, codeine, garlic and porridge. I'm not entirely
certain that it's a plan I should patent, but I've stopped getting worse
and may been be getting better.

It's beginning to be quite isolating out here, makes me a bit sad how
few people contact me in the course of the week.

In the struggle to be a better mammal

...and to put my finger finger in a firmly up your A$$ position toward corporate conglomerate melonomas like Nestle and Masterfoods

I declare this an ad-free blog

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yes

I'm hanging on the sofa,
with the cats,
watching Dogma on TV,
eating ginger and dark chocolate ice cream.

things may yet be ok......

morning

Last night I didn't sleep til three something.
I woke at seven something.
My asthma's been really bad.
I'm just so tired I can't think. Can hardly function.
Now I've got builders in the basement and kitchen installing a staircase.
It's not quiet. or tidy come to that.

I'm trying to remember when I said that I had never been faithful.
All the time I suppose. Probably in a nonchalant way too.

I don't think it's true to say that I am actually incapable of monogamy.
I just have slip-ups with the same regularity as most people trip on a loose paving stone and make a fool of themselves pretending that they didn't.
Currently it seems to be limited to quarterly occurrences, inversely linked to my happiness.
I've known better than to let them inside me for some time, so it's normally a very unsatisfying fumble. A hungover morning (regardless in fact of the involvement, if any, of alcohol) and a couple weeks of self hatred, usually cut with self harm and/or starvation.

But there again, I've never tried to have a relationship with anyone who knew this stuff about me. I've never been able to talk to any of them about what goes on or ask them for help when I need it.
Would that make a difference?
Who knows.
It looks like we'll never find out.

i have no self confidence.
none.
i can loose 10 kilos
and still think i'm fat.
(i'm pretty much permanently
deluded on that point)
i can have a degree and still feel stupid.
I get stuck.
depressed.
immobile.

i have fantasy 'relationships' with people
i want them to be something that they can't be.
to give me something that they don't have.
i can be just a cloud of negativity.
i can nod and listen and offer tea,
but i need that kind of support myself
and end up resenting those i offer it to.

i regret the past.
i fear the future.
i imagine the worst
and am not surprised when it happens
everyday i cope
every day i wish i could do better
then flop it

i want to take a large step
and be in the light
i want the golden glow to embrace me
i want to be safe
and warm
i want to see the good in everything
and help those who can't find it

when i was so small,
before life (&my father) had crushed me
i knew i was good
i knew i could do good
i would dance with everyone at the grown up party
and sleep beside the drum kit

i loved sun dresses
mud
bugs
flowers
a bowl of water
and singing hummily


bring me back to the light

please

ouch

Ok so we can't be together.
Why?
five children and a pleasant woman.
200 miles.
few years.
a whole world.
ok. so we can't be together.

"sooner or later I'll have to do something 'bout the starvation"

Ok. I get it. I don't like it though
How could I be expected to like the thought of you giving it to someone else?
Do you enjoy thinking of me underneath another man?
Well then.

"I can't do it with you so......"

This may be a fact, but it does not make the first statement any easier to bear.

"If we were together , I would have expected you to be monogamous... probably unlikely eh?"

WTF? Are we try to damage the girl this morning?
Would it just be simpler to say; "You are a slut, I don't trust you"?
It would've been quicker to write for sure.
If that's what it's about and you're trying to hurt me and drive me away your choice of words could have been limited.
We could have condensed the whole painful incident into one easy text.
"I'm horny and you can't fix it. On to the next one then...."