Future's So Bright

Haven't been blogging much. For good reasons, too.

REASON 1: I've been trying to stay on schedule with my writing, and finishing up that monstrous magnum opus of mine: Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology. The thing began as a single volume, but over the two years I have been working on it, I realized there was much more to it than that. Thus, there are now 6 volumes, which i hope will all be available by the end of the year. I'm a little behind on that, for
REASON 2: i finally met my perfect partner and did that thing i swore I'd never do--the thing I advised everyone else against: moving in right away. But at my age, i figure I know a good thing when i see it, and I didn't want to let it go. I tested her mercilessly. Put her through the paces...and she passed every test. We met March 30th, and have been inseparable ever since. We are now looking at Commitment Ceremony rings.

Add to that the stress of moving, some situational things beyond our control, which also engendered a huge amount of stress, and I've been preoccupied. But our relationship remains strong, and I have no complaints in that department. Also been taking notes on several other books, both fiction and nonfiction, started a publishing house, and have been renovating our house, which was in pretty bad shape. But I feel purposeful. And I'm in love. And the future's so bright, i gotta wear shades.

Future's So Bright

Interlude

She appeared in the doorway. "You asleep?"

"Nope." Still standing there. "What do you need? A drink of water? A blanket? Cuddles?"

"Yes."

Laughing. "Yes, what?"

"Cuddles."

I peeled back the covers on the "passenger side" of the bed.

She came over and got in.

"Okay," I said, my arm cocked back. "Spoons, or cheek on chest?" She put her cheek on my chest, and I put my arm around her shoulders. In the ensuing silence, I felt her gears turning. "What's on your mind?"

"How do you know there's something on my mind?"

"There's always something on your mind."

She giggled. "You're right. . .I was thinking about something you said earlier. . .you said you think I'm beautiful. . .what did you mean?"

"Um. . .well. . .aesthetically pleasing, easy on the eyes, evolved on the inside. . .engaging, intelligent. . .a sexy heart-shaped mouth. . .all that is beautiful. . ."

"You think i have a heart-shaped mouth?"

I leaned back to look at it. "Yep. There it is. Heart-shaped." Settling back down on my chest, she turned contemplative again. I felt her thinking. I always feel her thinking. "What else?" I prodded, brushing my fingers through the tendrils of hair at her forehead.

"I like you."

"I like you, too."

"How much?"

I held up my fingers to about an inch, and she smacked me on the arm, as we both laughed.

"Seriously. Yes. I do like you. More than I should, probably."

"Why do you say that? "

"I just know you are very dangerous to me."

"I've never been accused of being dangerous."

"Well you are."

"How?"

Now it was my turn to squirm. I cleared my throat and tried to find the right words. "I had a very precise and thorough list of what I wanted to manifest in my life. . .romantically."

"And?"

"And you're it."

"Really?"

"Unless you have me fooled."

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"I want you to kiss me like I'm the one you manifested. . ."

"Why?"

"So I can see if it's what I manifested."

"Oh, you've been manifesting, too, have you?"

"Yes I have."

I sighed. "Now I have performance anxiety."

Interlude

Choice Starvation (poem)

A glimpse of perfection from stony blindness.
Trembling through the tenuous tension
of good and evil.
Respect me, I am a person,
my opinion matters.

External motivations are inherently worthless
Down the hatch.
But it's only cappuccino
Forcing the gates of symbolism,
Reflecting tender fears.

I hear you calling my name
grey moon above,
and midnight descends with
this poet’s tears.

Choice Starvation (poem)

Already (poem)

I already love her mind.
I already love her words.
I already love the parts of herself she reveals to me in herds
of raw, broken, struggling, yet
completely filled vessels of hope and
understanding. I'm not demanding
totally sodden with angst,
yet pure, unfettered, passionate, real.
A bargain on hearts, today, mine's a steal.

I don't know where this thing will go
knowing, yet knowing, I cannot know
wishing and hoping, that floating hope
I'm holding the wrong end of the rope
relating the angst of the things we do
feeling connection, connection anew
reaching for content, my spirit breaks through
I could fall for someone a lot like you.

Already (poem)

Close to Never (poem)

The light in your eyes
moves, dims, and behind it, I see doubt
I try to pull the words from you
And all you say is
"I don't want to lose you."

If you only knew how close you were
To never losing me
I would never see that doubt in your eyes again.

Close to Never (poem)

Sex & Love

We say, "Making love" and "having sex."

But it seems to me that love is something you can't "make" because it can't be manufactured. It exists on its own and sometimes without our permission.

Conversely, sex isn't something that just exists as a power of its own--we must pursue it. We make it happen.

Thus, we should say, "Have Love," and "Make sex."

"I'm sorry, we can't meet you at the restaurant, we're Having Love."
"Oh, well, you should just do what i do, and Make Sex."

Sex & Love

Precious

It feels like tomorrow is a million miles away. I don't think I can make it until dawn. This yearning swallows me, and niggles me out of a stolen slumber. When I close my eyes, I see your face, your smile. I feel your softness next to me and right now is never soon enough to be in your arms. I fall into fitful, exhausted sleep and I dream of you. The scent of your perfume, your hair, teases my senses. I can feel you under me, on me, beside me, and I can hardly stand the images that follow without mercy... the sensation of your small, strong, velvety hands on my skin; the beckoning texture of your skin, the way that cord in your neck feels between my teeth, your breathing, your moans... the taste of you...white chocolate. I wander about the yard at 3 a.m., drawing the humid night air into my lungs and wishing it was laced with your scent. Wishing you would appear from the treeline and call to me in urgent whispers. I would run to you, escape through the darkness and lay you down upon the cool moss beneath a maple tree and love you until our bodies were limp with spent passion, weak with the intensity of our union.

Yesterday, I picked up the shirt you slept in and I held it to my face, breathing it in, hungry for you. I don't want to wash it. I don't want to forget. I don't want to stop or think or rationalize. I want only to exist with you in a vacuum, oblivious to the rest of the world, allowing the sweet, overwhelming tenderness to envelop us like all the clocks had stopped and time didn't matter anymore. I hear your voice and my heart leaps like an animal in my chest, aching; a stinging, joyous, bittersweet pain that I curse and embrace in the same breath like some beloved demon. And I am captive, unable to explain the quick power that has permeated my heart and my brain and my skin. I long to hold you...to whisper sweet somethings in your ear and feel your answering moan, the tightening of your arms around me, the feel of your fingers over my face and lips.

You, woman, are a drug that I cannot stop taking....a forbidden fruit which I would pluck again and again and pull into my mouth, with no regard for the rules of Eden, no thought for the punishment I might face when the mist rises. You, woman, have my heart in your hands...and I want you to squeeze it, press it to your chest as I do with yours, and let the tears come. And I will kiss them dry and pull you close enough so that our bodies merge, and we never have to feel alone again..

Precious