n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

4 to 1.5 to .42 to .17 to .04 and on down...

Yeah I guessEach interaction lasts just a trace less.

I thought I was feeling okay about things, being that I was panicking and it wasn't just her freaking out (when she asked me if I wanted children [in general] on our second date, and whether I was the type to take a married lastname on the third, I, um, had nightmares for two days and wondered what the fuck was going on, dreamt about stuffed animals and fake flowers one day beyond the nightmares)... but now I'm a bit sad that either I was hanging out with a polite person who didn't want to hurt my feelings, or someone who turned out to be a flitting movement, not right, and that's all. Or maybe something else that I'm not up for, or not capable of understanding the right moves or interpretation or space, infinito & etc, for (confusion that wishes it were something else, finds soil with gaze).

Okay, get me: yes, I thought Ms. Woosh was beautiful from the moment I saw her, but I really fell into a crush when she came around with the customers. She has this kind energy sweet sassy forwardness to her that musics around her, and who could but lean into that, especially me who loves nothing more than an attentive force forward? So, yes, I thought about her and saw her and looked away and then looked at her eyes for as long as I dared for about a month, and being the ignorant wimp I am, I would have been content after a fashion with just that, although after certain interactions I could help but blush and ask out the first person I've asked out face-to-face ever.

But as it was revealed: she brought her friends by to buy flowers just so they could pass through my register to assess me - long before I asked her out. She worked on a group-meeting so she could come talk to me. She said she made big-eyes at me whenever she could. She made me bouquets of flowers every day for week and snuck them in at spare moments to talk to me. She googled me and admitted it. She made a flowerpot design for me, and it sold in a day. She invited me over to her friends' house on our first date and put her arms around my waist around them another time. She picked me up on a surprise trip after work and took me downtown. She suggested that instead of visiting a gallery or beach nearby on the day I weaseled off work, that we take a daytrip out of town and enjoy ourselves. And it felt right, whirlwindy, but connected,

So, by jove, it wasn't just me, was it?

Every time, it seems like so much hiss and sizzle, and then someone who would put a brick through my window for a buck. I'm exaggerating and being dramatic, but i didn't expect it to feel sucky. i guess. or i didn't want it to mimic the last night before i headed home. night's before, i've added them to the rules.

[Thou shalt not allow goodbyes to turn the plane-ride home into a philosophical Buddhist hiptrip involving an incessant watching of the water along the wings as it drains down and out like flecks heading opposite and never downward.]

Since... since I really like, yeah I do, this girl, I tried really hard not to fuck it up. I "played it cool" to a degree although I answered text messages like I was waiting, which maybe I was. I was sweet, because dammit, I am sweet. I gave space - forgodsake it was only so short, so I didn't make any sexy moves for particular reasons. I took risks nonetheless, like bringing a flower when a flower wasn't brought to me, and making cookies (!), and lending books...

I am completely inept. That's all. I just adore someone once or twice a year and want every little gleaning from the ribs of the experience, and somehow that is enough to make me, if not an scorned chesnut, at least a walkaway point, for each of them. And seriously - it's not very often this happens to me, this zing, I think.

So, yeah, things have been cold for a week now. Seriously. And I can't figure it out. It's up-down but mostly down - words that sound flat as our perception of the sky - references that sound like grocery visits, about when I return from fishing. And this last week: the bouquets stopped, although I got splashed with water and we went for lunch at break. Yet, it's all in the vibe, right? Distant, for sure, and she didn't ask me for my address in AK when I asked if I could send a postcard.

I'd get the yankaway somewhat if the physical attraction weren't there, but what about when it is? Am I just a temporary trik, or a longterm abstraction?

I don't know whether investing means stalking, or trying, anymore. And the first is abhorrant and unworthy of what I think of myself (pretty nice, full of the need to be loved back, too, and not Take Care of others, life, space, potential... but still be out there all the time as best I can), whereas the second looks so much like the first, they could be twins, but I wish I could believe they're not.

Ug, I swear I won't talk about this shit anymore because there's lots more to talk about that should really, but doesn't, make me feel complete. Blah.

Kenyon Etch-Sketch

Heading back to the PacNorthwest tomorrow. Actually I think it will fucking rock ass to be home again. So there. And there you go.


look me up when you're in town if you'll be here for a few days!

I'll try to cheer you up... or at least we can drink beer... that always helps me... to send drunken emails and text messages.
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