littlegirllover

With apologies to those who had the chutzpah to actually get a journal, in part, to read me, here, I'm sorry, but I am no longer updating, here, at all.

That sentence looks redundant, twice, but, oh well.

I have been updating regularly, in almost all public entries, at:

http://littlegirllover.insanejournal.com/

Ugh. I hate that last night..fucking..somehow..hurt.

I'm reading The Tao of Pooh at the moment, or, I mean, last night I was, and that should've helped me deal. Maybe that's the lesson. We did not really have a set plan to talk, anyways (all I'd said was that I was gonna wait for her), so I don't suppose I could consider myself bumped.

And I am positive it only just feels that way, anyway.

I must prepare myself, as I am, like, all but positive (somehow, 'cause of the whole "universe must teach its lessons" thing) I will be bumped by the same person so far as our semi-plan to meet this weekend.

Mkay.

Lol, I am trying to figure out if I should mention any of this to her.

It's great it's not jealousy, anyway, so that is way cool. I'm thinking that might be one of the lessons. If she and him were not just friends, though, and intimate, I cannot imagine jealousy would not be a part. Totally cannot. I can only be so noble.

Reasons to mention it:
1. Because it is?
2. Because it would be easier to mention it, than to just shut the fuck up about it?
3. Because if I don't mention it, and act as if it did not matter at all, it would be a form of lying, or playing charades, or be, in my head only, an elephant in the room?
4. Because the "next time" it will be even harder to deal?

Reasons not to mention it:
1. Circumstances were out of her control (though in my head, I say, "not really."), and we definitely did not have a set plan to talk, or anything more, anyway?
2. Because I will look like an idiot.
3. Because it comes with the territory, and I ought take whatever territory I can.
4. Because I ought to train myself to deal, and be good, and noble, and not any kind of jailer.

K. I'll just do my best. I'm glad she doesn't have internet service at the moment. I guess the best I can do is not count on anything, but go ahead and count a little more on that which is actually planned.

After all, less than two weeks ago, I was completely at the mercy of existing circumstances. But, then again, that was precisely what kept me protecting myself by not falling too hard for what I could not change, or for whom it seemed I could not have.

I had assumed conversation (and more) last evening, though - that is where things fail: upon that assumption. Gonna have to watch that assumption stuff, tough.

Alrighty, writing this did not really help me that muchly, but at least I have made a record of it.

Journal entry made not as a part of US Code 2257 record keeping requirements.

( Read more... )

K, update and record keeping complete.

[Also, for greatestjournal, I copied many missing entries from insanejournal to here, from 8/15 to the current]

Frente! is so cool, and pretty, too:

( lyrics only )

Lol, I promised "random," right?

Just one of the many pretty artists I did not know before I met the one before this another.

The other day I was remembering her, and how one of my friends, in his thirties, asked me, rather plainly, ('cause she was only 19 at the time, see), "she makes you feel young (I was 42), then?"

I did not have a definitive answer, except to say that I really didn't account for her age when we were together: we just were.

And so, yeah, I was thinking this over the other day in regard to this current another, and my answer was lots more crystal: it's not she makes me feel younger, it's that she makes me feel, period.

Smiling..she texted me last evening, before our nine o'clock when the minutes plan lets us talk at length. It didn't take long for things to get out of hand, sexy text style. Laughing, and I am sorry for the tmi, or loi, but this is my journal, so I wanna quote one of those texts that was the beginning of the end..

( more involved information (Mii!) )

Prettiness for us.

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It's always like this: you know just what you want to say and just how you want to say it. But then, once you got that listener in earshot, you give it your best shot - and it ends up coming out like a line from an old song from the Police, leaving you to wonder at your complete inability to form intelligible sentences, even the simplest of these: I love you, I want you, I need you.

"You're never going to be able to move here, and I'm never going to be able to move there," she said, however many paragraphs into our conversation.

"I see," I replied, "I didn't realize 'never' was a part of it."

I don't remember what either of us said after that in regard to never - but definitely knew how I felt about always.

I talked about how fair I could not be to her, in her (and my) present condition: she in the early days of a breakup from a way long term thing, me wanting all of her.

"Maybe I should just leave you alone for a year or so," I thought out loud, "maybe that's the best I can do."

"Are you looking for a way out?"

"No, but I don't see a way in, right now [and I so want all the way in]."

There was then a hang up from her end, and I thought to myself how she had mentioned earlier in the conversation that I had never been mad at her yet. I still wasn't, but, later, I did promise her a spanking ("goose") for that bit.

I confessed (and agreed with her), later, that my statement that the 46 could never be fair to the 2_ was a pretentious one.

Then we made love the best we could at a distance of several hundred miles.

She sounds so lovely when she cums.

"It's what I wanted when I came here, tonight," I managed, without a stutter or flutter, leaving out my "oh baby, I want you in every possible way."

I promised to do my very best and still not to hold anything back or play any game of charades.

Core components, however, are not expected to change.

I don't mind this.

"[Yanno, 'cause I did say, lo these seven years ago, that I was gonna keep a record and all, so someone, someday, maybe even me, would know what ever happened to me.]

So yah, there's more. Of course, there's more.

Allow me to ramble, then, dear journal, stream of conscience-style.

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"I don't know what, but I..definitely..must write.

I'm not sure why I am having such supreme difficulties in putting things into words, these days. Certainly, this is not any kind of problem I have encountered in any substantial way in the past.

How do I get there? How did I always get there? How did I force my mouth open in the past?...when ...I'd say what I felt..and..it was part of what made her fall in love with me?

How did I do that?

( Read more... )

With a nod (or, more like, a vigorous nodding of the head) that it is impossible for me to be...fair?, much less look away, I like this.

And, I am really liking Nick Cave's "He Wants You," too."

"And I just got, just now - I mean, found you'd sent 'em - the two texts you'd sent late last night.

I'm glad. Happy for you, both.

[Retro, 8:05 PM; these texts being the ones saying she had broken up with her very long-time boyfriend; that statement, however, is not about me, but rather, just a recording of the facts.]"

"Retroflections on a trip.

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"Wow.

Ain't gonna be able to capture all that in any kind of journal entry.

Nope.

On my way back home from my visit with this beautiful person and in that beautiful place, my feeling had been that I might as well come back here and make a journal entry that just said something to the effect, of, ""Wow. Okay, I'm out, now, and all done, here.""

I have no idea why we both thought it'd be so easy to stay back from one another, even as we embraced; I really don't. No idea why we kidded each other and ourselves that that would be oh so possible.

No matter what it looked or looks like from the outside, I was, indeed, convinced, by the time I embarked upon the trip up that that would be both possible and would be the eventuality.

I was so wrong, and I am so glad.

Not because I/we ended up having sex, though - but because I have a feeling about how things might have felt last night, and this morning, and in the days to come, had we not. Maybe I am only privy to that feeling, however, because of the fact we did - after all, otherwise it'd be just a lifeless dream of what might have been, instead of the warm vibrant facts of what is.

We made it all the way to just before dawn.

Mkay, though, I was right at the subject line, at the ""omg"": there ain't no way I'm going to be able to capture in any substantial essence even a small fraction of what our 15-hour visit with each other was, consisted of, meant, means, or might mean.

A summary?

K.

""How old was I when you came?""

""2_"" (there's a whole number gets inserted at the blank line)

I'd say that about sums it all up, yup.

Single word summary?

""Totality.""

But yes, I could write forever.

I better soonly get started on that."

"Oh boy. Today is the day.

It's been over four years since I ""met"" someone this way, real touch-style.

I'd be way lying if I said I was not at least slightly nervous.

But, today is the day, in just about ten hours, depending on traffic and rain and perhaps, other things, known only to the universe.

Laughing. I wonder how it will all be. Today, tonight, sometime tomorrow, and in three weeks, three months, three years.

She's sweetness."

"Laughing.

Smiling.

Grinning.

Shaking my head.

Muttering, ""spring does to the cherry trees, indeed""!

Laughing so much. Oh my god, that doesn't begin to cover it, not even a petal.

Dare I say, ""not even 2 or 4 of your soft pink petals,"" dear?

I love you, [name], I love you so much.

I might be crazy for that, but somehow, I don't mind.

Somehow, I do not mind a bit.

Kisses, baby."

And I miss her, even as we have been talking via telephone almost daily.

I'm smiling (probably just wryly, though) as I write this. What was it, then, my observtion of several moments ago. Oh yes, that was it, the ironic parallel.

What an ironic parallel, how much I want her, in all the ways, and yet, her age of majority aside, I have way too strong a suspicion, I guess, that I just can't have her. Laughing. So funny - with those under that magic 18 number, I don't have to even second guess a thing: I know I ain't allowed to have those, rightly so, in any way at all.

And yet, here she is, and all I want to do is love her, and every single thing that comes with that territory, and still, the push it back exists - for good reason - as she is, really, no more available than the preteen down the street.

Still, though, I do let her in in the quiet in between times; she's never been anything but beautiful in those moments.

And yes, fuck yes, you fucking bet I wonder how fucking scary things are going to be when if this - this, whatever it is we are doing - finally presents enough impossiblities to close any doors still remain open a crack at the moment.

I mean, yah, it would be okay. It has to be okay. There aren't options for it not to be.

I miss her voice in its vulnerable state.

In any case, I can't imagine the visit would not be a good thing, regardless. At the very least, a necessary thing.

Admittedly, this is one seriously random journal entry - but as always, I'm trying to keep some kind of record.

Not exactly word hangover, but dang, the things I say (errr, and do, too).

Notation of text entry at last Thursday, aside, barring happenstance, the meeting will still occur, shortly, shortly, shortly, now.

I'm cranking on work, so I don't have time to write about the text mesage conversation that followed that hasty entry, or the camping trip with the boys, or other things.

I sure do like not boring, though.

( I broke some more words into little sections of text. )

[Text sent, 12:30 AM, August 17]

"Okay, and its okay. I guess I could ask, out of curiosity, you're staying for life, then?"

I will write more about this tomorrow or Saturday.

Or..I dunno, maybe a bit now. I'm busy - gotta be ready for this appointment on Saturday.

I dunno. Lol, heh, definitely had that coming, I suppose. I can never be mean enough, though. I might have to learn it in the future, or for the future.

Those with existing attachments ought shall not be permitted in my heart.

I think it will be a good policy. Certainly, an honorable and well meaning enough one.

< smile and sigh, I suppose >

It's cool. As my step dad always said, "you'll have that."

Okee, must get back to it.

[I getta kick outta numbers; the ones at the time of day, above, being the same as those recorded at the birth of that first born son, the subject of the previous entry.]

I have woken up the boychildren, and surprised them with a kinda sorta sticking to my word thing, and asked if they'd like to go mini-golfing - having earlier in the week, dealing with the disappointment of me having rescheduled the camping trip for the second time, for yet another weekend in the future, I promised we we do some things during the week (this among them) to make the time go quicker in getting to the next promised weekend.

***

We (Another and I) had a several hours long conversation again last evening.

At its close, the topic settled on "what are we doing, here," given various and sundry and very real limitations. There seemed to be some conclusion, though I don't think either of us would call it that at the moment, that what we are really doing is just failing to say goodbye.

***

For now, though, something prettier.


If You Forget Me


I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda