The sound of you sleeping

I want to be able to call you. I want to be able to knock on your door. I want to be able to keep your key and to give you mine. I want to be seen with you in public. I want there to be no gossip. I want to make supper with you. I want to go shopping with you. I want to know that nothing can come between us except each other.



Winterson, Jeanette. The PowerBook. Great Britain: Jonathan Cape, 2000.

The sound of you sleeping

This quote from Kate Bornstein's Gender Outlaw is always lurking somewhere in my mind:

But there’s always one of them who looks at you
      with longing.
And that scares you the most,
Because if you let that longing into your heart, you have to
      accept yourself
      just the way you are.

It's taken out of context, but it rings true - at least for me.

I've seen me, my secrets - skeletons I buried so deep it'd take years of excavation to unearth them - the depth and darkness I'm so susceptible to. I haven't seen all of me, but that's enough for me to realize ... I can't accept myself the way I am - and I don't think anybody should.

What scares me the most, I think, is the person I look at with longing looking back at me with the same longing ... I'm afraid for the both of us.

The sound of you sleeping

When TC found out the year I was born in, he asked, "Do you want me to introduce my brother to you? He was born in the same year as you!"

Bizarre reason, that.

I'm spring-cleaning at work. Putting aside my database for a bit today, I worked on tidying up my boss's personal file; a couple of hours tomorrow oughta be enough to complete that.

I keep remembering Doreen's (I think) words (which goes something like): Nobody is indispensible; if you are a truly efficient worker, even if you weren't around, everything will still be able to go on seamlessly.

Suppose I'm working with that now.

The sound of you sleeping

After the boss left today, the financial controller asked, "Your boss is going away for the rest of the month - will you miss him?"

I will - not that I'll ever admit to any of my colleagues that I'm really quite fond of my boss: He's the paperweight of logic and reason; without him around, the slightest breeze will cause the loose leaves of my thoughts to scatter.

The bigger and brighter the moon, the more her beauty stirs the calm surface.

The sound of you sleeping

Tonight in the park: Hordes of Chinese people (especially children) with (mostly) paper lanterns, and three Indian guys plays cricket without the benefit of wickets.

And an overweight middle-aged woman who tsked in annoyance at me when my dog ventured within 5 inches of her for a sniff: "Tsk! Why your dog liddat one?"

I heard her, even with headphones on, and I almost wanted to demand of her slighter husband (who was trailing three steps behind her), "Tsk! Why your pig liddat one?"

No, dearie - fight with a pig at her level and you'll both get dirty - and she'll enjoy it - so be good.

The sound of you sleeping

Exhausted. Something somewhere hurts ... again. But we were taught 2 other variations of the spiral and also two variations of an invert, the star.

Good practice.

I've got some patches of broken veins (I think) on my cheek bones, it seems. I can't imagine how I got them (they appeared after pole prac).

The sound of you sleeping

I don't want a pillow I want your moving breathing flesh. I want you to hold my hand in the dark, I want to roll on to you and push myself into you. When I turn in the night the bed is continent-broad. There is endless white space where you won't be. I travel it inch by inch but you're not there. It's not a game, you're not going to leap out and surprise me. The bed is empty. I'm in it but the bed is empty.



Winterson, Jeanette. Written on the Body. London: Vintage, 1993.

The sound of you sleeping

The first of what (I fear) would be a series of stumbles and obstacles: My doc has taken over a week to complete my medical report ("It's not urgent, right?"), and when I went to collect it today, I was told he'd forgotten a blood test; which meant I needed to give more blood (the doc-on-duty used a different vein and had problems drawing enough blood, which meant I'd get a bruise from the needle); which meant another wait for another test result.

I can only grit my teeth and soldier on ... I have to.

Tonight'll be awesome - I've just taken 2 different types of pills that are drowsiness-inducing - but tomorrow will be really fucked.

The sound of you sleeping

Re-started on Written on the Body, and made the fastest and farthest progress I have in all the time I was reading it. Call me biased, but, so far, it's been nothing but wondrous and beautiful.

Was tempted today in Borders by the books of poetry by Charles Bukowski, but I didn't buy any. I don't like buying books without having read them; I want to be sure I like a book (or that it's good) before purchasing a copy for myself.

There are no guarantees in life, but if it could be helped, I always like to buy myself a little certainty.

The sound of you mumbling =)

It's such a treat when you watch a truly gifted dancer perform before your eyes, even without costumes or whatever - showmanship transcends the need for those frills.

So Linna showed us the choreo for the second module and I was in awe, because seriously, I've never seen a better dancer live.

So it was really a treat ...

And, I think I might retire my dance shoes tonight.

Sigh.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

Good news: It's muscular after all.

Even better news: I only need to take about 5 days off to rest it.

Best news: I get Norgesic to relax the muscles - which might also put me to sleep! (Woot!)

My doc's a funny guy sometimes. Asked I, "So I only need to take 5 days off, right?"

Doc: "Yes; don't over-exert the muscles."

"5 days from now?"

Doc: "5 days from when you want to stop hurting."

=/

The sound of you sleeping

I bought medicated plasters (a pack of 3) before dinner yesterday and I've been using them ... to no avail. Scarily, I think that might mean my injury is not in fact muscular ... =(

Hopefully it feels better tomorrow.

Sigh.

The sound of you sleeping

Jen and I finally did dinner at Les Bouchons, and we walked past Toca Me a few times. She thought the crowd (on the outside) looked very young, so we didn't go in and ended up at Loof for drinkies.

My side hurts pretty bad now; not sure whether I'm hoping it is a pulled muscle (and not, say, cracked ribs) or not. I'm unwilling to stop pole for even 2 weeks for it to heal - and whatever it is, it sure as hell will take more than 2 weeks to go away.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

It occurred to me as I was showering just now that this unusually busy day for me reminded me of the crazy EoQ's I used to have with my previous companies, tallying and compiling and what-not - and I kinda missed them.

Was so busy today I didn't have the chance to communicate with anybody about anything other than work.

Even the boss - I prolly spoke less than 5 words to him today. He asked his usual, "Are you okay?" and then proceeded to tell me he was feeling better (I didn't ask - I never do), etc.

I won't see him for most of next week; I think I might miss him ... just a little.