pee oh ee em

O Could One Write as One Makes Love


O could one write as one makes love
when all is given and nothing kept,
then language might put by at last
its coy elisions and inept
withdrawals, yield, and yielding cast
aside like useless clothes the crust
of worn and shabby use, and trust

its candour to the urgent mind,
its beauty to the searching tongue.
Safe in the world's great house with all
its loves and griefs, at ease among
its earthly fruits, original
as earth and air, the body learns
peace, while the mind in torment burns

to strip the cloak of daily use
from language. Could one seize and move
the stubborn words to yield and sing,
then one would write as one makes love
and poems and revelations spring
like children from the mind's desire,
original as light and fire.

-- Gwen Harwood

A thought disorder.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/11/fashion/11madpride.html

Make mine a double.

What stops me from being that old man at the bar
falling into his drink
and thinking how far
he hasn't come?

Chasing waterfalls.

I need to pee but I'm going to finish this post before I relieve myself.

Work is getting on my nerves. I'm devoting a fair bit of time to something that is not giving me back what I want. It's great getting a pay-check at the end of each month, don't get me wrong, but at what price? I'm convinced that I will have a thousand more opportunities once I speak fluent French. But that's going to take at least until the end of the year. That's 8 months away. I'm fortunate, really I am. I'm relatively healthy, earning money, acting in a show for the Fringe festival, learning French a couple times a week, living in Paris (!) with the man I love and I've made some very special friends. All this and still not...full. Focus, I need focus. I guess I've set the context now I just have to write the story. Writing, acting, thinking, doing...

Now I REALLY need to pee. 'Scuse me.

Um/Aaah...

How did I ever pass exams? How did I ever get through University? Now, I can't concentrate. I must have been able to concentrate in the past, if I was able to achieve what I did. Now, the focus isn't so clear. It's as though I can't see the target but I know it's there, so I just continue to fire occasional and random shots, hoping but not really trying to hit it. With this method, I sometimes get what I want. This is not always a good thing as it means I don't try harder. Harder. More. Focus. Perhaps concentration is exhaustive? No, that can't be true. I think it's laziness. procrastination, hesitation, indecision. Such a middle class dilemma. How repulsive.

Almost unbelievable. But true.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/13/us/13bishop.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin

Him...you.

Ce soir, a girls night. Good fun. And now there is just me. No girls...and no boyfriend. He is far away, flying over the sea towards America. There for 2 weeks, working.

I miss him. I don't know if this means that I am not independent. I feel independent. But life is better with him. Everything is more whole. Every day is more...everything. I don't think this means that I am less without him. But I know that I am more with him. He makes my smile wider. Corny. And true.

I love him.

And then there was two.

To you: you want me how I want to be wanted.