Sunday, May 28, 2006

You put your life in the hands of the Urban Planner

-21st Century Pop Song by Hymee's Basement

I had a horrible dream a few nights ago. Both horrible at how obvious it was, and horrible at how true it was. These are the only horrible factors. In the dream, every ex-partner was amalgamed onto my father's face. Their bodies were his body. My father's face appeared again and again, like a flash film, like one pixel somehow was every ex, every Devdutt, every Dayna, every Matt, every Michelle. I don't know how in description it actually occured, but it was heart-wrecking in its accuracy. I somehow knew in five seconds of observation that I had sought, for over 17 years now, love that was not just dead, but not useful when he was even alive. God love you dad, you were emotionally distant and unresponsive for the most part, both alive and dead you continue to be so. And, like my mother, I continued to see you even post-mortem, emotional patterning and all.

Tonight, lots of lovely folk came to my birthday party. I was amazed, though I never should be amazed, at the sort of congregation Erika and I can produce on relatively short notice. Camping friends bedammed, AG showed with her "35 guests", JP showed due to a lack of a monster torrent, the regular PGI crew made a half notice and we had a fire show sponsored and produced by T and friends. Neighbors were happily absent (out Memorial Day camping, I suppose).

I did have crushes present, which felt prescient considering the dream the night before! Usually, I would have bent all to spend time with them, only, well, at this moment they are all taken, and, also, I am wary to repeat anything like what the dream taught me about my tendencies in attraction. It is curious to explore draw. And more: after a year of celibacy, I can recognize that draw and also let it go. Maybe it will have different times, maybe not. I'm learning to make friends with love of all kinds. Certainly not now, not as I am entering 2 months of constant travel, is the time to disrupt much. So I flirted, both with the open and concealed flames, and was able to wrap up the night happy, feeling well-appreciated, and relatively sober.

That's where I am now.

I saw Prayas (co-blogger on this blog, occasionally) on a conference fluke two weeks ago in Chicago, IL, USA. What a thing! To see someone you hadn't thought you'd see on your own continent for a long time, someone you were convinced you wouldn't see for another year entirely! It has this effect, unexpected comfort, of someone you know, you bonded with, you met, and you can just click right in to what you need, as short as it was/is.

I have grown older, and in my growth seen just how significant friends are. I am not as likely to give license to a stranger who likes my face only to show me the emotional distance I radiate for in romance. Friends are more likely to get - and deserve! - my companionship.

"It's the perfect day, Elise" says PJ Harvey, and I am finding it hard to argue, difficult nearly-done job stuff aside, going to bed alone aside (that would have bothered me so much so more two years ago), all the discomforts of dancing with drunks (bruised toes and nose) aside, it is, Elise. Perfect day. Happy birthday (week) to me!

2 comments:

  1. missed your birthday :( I am bad with these things...

    happy birthweek, anyway!

    "I somehow knew in five seconds of observation that I had sought, for over 17 years now, love that was not just dead, but not useful when he was even alive."

    love being useful and not... hmmm, I can somehow relate that to a line in one of glen duncan's books, "passion with nowhere to go."

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  2. don't worry about missing it, darlin! it was so good to see you. welcome back to our blog. i have spread word to a few friends that it is here (i hadn't much previous to now) and so there will likely be more visitors...
    ; )

    when is love not useful? so interesting...

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