Tuesday, September 13, 2011

My dearest, back from a walk on this most gorgeous day. The sun was warm on my face and arms, a strong breeze made musical instruments of the trees, zillions of leaves set into satisfying rustling sussurations, the creek is still running high, many treetrunks on either bank submerged, and in places is running whitewater - even the ducks seem to be avoiding the rushing waters. They're so beautiful though, and absolutely matched my mood, turbulent gray-green waters flooding over rocks, meeting other waves in white turbulent crests and froth - also a wonderful sound, that, neverending wild water coursing, pounding, enveloping, overtaking, over and over, again and again, mysterious pockets of passion over the shoals, where steps further as I walked, in the opposite direction of the teeming current, the water perhaps deeper in that spot, a wider bay, a turn of river, seemed placid - so what causes the water, no more than a few dozen yards downcreek, to suddenly become turbulent and accelerate like that? Maybe it's the excitement of the rocks, a narrowed passage, a hurtling funneling towards - the water is mindless, it flows downhill, has no idea it's rushing, along with other capillaries with which it joins around here, to a beautiful majestic still river, so grand and old and pulsing that more than a hundred miles north of its mouth, here still, as if taking long slow breaths on a different scale, like a whale, moves, by comparison, at a glacial pace, tidally.

Sweetheart, that passage could stand some polishing, but I like rushing waters must move on. I have felt very close to you all day. I had such trouble in the morning, wasted an inordinate amount of time in frustration, finally gave up, made myself useful in other ways (cleaned baths, cooked a feta omelet with flash-seared baby spinach for lunch). I'm starting to think it doesn't work so well for me in the morning, perhaps I'm too restless to get other things done. I felt distracted, thinking about 1.0's book that I read a bit. I got it, mostly - and yet I didn't. There's something about it that my brain (or mind) worries, chews over, hasn't quite digested. Anyway, thoughts as those, and trying to get to the bottom of them, don't work very well in the bedroom. Anyway, I felt super close to you today, I don't know, I feel that I "get" you - very much today, I wish we could date in precisely that way, and maybe that's what helped, because later I tried again and closed my eyes and concentrated and at first we were up in a very small treehouse where you were by yourself at your computer, and then I climbed into it, and joined you, way up in the little wood room, space only enough for the two of us lying down, and I interrupted you from your lonely computer explorations, and I was happy to do so, and so we lay down on the wood floor and there were a couple of little window openings in this high-up beautiful little private treehouse that outside the windows was just the flash & glint of bright sunlit lemon-lime leaves. Well all that as I lay daydreaming did nothing - yet again - until I changed my fantasy, and was no longer beautifully, naturalistically naked but rather dressed in weightless highly complicated garments with provocative cutouts in strategic places, which you found, and it's about the fabric, no it's about the cutout, the cutout is a slit, it's the effect, no it's the 0D

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