Saturday, December 31, 2011

Darling, you're right,
never mind about dancing,
let's steal away
and go skinnydipping,
in the Thames,
or Lake George,
or Carly's old pool...

overheard this week at a local women's clothing store that is going out of business...
So what are you going to do after this?
I'm moving to Lake George
Lake George? what's up there?
It's beautiful there!
What are you going to do - go ice skating?
No I'm not going to go ice skating...
... still in peaceful dreams I see
the road leads back to you...

Darling, it is related to the civil war in the mind, that whole Master/Emissary split, what I described yesterday, the real and metaphoric differences between Olivier and Monroe, as well as among branches of my family...

Dearest, I'm up here on this New Years Eve, thinking very much of you, and making sense of a very few but eloquent, or meaningful to me, page hits. I wonder about your finding my blog quite often via the disturbing Francis Bacon image, and you always access it the same way, not quite the right phrase, a letter off, and so I know, despite disparate geographic ISPs, that it's the same person - you? I always imagine it's you - yet don't quite know what to make of it. Except that the image is disturbing, and makes me feel that you're communicating your internal distress to me -- I don't know.

Or - perhaps that's how you like it - having googled it myself, and come across erotic images - Bacon's isn't, I mean other ones - I imagine it myself, and you...

I do feel hopeful about 2012. Perhaps I will see you.

I don't feel despairing (anymore) that I didn't see you this year. No - there is still next year, the coming days -- who knows?

And it's all impossible anyway, but - how nice is this nice touching between us?

Dinner tonight will be awesome. D bought mussels, and will prepare them in a saffron sauce of his that is just divine. I look forward to it already, the heady aromatic delicious suffusion. He headed into town for a couple of hours "to keep things moving," and I suggested that he stop by a newish cafe there, that has a very fancy oven - imported brick by brick from a Columbia County equivalent in the French countryside - and pick up one of their baguettes, that we can have with the meal, to savor the sauce. It's late - past five - the cafe may well be out of baguettes, in which case we'll go back to plan A - fettucine...

Sweetheart, I had a divine time with you this afternoon. And the sun came out from time to time today, and it was quite mild outdoors, in the 40s, still green. I put up the thermostat, took off my clothes... and it took a while, so much perambulating around & around in my head and all elsewhere to finally get that final focus... do you know - I think my fantasies have very little to do with what would transpire if we were to get together - I'm not sure it's entirely anatomically possible, what I imagine, my mouth isn't large enough, my teeth, my throat - and yet it's what I picture, you clutch me by my hair

And that's it, really. I would love to visit Chicago again. Now I have a fantasy of going there by train. I would love to see it with you, through your eyes, since you know the city so well.

I won't lose my bag, as I did on my first and only previous trip to Chicago - I accidentally left my handbag, containing my wallet, on the plane...

funny - I had a similar dream just last night - which I noted in my very last dream journal entry of the year - it was about how I was in Amherst, and misplaced not only my handbag with two one-hundred dollar bills, but couldn't remember where I'd parked the car either... and yet I wished to see the sights, check out the village center, the restaurants, maybe get an ice cream, before I had to leave...

Sweetheart, my dearest Falling Rocket of a beloved wonder...
have a wonderful evening this night
with falling rockets
and popping champagne corks
and kisses all around to everyone

I love you very much
see you next year - starting
abacus style - tomorrow

Georgia O'Keeffe (Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, 1887-1986, Santa Fe, New Mexico), Lake George [formerly Reflection Seascape], 1922, oil on canvas, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

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