Thursday, March 22, 2012
Okay, I'm done - maybe. Sweetheart, oh grrrrrr. It is so tough being our age, isn't it? Man, it's so much easier to be younger, illusions mostly intact, or if not, then hope - oh, never mind, I'm not going to complete that thought. And just now a mosquito bit me --- that bug's moments are numbered - I tell you!
Okay, okay, I'll calm down, I'm fine, I am. It was a nice day. I just pulled a roast chicken out of the oven, and in went a pan of orangey chopped root vegetables to caramelize. I have a number of blouses – a half-dozen – hanging in the closet, that I bought for, I’m not kidding, five dollars apiece, on clearance at the local department store last spring. And even at that price (originally $40) I was looking at them ruefully - they look so frumpy & boring - I had a mind to give them to Goodwill. But these days, with the sudden incredibly mild spring -- they've turned out to be just the perfect, wonderful, very comfortable tops to wear with jeans -- and they look quite nice on me (better than on hangers). I'm glad I didn't donate them -- or else I would have nothing to wear around the house & environs these days. My life such as it is -- as much as I would like to keep a "little black dress handy" -- revolving mostly about home, ShopRite, walks around here, the church to practice the weekly half-dozen, and maybe the library.
So my dearest Bacchus, yes I'm your Ariadne, a bit grumpy this evening -- oh not really, I'm fine. The sun is shining. The chicken & the roasting vegetables smell divine. I'm alive. I had a wonderful time with you today. I found Cornish hens marked down 45 percent, cheaper than chicken. I'm enjoying the biography of Joseph Cornell. I've been remembering a few dreams on waking, and noting them again. Tomorrow's Friday. Maybe this weekend I'll drive down to Rhinebeck. I'm very very glad to connect with you. I get the sense that you're home these days. I read an Op-Ed in the Times today, about homesickness in the age of globalization -- and I thought of you, wondered if you get homesick, imagined that you do, though also I get the feeling that you like being away, or not so much in the thick of things, where it’s not "you" so much as a "representative-function" you - but still, one can be profoundly homesick, even while home, or away, for something, some elusive -- oh what is it?
As a little girl, in the moments before I'd fall asleep I used to feel this strange sense of yearning, falling, longing, immersion, pulling, tending, as I started to lose consciousness in not only the darkness of the room, but in my mind, eyes shut, mind emptying, filling with something else. It happened so often that I would try to grasp that sensation, as I lay in darkness on the verge of sleeping and wakefulness, that very edge -- as a girl, I couldn't name what it was that I was feeling, this enormous feeling of being enveloped and drawn in -- into what, into what? I still don't know, really, except that the idea of falling asleep in your arms, hours from now, after the sun - suddenly turning the light in the aerie rosy – has set, is very appealing, just sinking into them, not quite Ariadne:Bacchus, in that way that she seems to be falling, and he's picking her up, although it's a three-dimensional sculpture, I would love to see other angles of it...
and the sensation is of slipping comfortably into each other's arms, because we fit right together, and feel right, and there's no game-forcing, or reverse-responding, it is just all comme il faut, though possibly not the way my Victorian Babcia meant it, though I believe she was no stranger to passion herself...
And I'm no revisionist historian -- no, rather I'm a dreaming, yearning, ever-hopeful futurist
many kisses - one two three - on your lips just now darling
your beautiful face & lips
and more later