Tablesaw!

Vacation is ending, and I feel very alone.

I woke myself up at five a.m. to watch a sunrise that was obscured by clouds that weren't on the horizon last night and will be gone completely by the time we check out of the house at ten. Nobody else in this house or, apparently, any other nearby house had the desire to try same.

Two nights ago I slept in the lounge for the same reason, to set my alarm for five a.m. with the hope of watching the sun be on the wrong side of the day. I stayed up late drinking with my housemates and fell asleep to the susurrations of a slightly more than tipsy woman and her devoted lover, who stood a hawklike vigil over her while she drank water and whispered herself to sleep. The whole thing left me feeling odd.

I miss Ex, more right now than I have in a while, undoubtedly due, in no small part, to the fact that two of the most beautiful and brilliant women I've met are here in this house with me, both of whom bear a more than passing resemblance to Ex. When one walks by, glowing with love for her beau, my body twists in memory and anticipation. But I don't wish that Ex and I were still together and lying together on the beach, nor do I wish that one of the women here were with me instead of her actual boyfriend. I want something more encompassing and more fundamental.

When Ex and I broke up and I had my life-shattering breakdown, I lost a lot of people I love, not just Ex. "You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else" says an old saw, and I've seen enough to know it's true. I lost loves and friendships because I wasn't able to give them the love I once did. And for quite a while after that time, while I was rebuilding myself, I certainly didn't miss the requirement, the need to pour out love I didn't yet have.

It's about a year and a half later, and I've started to ache. It started when veek visited. She came to LA with an openness to be loved and a life I now envy so much, a life with many people with whom she can commune. I responded more earnestly than I could have expected, more emotionally than I had in over eighteen months, leaving my weak and trying to find, again, what I was missing.

I worry now. The ache of love shakes me all over, and I am not certain I can stay alive if warehouses of compassion must be left untouched to mold and mildew.

How do I tell the people here (and only certain people, at that) that I'd be willing to lay down my life for them? It's not so much a matter of friendship and camaraderie or good conversations and shared experiences, it's instinct. How can I do it without needing to disclaim, "And I'm not a crazy stalker-type, honest!" And how do I become a friend again when, within hours, everyone will once again be hundreds and thousands of miles away?

There's one person here, possibly (hopefully) two, who knows how I feel, and that is a blessing. I'd probably be feeling less disoriented today if I'd had a chance to talk with either of them earlier yesterday.

I want a lover, today, so that I can hold her in my arms and tell her that I love her and that I will always love her and that I would do anything for her and that I would lay down my life for her and that I would go to the ends of the earth for her and that I would turn my back on Heaven's gates if the politics of God and the afterlife prevent her from entering Paradise. I want to hold her and while doing it, also say the same to so tell her so many others who wouldn't or couldn't understand.


The sun is up, and the clouds are gone, and I have to pack.

I've still had a great time, and enjoyed this week as much as, if not more than, any other vacation in my life, but card games and Clone Wars can wait for a while to be recorded, this can't. I hope you understand. See you at home.

I generally avoid quizzes and surveys, etc., but this quiz has piqued my interest because of the apparently large number of people who have completed it while describing how angry or otherwise upset they are that they are doing so. ( So here's the oddly-hated quiz. )

Despite having been scheduled as the lector for tonight's Mass, T. was nowhere to be found. Looks like I'll have to fall back on plan B and drop by her work, although I have a sinking suspicion she won't be there if I do.

I. has closed off contact at eharmony. Too bad. There also goes my interest in the site. QB has not yet responded to last email.

Getting up for Mass has left me tired, and although it was very warm today, it has just rained, leaving me disinclined to jump into the pool as earlier mentioned.

And veek has left the state. All in all, a generally sucky day.

After coffee today veek and I went on a long walk. We talked about many things, but the topics were not important. (That is to say, they were important to us, but you don't get to know.) I talked a little about a game I was writing, as well.

Something has happened that hasn't happened in a LONG time. I'm percolating. I'm not just having ideas, working them, massaging them, trying them; they're growing again, like up to now they've had jumper cables connected to them but no other car.

Yes, veek was the car. I've gone a long time without the intellectual/spiritual/emotional sustenance that I get from a long conversation about personal things with someone. (And I don't use those slashes lightly. I've gotten intellectual and spiritual and emotional sustenance, but not the special blend of all three at the same time.) It hit me strongly as I was walking, while I listened to veek. And gears started turning.

Somehow, on the walk back to my car (sans veek, who had been dropped off at her house), the game I was talking about grew. This has happened to me before, of course, but not in a while. Not in the organic way that this story did. Not in the way in which I feel that my head is about to explode letting a living idea out of me in much the way I imagine Athena shooting out of Zeus. I'm no longer certain that I'll be able to write the game--I wasn't certain of that before either--but what I am certain of is that by Monday I'll have written a short story.

And this story is spreading life to the other ideas I've been holding for so long trying to get going. Everything's happening again.

If I were in college, I'd blow off class and work through the night, but I've got to sleep, if I can, though I'll probably take my notebook into bed with me to let something out.

Please God, I pray, let this be in my head when I wake up.

Veekstravaganza was fun, but I am going to bed now and shall save most of the details until later. I need to go to sleep now and try to get the better of this habanero.

I wanted to go to bed an hour ago, but laundry has prevented that. I should have known better. After I got back from my walk, I forgot to set the dryer running again. But it should end shortly.

Since I was awake and drowsy, I sent a Match contact to the wheelchair girl (who, if she responds, is definitely getting a new pseudonym). She really does have a great profile, it kind of left me at a loss for words when drafting my response. Hopefully that comes across as "endearingly disarmed" and not "slackjawed."

I've weighed that options, and barging into the Parish Center to ask T. out would, I believe, be less embarrassing that trying to enlist mother's help. Maybe veek can get me tipsy on Thursday morning and push my toward the church. Or maybe I could wait until Sunday, if I didn't fear veek kicking my fundament for procrastination.

Going to lie down now, while my pants lose their moistness.

Attending the tonight's reading and talking with veek got me thinking about this "e-literature" thang. On the whole, I don't like it. And I take exception for "interactive fiction." I thought that I should put these ideas down into a concrete form, so I'm doing it here, fully expecting, and anticipating, a response from veek, at least, pointing out flaws, raising questions, and directing me towards e-lit that is more my style.

Let me begin by saying that the term "e-literature" is amorphous and academic and since I don't really travel in those circles, I'm probably going to horrible misuse it. Further, "interactive fiction" is a vague term defined by tradition among a group of people who often can't come to a consensus about whether or not to come in from the rain. So my terms are undefined, and they will probably get worse as I go on. This is why I am writing in my journal, and not to some important place.
( Click Here! It's all you can do! )

FriNYTX: 17, most of which was spent figuring out 1,2,3D. 14A was fantastic, but other than that, I was having trouble.
FriLATX is not available yet.

veek is in town, and I'll be meeting her at the Hammer tonight. That means getting up early, which means going to bed early, which means no walk. Sigh.

On the plus side, electronic literature and friend from London! Yay!

Went for a walk today, just because I hadn't for a while. A one-hour loop up into the foothills then back down. It nicely killed some time until the "no parking" period ended on my street. I think I'll try to do that more often for a while, although I know that intention will be prevented a bit by the demands of the Easter Triduum. Maundy Thursday Mass is at 6pm, I think, which means I'll have to be in bed early tomorrow, with clean feet. If I really loved the church, I'd get a pedicure so that Father Alden didn't have to deal with my nasty feet, but I'll just make sure they're not freakishly long or dirty. Then there's the long Holy Saturday, for which I still have no puzzle. I had some ideas involving movies on my walk, but all fizzled. Maybe I'll just try to fill a crossword grid and see how it goes over. Although that's stressful too, considering that a constructor for the NYT and the weekly constructor for the LAT (local only) will both be in attendence.

Whoops. Almost forgot to set tape for Sesame Street for veek's little brother. Stayed awake a bit longer than I should have because I told her I'd be around later. Sorry veek, sleep calls at the end of this entry. I have the distinct feeling that there is something I intended to put in here, but all I can think right now is "Mmmm...lying down." Probably something about how good it feels to be walking around on my feet and legs and other lower parts of my body. It also probably sounded better before I got all dopey-sleepy. G'night all.

I had to run some errands this morning: mailed some bills, filled a prescription (remember to pick it up on the way home from work) and picked up some blank videotapes to tape Sesame Street for veek. Since I was near the local Wherehouse, I figured I'd buy the tapes there. Since I was buying blank tapes at the Wherehouse, I figured I'd scan through the used CD collection. Since they were cheap, I figured I'd pick up Whatever and Ever Amen by Ben Folds Five and Born on a Pirate Ship by the Barenaked Ladies. These were both albums that I listened to quite a lot during my first two years of college in D.C., although I had never owned a copy of either. When I got home, I set Whatever playing on the stereo and lay down to rest, reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

( Nostalgia and Melancholy... )