L'histoire - a brief history
I am dreaming, remembering, how romantic it was the way we met. I was so very dissolusioned with my marriage and I was hagning out with the college crowd at CWRU and I had a friend who was, well, very different; an artiste, very avant guarde. She was studying literature and drama at Case (which is not why people go there - liberal arts in not the typical course of study). At any rate she invited me out to some sort of on-campus concert - it was a cover band - a Led Zeppelin cover band - and I went - that's when I met him. He was very tall and lanky and had flowing blonde hair and really piercing blue eyes. He and I began to talk about how badly the band sucked and before too long we were just talking about everything. The next time we met my friend had invited me to see her in a play. Somehow this young man was there again too - we eneded up sitting next to each other and he had me laughing so hard I was crying. The play was not very good - but he was magical. We all ended up going out for drinks afterwards at the Grog Shoppe in Cleveland Heights - (it is still a great place to go). We really connected. He tried in vain to get my home phone number from our mutual friend but she would not budge. We ended up together anyhow - it was mad, it was passionate, it was temptation (at least for me) - it was wrong but it felt so very right.
I am going to try to give a glimpse into this love through our writings - if anyone remembers the Griffin and Sabine books - it kind of felt that way at least to me. When he bacame my lover, my first gift to him were those books - I gave them to him one at a time).
This is one of the first letters he wrote me (Please note for privacy sake, in some cases I have not used the names of friends, otherwise the letters are as close as I can come - at times though, it is hard to read his small handwriting. This is going to be quite an undertaking but I am going to try to paint a picture with his words and some of mine as I answered him)
"Love,
I have been thinking lately of us and of bonds. Not the dull clanking bonds of such things as matrimony, that is a deathly bondage, and not one for us. I am thinking of the bonds of blood and spirit and fire, these are the reality - not something created by unhappy people to condone what they do to themselves. Do you understand what I am saying? Really, I don't like the use of the word "bonds" anyway - the connotations just do not seem to be right...chains, shackles, bondage, domination. I am in search of a purere destination than that, a place where the words are newer, and as yet unamed. I am in search for a future to claim a stake, start to name and locate. Are you with there with me? I want you to be.
A few years ago when the last skeins of Christianity dropped from me, when I decided that from I had learned of Christianity it wasn't for me. I amde an announcement to my family that I owuld not have a church wedding, when I met someone and decided that was what I wanted to do. At that point in my life, and even moreso now, I decided that would be going too strongly against what I believe in. Any more, I'm not sure of marriage at all. I'm sure that with the right person...anything would work - because you're with the person you belong with. You certainly ask the hard questions.
For the last few years there has been this itching in the back of my mind, a restlessness as I watched the rest of the world seemingly pair off and walk past me. Too many times I owuld find myself alone, and in tears for being alone - all because I felt that there was someone out there who would want to be with me. I became the Monster lurking in the darkness of the labyrinth, toaring an impotent rage at an unlistening universe. Do you know what it feels like to be ALone and OUtside? There was no escape for me, lke the kids who cruised around the town where I lived, I owuld circle and circle and circle, but excape velocity would be reached. Luckily for me, magic exists.
Synchonicity has pointed my feet towards Cleveland. Other than the obvious of having school friends, from out here, that is. The largest synchronicity has to be the Free-Net. It just dropped out of nowhere, a friend at school had found out about it over the Internet and after he got access he loaned me his account and told me to check it out, I might be interested. BAM. Next I had my own account, and from there I reached my tendrils out into the electronic webs of the Internet. I had found a home, and the Free_net became a sortt of home base where I could swap info and stories with others with similar interests. It was incredible being so well connected to the information age. Next, I was visiting Cleveland , off visiting *a friend* or those Netters that I had met. I had some good times, I had some bad times, some problems, but along the way I must have subconsciously decided that Cleveland would be as good a place as any to be. Next thing I was asked, and i was here. All of these things leading me towards you? I wonder.
Did you ever feel that there was someone out there for you? A cosmic twin, perfect match or whatever? You don't know how many times I've looked into faces, without realizing that what I was searching for was a spark of recognition. I have felt love before, but nothing like watching the explosions you have set off in my mind. What can I say? What can I do? You have me spellbound."
"Love,
It is the Night, and I am thinking of you, your voice, your eyes. I wish that I could give you passport into my world, into the quiet sunless realms of the night time. You don't truly understand solitude, or even deslation, until you have wandered in the night, in the dark. The night is an interzone, 4 AM knows everyone's secret, and this is as close to home as I know. Wanderers fahter at the oasises of all-night restaurants t osocialize and swap secret stories. Everything I speak of is there you just have to learn how to tune your eyesight like an ancient AM radio. Where else, except for 4am or 5am, can poets inhabit the same space as cabdrivers going off work and third-shift factory workers? This is wehre I want to dwell, here in the faerie realms bordered by cigarette smoke, and smelling of freshly brewed coffee. This is the night, the great American night, which is neither city or county, but both combined by sweat, toil and sleepless nights. This is where I was to be, this is where I want to be with you.
Do you understand what I am telling you? Not many have, bot those others have gone, faded like the dawn into grey. I am not talking aobut Vampires. Those morbid posers with their talk of death and blood do not understand the night-time, they just treat it as if it were the same world as the daylight hours. Have you ever heard a city breath? Have you ever listened, in the darkness, to a city while it dreams of what goes on within it? In the cold of the winter, the silence has a quality that you can feel, as it icily creeps through closint, flesh and blood, working its way into the marrow of your bones. So few people understand this, or want to. The Night stretches longer that anyone realizes, and it is th worst time to be alone, when you secret fears and desires bubble to the surface. I am so tired of being alone in the night.
I remember when I would walk, or drive, through the night-time watching the things and places change into my familiar patterns and associations. I dislike the day time for its harshness, there is no subtlty. (?) There is a magic to the night that others are just blind to, deadened by the majesty. Do I ramble? When I talk, thanks to the clumbsiness of my speaking, words are sometimes lost to me. I wish that I did not stammer and stumble, because there are so many things that I want to tell you, so many whispers for your ears. Do I ramble? Do I reveal too much?
I want to be with you right now. The now of 4:10 in the morning when I am writing this to you, the right now of when you are reading these words. Am I with you when you read this? I wonder if you sigh and look up from this at me. I want to be touching you, holding youu after we have made love. I want to hold you so tightly that you are inside of me, so that you are the air that I am breathing and the memories I am touching. I wish that I could feel the warmth of your skin instead of the cool touch of this paper, I owuld use my fingertips to write secrets onto your flesh. I would incrbe poetry on your belly. Just thinking about this makes me want you so much. My desire for you is a constant dull ache, soothed only by your touch and your presence. Hmmm. I wonder, what are you thinking while you read this. I wish I were los tin your eyes, in your arms, with all the troubles of everyone else millions of years and miles away.
I have known you for so long, in my dreams and my memories of these things which have yet to happen, that I am so glad to have finally found you. YOu have returned soemthing lost to me, something that I didn't even realize was gone, until you handed me the crystal heat. I imagine myself drifting off to sleep in your arms, both of us at peace. When was the last time I told you that I love you? Whne that the last time I held you or touched you? Another lifetime it seems.
Always..."
I am going to try to give a glimpse into this love through our writings - if anyone remembers the Griffin and Sabine books - it kind of felt that way at least to me. When he bacame my lover, my first gift to him were those books - I gave them to him one at a time).
This is one of the first letters he wrote me (Please note for privacy sake, in some cases I have not used the names of friends, otherwise the letters are as close as I can come - at times though, it is hard to read his small handwriting. This is going to be quite an undertaking but I am going to try to paint a picture with his words and some of mine as I answered him)
"Love,
I have been thinking lately of us and of bonds. Not the dull clanking bonds of such things as matrimony, that is a deathly bondage, and not one for us. I am thinking of the bonds of blood and spirit and fire, these are the reality - not something created by unhappy people to condone what they do to themselves. Do you understand what I am saying? Really, I don't like the use of the word "bonds" anyway - the connotations just do not seem to be right...chains, shackles, bondage, domination. I am in search of a purere destination than that, a place where the words are newer, and as yet unamed. I am in search for a future to claim a stake, start to name and locate. Are you with there with me? I want you to be.
A few years ago when the last skeins of Christianity dropped from me, when I decided that from I had learned of Christianity it wasn't for me. I amde an announcement to my family that I owuld not have a church wedding, when I met someone and decided that was what I wanted to do. At that point in my life, and even moreso now, I decided that would be going too strongly against what I believe in. Any more, I'm not sure of marriage at all. I'm sure that with the right person...anything would work - because you're with the person you belong with. You certainly ask the hard questions.
For the last few years there has been this itching in the back of my mind, a restlessness as I watched the rest of the world seemingly pair off and walk past me. Too many times I owuld find myself alone, and in tears for being alone - all because I felt that there was someone out there who would want to be with me. I became the Monster lurking in the darkness of the labyrinth, toaring an impotent rage at an unlistening universe. Do you know what it feels like to be ALone and OUtside? There was no escape for me, lke the kids who cruised around the town where I lived, I owuld circle and circle and circle, but excape velocity would be reached. Luckily for me, magic exists.
Synchonicity has pointed my feet towards Cleveland. Other than the obvious of having school friends, from out here, that is. The largest synchronicity has to be the Free-Net. It just dropped out of nowhere, a friend at school had found out about it over the Internet and after he got access he loaned me his account and told me to check it out, I might be interested. BAM. Next I had my own account, and from there I reached my tendrils out into the electronic webs of the Internet. I had found a home, and the Free_net became a sortt of home base where I could swap info and stories with others with similar interests. It was incredible being so well connected to the information age. Next, I was visiting Cleveland , off visiting *a friend* or those Netters that I had met. I had some good times, I had some bad times, some problems, but along the way I must have subconsciously decided that Cleveland would be as good a place as any to be. Next thing I was asked, and i was here. All of these things leading me towards you? I wonder.
Did you ever feel that there was someone out there for you? A cosmic twin, perfect match or whatever? You don't know how many times I've looked into faces, without realizing that what I was searching for was a spark of recognition. I have felt love before, but nothing like watching the explosions you have set off in my mind. What can I say? What can I do? You have me spellbound."
"Love,
It is the Night, and I am thinking of you, your voice, your eyes. I wish that I could give you passport into my world, into the quiet sunless realms of the night time. You don't truly understand solitude, or even deslation, until you have wandered in the night, in the dark. The night is an interzone, 4 AM knows everyone's secret, and this is as close to home as I know. Wanderers fahter at the oasises of all-night restaurants t osocialize and swap secret stories. Everything I speak of is there you just have to learn how to tune your eyesight like an ancient AM radio. Where else, except for 4am or 5am, can poets inhabit the same space as cabdrivers going off work and third-shift factory workers? This is wehre I want to dwell, here in the faerie realms bordered by cigarette smoke, and smelling of freshly brewed coffee. This is the night, the great American night, which is neither city or county, but both combined by sweat, toil and sleepless nights. This is where I was to be, this is where I want to be with you.
Do you understand what I am telling you? Not many have, bot those others have gone, faded like the dawn into grey. I am not talking aobut Vampires. Those morbid posers with their talk of death and blood do not understand the night-time, they just treat it as if it were the same world as the daylight hours. Have you ever heard a city breath? Have you ever listened, in the darkness, to a city while it dreams of what goes on within it? In the cold of the winter, the silence has a quality that you can feel, as it icily creeps through closint, flesh and blood, working its way into the marrow of your bones. So few people understand this, or want to. The Night stretches longer that anyone realizes, and it is th worst time to be alone, when you secret fears and desires bubble to the surface. I am so tired of being alone in the night.
I remember when I would walk, or drive, through the night-time watching the things and places change into my familiar patterns and associations. I dislike the day time for its harshness, there is no subtlty. (?) There is a magic to the night that others are just blind to, deadened by the majesty. Do I ramble? When I talk, thanks to the clumbsiness of my speaking, words are sometimes lost to me. I wish that I did not stammer and stumble, because there are so many things that I want to tell you, so many whispers for your ears. Do I ramble? Do I reveal too much?
I want to be with you right now. The now of 4:10 in the morning when I am writing this to you, the right now of when you are reading these words. Am I with you when you read this? I wonder if you sigh and look up from this at me. I want to be touching you, holding youu after we have made love. I want to hold you so tightly that you are inside of me, so that you are the air that I am breathing and the memories I am touching. I wish that I could feel the warmth of your skin instead of the cool touch of this paper, I owuld use my fingertips to write secrets onto your flesh. I would incrbe poetry on your belly. Just thinking about this makes me want you so much. My desire for you is a constant dull ache, soothed only by your touch and your presence. Hmmm. I wonder, what are you thinking while you read this. I wish I were los tin your eyes, in your arms, with all the troubles of everyone else millions of years and miles away.
I have known you for so long, in my dreams and my memories of these things which have yet to happen, that I am so glad to have finally found you. YOu have returned soemthing lost to me, something that I didn't even realize was gone, until you handed me the crystal heat. I imagine myself drifting off to sleep in your arms, both of us at peace. When was the last time I told you that I love you? Whne that the last time I held you or touched you? Another lifetime it seems.
Always..."
posted by Colette at 10:58 PM
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