Saturday, March 16, 2013

Antici --

You know that little drop your stomach does when you're in a fast moving car over a deep dip in the road?  How the internal vertigo is a little bit ticklish and a little bit seasick?

It's like that.

You know when you're singing in your car at the top of your lungs and that part is coming up and you're ready for it?  3...2...1....And you nail that high note and wish someone had witnessed it?  How goosebumps stand up all over your flesh?

It's like that.

You know when you're exhausted after a long day and you're walking to your bedroom with full intentions of going to sleep?  But you lie down, get comfortable, and that little devil on your shoulder begins to send fire licking down your body until you know you will not be able to sleep until you rub one out?

It's like that.

You know when you finish the first book in a seven-book series and you're left with breathless exhilaration or poignant pondering because it was just so good?  And knowing there are six more delicious rich unpredictable tapestries of adventure with these interesting dynamic characters just waiting for you to dive in and devour?

It's like that.

You know when you're doing the activity you are most skilled in and you perform a specific part of that activity with such expertise and precision that you know only comes from your long-term investment in the cultivation of this skill in your life?  When you actually impress yourself with how well that just turned out?  Where you feel like a momentary master of your craft and wonder if Einstein felt this kind of fleeting genius moment for the whole of his life?

It's like that.

You know when you're lying in the dark dimness next to a soul you're almost certain is the Universe apologizing for treating you like crap in your formative years?  When songs with meaning to the both of you are slowly slipping out of a tiny speaker with no bass somewhere reeeeaaaallly far away?  And you're exchanging breath and energy in a wonderful tangle of slow motions conveying sweetness and lust.  An unexpected whisper carries on the dark and before it can be stopped, the message lands softly on an ear that has been craning to hear this whisper in the white noise for a very long time.

Your heart stops.
Your breath stops.
The air waits.
He waits.
You wait.

What are you going to say?

Come on, princess.  

Disney's been running these drills with you your entire life.  Romantic comedies and trashy novels offered visual aids and training materials.  Porn provided step by step instructions to you.  First kisses, proms, weddings, babies, dating, sex, co-habitation, traveling on buddy fare, conjoined maturation, side-by-side tombstones.  You have a shoe collection that meets the modern standard for a woman of your age.  You know the difference between concealer, foundation, and primer.  You can identify decolletage and perfume it correctly.  You know when to wiggle, when to touch your hair, when to look away, when to hook/line/sinker.

Except you're 31 goddamned years old and Disney ain't shit.

When you get to this point where a string of words has manifested for consideration, it's always about looking into the Abyss (a subject Disney notably omitted from my education).  Potentialities and experiences multiplied by a childhood factor and divided by your current obligations and obstacles.  A sweetness softly floating in the blue sky when the sun shines too sharply as it dies each day.  It slipped into my mind and it follows me like a patient ghost.  The Abyss contains all that I am and is all possible worlds.  

When the Abyss looks into you, what does it see?

All my broken hearts have healed.  I am strong and vibrant and industrious.  I work hard and I love harder.  I am as authentically me as I have ever been and growing more so by the day.  I've built a little homestead and I am having an eternal love affair with the soul in my son's heart.  I'm finally experiencing the happiness I have been carving out of obsidian with my bare hands.  (Henry Rollins, eat your heart out.)

Look at this rare and powerful jewel I made.  My precious.  So valuable to me.  

But that also means I have something to lose.  Something to protect as if I'm a dragon.  Something to cultivate and nurture and grow and improve.  Something to share.  

I only share with one at a time and it's an investment of time and emotion; neither of which I do half-assed.  Such a decision isn't taken lightly, especially when it fits like a glove.  I'm suspicious of anything this good.  Something must be amiss.  

Now, wait.



Let the tension build.  Play this game with me.  I assure you there are two in this boat.  But there is so much more enjoyment to be had while we row.

Let me bring it up next.  You won't be sorry.