Monday, October 23, 2006

of a falling

of a falling

i had this start to a novel in my head. this isn't it. it was better than this. i can't seem to remember it now. it had to do with you. i should have written it down then but i thought i would remember it. i think it started with a conversation. not this one. this isn't really a conversation anyway, this is more of an explanation. if only i could remember how it started, then you would be interested in the rest of what i had to say here. but now, there is only this start, which isn't really a start but a rather anti-start, if such a thing could be. maybe it wasn't going to be a novel anyway. no, that is a nasty thing to say. it was going to be a novel for certain. the crazy thing is i can't even remember what it was about. the start, the conversation, anything. i only remember thinking that it was a good start. yes, a lovely start to a novel. much better than this one anyway. much better by far.


could it be that i've been alone for so long that it no longer impacts me the way it did a few years ago? could it be that i just don't mind anymore? could such a thing be real?

i talked to my ex wife the other day. she said some guy has moved in. some guy, i don't remember his name. i said i haven't had sex in over a year.

"that's a shame" she said, "that's a good dick going to waste."


i've been looking for a good taco salad. every weekend i go out looking for a good taco salad. i never find a really good one but i have found a decent one. i was there last weekend, or really two weekends ago, and i noticed this hostess girl. she looked like you. i think she was shorter though. she didn't have big tits but she had a great looking ass. she must have noticed me looking at her. when i wasn't looking she came over to talk to me and asked me about the book i was reading.

it startled me. i can't remember what i said.

"i'm impressed" she said.

i shrugged. maybe i sighed. i could've done both. i'm sure i gave a small smile. i didn't know what to do. she said something else, but i can't remember what it was.


so, i was at a bar in salt lake city. it was dead. just me and the bar tender. i was drinking captain and ginger. i had six of them. and scotch on the rocks. dewars i think. it wasn't as good as the other scotch i had but still, i think i'm beginning to get a taste for it.

a lady walked in. she was like, i don't know seventy. we chatted up. she is a nurse but also with a phd in art history. we talked art. i like talking about art. and literature. she told me about great painters and sculptures and i told her about milan kundera and honoré de balzac.

"you are a very charming man." she said

"i just read alot."


same bar, different night. two ladies from colorado were in town. mother and a daughter. the daughter was like forty five or so. they were selling diet pills or something. i have no idea. i said i have a fine enough diet and i don't need any pills. unless the pills taste like a good taco salad.

they said it didn't.

we talked politics and religion. paul the apostle. the requirements of a citizen. the nature of being human. time for another captain and ginger.

"you are very smart and worldly" the mother said.

i laughed at that. "that's the wine talking. we're all brilliant with a little alcohol."


i walked the streets of salt lake one night. i ended up in some alley way in some mexican place. i should have ordered the taco salad but i had mole instead. it was good. i haven't had mole in years.

i think the hostess was checking me out.

then, i was thinking that maybe i am just insane. why would another hostess check me out? and did the first one? maybe she was just interested in my book. maybe this one is just friendly.


i took a walk after leaving the mexican place. i ended up in a cafe. i talked to the girl behind the bar. barista? whatever. she is an english major. dark hair and a skull necklace. it didn't look scary, it looked almost comical. i asked her if it was mexican. it looked mexican. those who know what i'm talking about will understand. those that don't, i don't know what to tell you. look for some mexican art. look at the skulls.

anyway, we chatted for sometime. it was a slow night. it seems salt lake is always slow. odd town.


somebody, i don't know who, text messages me from new mexico. or rather a phone number from new mexico. we text each other sporadically. i wonder who it is, but then again, i am not that concerned to know.

what does that mean? i have no idea.

i remember though having a dream, i think, or maybe a long ago memory, i can't tell which, about somebody out west and hiking and things like that. i think that was somebody else. maybe years ago. or maybe i just imagined having that dream. it is hard to tell nowadays.

i can't remember real conversations or the made up ones. or more importantly which is which. is this some symptom of being alone? maybe i'm just tired.


i am tired.


i saw a woman today. i swear she reminded me of you. her lips. i wanted to touch them. i wanted to feel them just barely touch my face. i wanted to have my teeth just brush against them. i wanted to feel her breathing. her mouth to open just so slightly. the space between us so small and so heavy with anticipation. to let that linger. and linger. so many rush in for the kiss. so brisk and over so quickly. is there another moment like before the first kiss? i thought of this while she spoke about technology and sales and whatnot. i have no idea what she said really. i watched her and she moved her tongue for a moment to the corner of her mouth as if something was left there for her to retrieve. maybe my cum? i wanted to bite her lips.

can she tell how i look at her? a moment of panic hit me. i looked away. i thought of other things. what would she think of me? sick bastard. he is thinking of biting my lips and my neck and my mouth.

yes, i was thinking of such things.

she had a nice smile.


strangely, it made me miss you more and not less. is that not odd? i thought it was. i hear some people would rather be with somebody else, or anybody, or whomever they could.

is it odd that if i can't be with you i'd rather be alone? and somebody may roll their eyes. somebody may sigh. no, this is nonsense, you say. yes, maybe you are right. i have been alone for this long because of a cosmic accident. you are right.

i am foolish.


it is not that i do not desire. it is not that i do not dream. it is not that i do not pretend. it is that i do not compromise.

it is you or it is nothing. maybe i am wrong. maybe having somebody in my bed is better than nobody. maybe watching the rain with anyone is better than watching it alone. maybe having somebody to make coffee for is better than making just enough for one. i don't know.

i think about these things too.

it seems like it is a long dark road. but i am not scared or nervous or even concerned. i just keep going.

and maybe, that is the worst of it?


what do i think about at night? how do i sleep?

i think about a future. maybe you are there. and sometimes i swear i can smell your hair. is this crushingly stupid? i lay in my bed with my eyes closed and my fingertips just glide over my chest and stomach. i imagine maybe you would touch me in this way. maybe i would hear you breathing next to me. maybe my hand play on your leg. just to feel your flesh, your skin, your being. would this not be some version of a heaven? i think of this and eventually fall asleep.

i sleep with the fan on, facing the wall in my closet. i just need the noise.

it didn't use to be this way.


it is the numbness. this death of emotion that concerns me and yet, does not bother me. can imagination alone sustain me?

only your vision to comfort me? only your imagined voice? imagined touch? imagined concern? caring?

sometimes a woman will walk by and i can smell her fragrance. i try to breathe deeply and store it memory. how many men take such a thing for granted? and how many are like me?

to have a look to steal at a store. a moment of silence followed by laughter. a quietness filled with emotion. the lightness of a push and the heaviness of a whisper. where are these things?

where am i?


my fingers trace the outside of my ear while i read a book at a mexican restaurant. the waitress looks at me. does she think i'm strange? does the way my hand move over my eyebrow, down my cheek, and across my lips, so slowly, so lightly, give some signal of strangeness? maybe the way i lean into my book or maybe the way how i sometimes stare into the distance. thinking about the book, or you, the future, the past, or anything but now. maybe this is all some clue to her to look at me the way she does. with some sort of mixture of curiosity and distance.


i walked into a meeting late yesterday. my director was there. as was my cio. and another cio from another company. and some other people. maybe twelve or so. i was the last to arrive. my director is a woman. she seemed happy that i had arrived, she announced my name to everyone. i nodded, half smiled, walked to my chair.

"j always seems to make his presence known. he is an interesting guy" my director said as i walked to my chair "he has an air of mystery and charisma."

i made no comment nor acknowledgement to that statement. but i did find it quite odd. she then began to relay some story about me at a company party and how some women over in the "business" (as opposed to us, in IT) thought i was quite handsome.


maybe five weeks ago i walked by the help desk and talked to somebody over there. i then returned to my normal work day which does not include interaction with the help desk. a few hours later somebody who i work with came up to me...

"what happened to you at the help desk?"

"nothing happened to me. i went over to talk to raj about the Vsource acquisition."

"oh, well, apparently some people wanted to know who you were."


"they thought you were sexy." he said laughing.


"no seriously. i was asked if i knew you and if you were single."

"what did you say?"

"i said you don't date people at work."

"oh, well it is good to see you actually do listen to me."

"yeah, in between all the crazy shit and the other work crap you sometimes say things i can understand."

"well, i wouldn't want you to get too comfortable or think i was starting to lose my edge."

"i can't tell if you are sharp or just crazy."

"it suits me better that way."


i need to get something to eat. i'm hungry. i have samuel beckett in my car. malloy. i should go read and eat. or maybe i should just go home. but, i still need to eat. i don't have any food at home. and i'm too hungry to go shopping.

this is my life. beyond stupid. absurd really.


do you ever wished it rained? just so you can stand in it?

i want to do something that does not require me to think. i want to forget. i want to forget all this numbness.

i remember what it was like. when i first thought of you. i used to imagine that you thought of me then too. and we would conspire to meet and talk until midnight. i would tell you i would blinfold you and feed you ice cream and undress you slowly. or i would imagine telling you such things. and you liked them. yes...

"what else" you'd say

i'd kiss your lips while you were blindfolded. put an empty spoon in your mouth. and you would laugh. and say it wasn't fair. i'd give you more ice cream. unbutton your jeans. bite your neck. unzip my pants. feed you another spoon of ice cream. i'd tell you to open your mouth. would you know where my cock is? would you know it is hard? open your mouth i'd say. another spoon of ice cream and you'd laugh. and i'd laugh. i'd kiss you again. pull off your pants. bite your hips.

"yes...tell me more." you'd plead.

put out your tongue i'd say. you'd feel the metal of the spoon and then the flesh of my cock. a shock of excitement would go through my body. and yours? and i'd pick you up and pin you against the wall. i'm ravenous and seeking to devour you and become consumed by you.


these thoughts are still with me but now with so much silence.

so much silence.

i can't remember what i dreamed and what was real. and maybe in the end it doesn't matter.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

insignificant but desirable

the past.
there beneath the may-trees on warmest of evenings reading on past and disregarded events. moss and its shiny dampness by the dark river and tree roots twisted on worn away banks. the dark soil. black stones taken as forest patches. the day’s wisdom begins to fade into scales of gray pink.

leave now.
I shall go forth alone.

I whispered.
NB. may also be read here
as idiot.deProfundis blog has been deleted.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Balgay Hill

Balgay Hill was dark and damp
the trees stood still
they knew that they were trees
no magic forest

the bridge looked frail
as though the heavy gravestone
hung up front
weighed heavy on its mind

Mills Observatory observed
the dead who passed our car
they checked our eyes for signs
that we might stay

White Lady never crossed the bridge
she crossed the track with stealth
the stairs were stairs to no mans land
but the city lights were stars

S.Kennedy. 08/06