Eating brie, listening to a hand-picked itunes playlist, feeling vaguely melancholic, and marvelling at the existence of local 'holidays' to celebrate queerness. Suddenly missing my favorite mentoring ex dyke-couple (I miss them, both as individuals and as a couple, at least once a week) and feeling-- grateful is not a strong enough word-- for well-written encapsulating fiction.
It's a day whereon I feel there are an overwhelming amount of amazing things in the world, but that most of them are just out of my reach. There are celebrations, events, and wonderful gatherings-- yet even when I am within them, I am not a part of them. Last night, drunk on malibu rum, I announced with clarity that the distancing effect of drinking makes damn good sense. For some, I imagine that it's being a part of something that frightens them. For others, perhaps the drinking simply makes the perpetual sense of un-belonging when sober seem less painful for a little while. These are far from profound observations, of course.
There is no point to my writing other than self-indulgence and procrastination. And perhaps I would like someone else to witness this inner indescribable nostalgic aching, not that it would help any. It's a day for making love and listening to emoting music, not for the practical chores of shaving my legs, washing the dishes, and going to the grocery store.
I look at Adam (the cat) with intense envy.
09:58 - Sunday, Jun. 10, 2007
Recent entries:
- - Monday, Dec. 31, 2007
The Moments to Live For - Saturday, Dec. 15, 2007
message of Christmas Peace - Friday, Dec. 07, 2007
just a bunch of breast tissue - Wednesday, Dec. 05, 2007
a poetry reading - Friday, Nov. 30, 2007
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others: