December 2011
1 post
“I told many lies in your name. I will suffer for those, so long as I never...”
– (via approximation)
October 2011
1 post
The urge to write. The songs I listened to before...
September 2011
4 posts
“Our love of each other was like two long shadows kissing without hope of...”
– Anaïs Nin
“Real romance isn’t offered, it is undertaken and painstakingly developed.”
August 2011
9 posts
Words never die, you know. They sit on the page or...
This land is home to many things but my impertinent Spanish blood has thrown stones and pulled grasses and claimed it as mine. The angle of your body against mine, the angle of my legs around your neck, the angle of your arms as your hands grip my hips — there. Hipbones rising from a valley crowned by the arch of ribs, of breasts, beyond which, green eyes are splintered by quickened breaths —
...
“Fuck me, darling, in as many new ways as your lust will suggest.”
– James Joyce
July 2011
15 posts
The light from the surrounding buildings make up...
The water is hot. I take off my bikini and you pull me to your lap. It reminds me of another roof top, another jacuzzi, another city. Another time. You and I, points in space. Moans become stars.
My love sleeps and I sit up writing.
You’re my strength and conviction.
ME: Someone asked me recently: “In your experience, how many times a day can a man perform?”
HIM: Times? It has nothing to do with how many times. Times indicates how many orgasms a man has had. That's the wrong directive. Men need to fuck a woman to oblivion, so it's more a question of how many hours they can go. If they cum two times or four times or whatever in that process, that's up to them and their ability, but cumming is secondary.
ME: Secondary to taking a woman to oblivion?
HIM: I don't go in it to get it – I go in it to get you.
ME: You make me want to do dangerous things like wake you up with breakfast. You know why these things are dangerous? People get used to them. I don't want someone to know how to make my coffee half-asleep. Or call at a certain hour because that's what happens every day. I have no idea how to reconcile how much I want you and how much I loathe the idea of being a a habit. Or making you one.
HIM: You're not going to get used to me.
ME: How do you know?
HIM: You're going to get used to knowing me. You're going to get used to interacting with me -- you can't fight those inevitables. That's what happens when people know each other and nurture a relationship. It's the variables and the growth you need to pay attention to. It's the expansion, the exploration, the adventures. Getting used to people is just what happens when you are around those people.
ME: I don't want to be habitual.
HIM: Habitual? It's not habitual -- it's familiar. The difference between habitual and familiar is in whether you take someone for granted or cherish them. If you take someone or your relationship for granted --
ME: It dies.
HIM: This is your song. This song is the uncomfortable place where creature meets woman and even you can't tell the difference between what you want and what you think you need to be.
ME: Doesn't that scare you?
HIM: I don't need to map you to feel you.
ME: That and you love playing with explosives.
HIM: I find it fun that you and I are randomly silly with one another. Is that weird? ME: It’s not weird that you find it fun. It’s weird that we allow it to happen. HIM: Explain. ME: Silliness and any form of playing, really, is a very honest, real activities. You learn more about a person in an hour of play than a year of talking. Play and silliness foster intimacy, but they also...
“When you make me laugh, I don’t worry about wrinkles.”
– February 18, 2010.
I woke up to roses.
I never liked getting flowers. I felt it was too easy, the simple act of bestowing flowers upon a woman. Do it once, and you become a romantic hero. Do it twice, and you’re God. As a result, flowers become commonplace: birthdays and anniversaries. Every time, like a yawn at three in the morning. I didn’t want the cheap charade. Then you came, with your random acts of roses. I never...
My back muscles and thighs are so sore.
The muscle pain is a reminder of the way you pushed me against the elevator wall and lost yourself under my dress, taking my hands when the doors opened to lead me to our apartment, where you threw me on the couch and continued what you’d started, your tongue teasing, trailing every place except where I wanted you most. In a single stroke, you were inside me, my back arched, my feet...
June 2011
6 posts
2 tags
“Sex is dirty sheets.”
– Jackie Kennedy Onassis
“She realized that he had not only penetrated her body, but also her very being.”
– Delta of Venus, Anais Nin (via desirenoir)
“Sexual energy is a vortex of power like none other. At its most exalted, sex is...”
– Katherine Woodward Thomas (via quantumodes)
“Writing is like making love. Don’t worry about the orgasm, just...”
– Isabel Allende
“It was you yourself, you naughty shameless girl who first led the way. It was...”
– Joyce to Nora, 3 Dec 1909 (via theredshoes)
May 2011
12 posts
“Be helpless, dumbfounded,
unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come...”
– Rumi
1 tag
“Of all the sorrows that beset living beings, surely the most gnawing, the most...”
– Eiji Yoshikawa
“Was this the flaming lotus of which the Buddhists spoke? The ultimate heat made...”
– Eiji Yoshikawa
YOU: I can't wait to hold you. I can't wait, but I will. I will wait as long as it takes.
ME: Your words embrace me in the dark. Sleep can come now at last. The balmy wind of the tropics runs through my hair, and I imagine your fingers. It won't be much longer.
The sky continues to surprise me.
But there is a weight to how much I miss you, so that no matter how beatiful, the sky is incomplete; no matter how delectable, the food is never filling; no matter how calm, there is no true rest.
Life without you is hopelessly counterfeit. I miss you so much.
The night is devoid of meaning. Sleep doesn’t come. The heat is wet and heavy. Every breath feels like drowning. But it’s not just this place: it’s that you’re not beside me.
Hold you in my arms I just wanted to hold you in...
“(Yours. Everything I am is yours.)”
It's been seven hours and twenty six minutes since...
We’ve been apart longer than this. Much longer. But still. I miss you. I wear your clothes and pace the house. Earlier I made coffee and without thinking, asked the empty room, “love, do you want some coffee.” It took me a moment to remember why there was no answer.
April 2011
9 posts
“If I feel the night
move to disclosures or crescendos,
it’s only because I’m...”
– Li-Young Lee, The City In Which I Love You
“Give a man free hands, and you’ll know where to find them.”
– Mae West