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B is For Valentine pt 01

When my friend said to me, women don’t want love [these days] I thought he was being his usual self. For though he was exceedingly bright I oft wondered what planet he lived on that seemed to spring these ideas [now I know that it is I who live –and love – from a different planet].

I think I wanted to prove him wrong, to show that his logic was flawed… tarnished by witches from his own past. You see my theory is, that most women don’t want “love” because they’ve never really experienced it. What they HAVE EXPERIENCED is a flurry of enraged male hormones that flocked together in pursuit of getting inside their beds instead of their heads. Having had this experience [not to mention the three carry-ons they bring into EVERY… NEW… RELATIONSHIP] it was easy to see why women didn’t believe they wanted love.

Now I stop to say this. I myself am a bastard. I bore easily. I know what I want [or so I thought] and when I don’t see that or… realize that they may be too daft to NOT see that… I go back to my writing. It makes more sense.

I believe in the goddess principle. Not in a strictly religious concept but I often times like to see women for the elevated beings they are. I don’t know why or how this whole thing came to be but when I say “she touches like a god” I know EXACTLY what I mean… she is meant to be honored. Incidentally, from a strictly Theist perspective, this probably contradicts the whole first commandment pc [“thou shalt have no other gods before me”] but I could top that by going back to Proverbs 31 which talks about praising this “good woman” – but anyways…

I had all but given up on the whole concept of love and all that baloney because:
A. I am way to emotional… I listen to Bjork
B. It occurred to me that the act of acquiring wealth made me feel more warm and fuzzy that any of these girls-who-don’t-understand
-their-“god-hood” could ever do

And then last year something strange happened. Two… three girls walked into my life that reflected a kind of bright spark that I just lapped up. Two of them had boyfriends, one of them was a Christian and the other was a poet which means she lives by her own spirituality.


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B is for The Haunting October

--> I first felt it in the shower. Nostalgia. Creeping up my leg and resting on my shoulder. Bony fingers caresses in that sickeningly sweet way nostalgia often does. It was the end of September or the beginning of October... That night in the shower when I remembered an old October, reading poetry at a wine factory; with sandwiches as big as your face. And I remembered two tables. Friends and a girl. And it was October. The sealing of fate. 2008.
Days passed but not before the memory of darkness and a knife. The surgery that changed me... And it was October. October or go to Heaven. 2007.
Time passed and so did my expectations. Fluctuations in blood flow in the head causes heart to flutter for another. Infatuation of the highest order. The beginning of tears and sighs of"it's not fair" and the wandering nature of soul; I'm done, turn me over. And it was October. All my queries I vowed to shelve. 2012.
And Sunday. When I threw the scroll and claimed I was don…