ce_qui_me_manque floralieca Pas mal tout, mon lieu d'asile, les films sur le divan, la douche, surtout surtout, la simplicité du début, les fous rire à 5 heures du matin. Dommage que tout soit devenu si compliqué. Si ça revient, ce ne sera pas moi qui aurai fait quoi que ce soit, je suis tannée d'expliquer ma vision des choses. Merci d'avoir remonté mon estime de moi. Si jamais tu changes d'idée, qui sait le train sera peut-être encore là mais il a quitté la gare, tu n'as plus rien à craindre de moi. Voilà, ce n'est pas un e-mail, je tiens ma promesse ! Les chances que tu tombes là-dessus sont bien minces, je ne sais même pas si tu te rappelles de ce site ! 040304 ... oldephebe Yeah.. i miss those marathon walks and talks in the pre-dawn light of rose and ash, talking the moon across the sky, telling everything in us to the other..never getting tired of it..we built these small fires during those times..small hopeful defiant fires, even though there was something set awry in the sky...silver gems blinking on a velvet canvas...stark ebony..the two apart and singularly pretty much pedestrian but when joined became such a power..the night with her i miss it..and how our romantic rhapsodies under that shimmering canvas seemed to blunt us against the vituperations and harsh judgements of her bigoted fathers patriarchal sense of honor..i miss that feeling of being whole in her eyes, presence..miscegenation and moral fury and self serving delusions..all of that evaporated when we inhabited one another in the eye of night and built our fairy tale kingdoms...i miss not being so cynical and jaded and worn..O sweet mists of myth and delusion, is there some fallacy i can impose upon these memories..can they be excised? for these memories they cry out, and i can't fold them away, when they writhe out of their tomb and howl, she's left her face in the mirror, she's left her face in the mirror! you see..and i would like to part from these phantoms..shake the sand from my soul, from my feet..send some Angel to saturate my spirit with a self-abnegating celestial shimmer..so that all i will know is the face of heaven, all that i hear will be seraphic hymms...and all the years repose in me.. i guess i miss sitting under the sprawling, sorrowful shadow of a huge weeping willow tree on a redwood picnic table in July and drawing for hours...i guess it was my stand in muse before Mr. C took a hold a that loose thread and unwound all of this music that has sometimes singularly borne my soul aloft on something akin to hope i guess ... yeah. God, is everything i write..does it have to be so elegaic? i mean you know mourning a life..while i'm still animating this bag of flesh...blech 040305 ... floralieca LOL, might only be the late hours. 040305 ... sameolme I don't know,I haven't read that much of your stuff. But I appreciate what I've read so far. Your writing is richly complex in a way that forces me to slow down as I read it. That slowing down, in and of itself, is a healing experience for me. Thanks 040306 ... phantom ego stroke was that to oldephebe or floralierca? 040306 ... oops! *floralieca 040306 ... sameolme oldpheobe 040306 ... sameolme oops no o 040306 ... sameolme oopsx2 040306 ... oldephebe O. OK thanx. 040306 what's it to you? who go blather from