hamlets_foregone_courage werewolf a brooding teenager at 26, still on about his father's death. but after his last heartbreak realizes the ghost was always his mother - recounting nightly in the pale bedroom lamp the sexless comedies of her day. a glass of wine, translucent, the runoff of Jesus' side spear, what is tragedy but a sexless comedy? I sought in so many girls, my father's forgiveness, permission, and form. as i came into the build and balance between revelry and industry that was all i remember of him. i sought in them too my mother's forgiveness, troubling contradictions in the monologue i crafted from their sex. growing ever tired of winning, as my father had won, dating as he did my mother for 13 years making one last night with his other love of 15 years the night before he wed my mother. the idea of him checking out early, before his end decision and his young decisively indecision, seemed to remove forever the hopes of any parity between the two, usurper and usurped. she told me candidly once, she still has dreams where she is forsaken rather than another. whatever her part in it, i grew tired of the complicity of men in their superior station. and how i myself used the lilting conversation of women that i learned as my chief language growing up with my mom and sister - to achieve what i dimly thought my father's ends. and then you, fair and round all i had spread out amongst many girls, suddenly in one. finally a love i couldn't trick - your lack of mistake your portals of discovery. you too were addicted to amazing others, to moving about them. and here was my discovery - i had always been more pedestrian than you, than my father would admit he was. i wanted so much of what i was not allowed to - the world of my mother. and so i rose the father in me, so he would stand fullest before he fell. having murdered so many as him, i conspired his murder as well. and now when i think of you, though i long still for the banal pleasures of your body, the high drama having been exercised, i am joyful. entire comedy and entire tragedy both averted in a course of acts, averted in your bed, reconciling the still strange, now tender, bed of my parents. at last i can act. 080414 ... Molly Pedestrian comes from the Latin, pedester, which is contrasted to equester ("on horseback"). Etymology makes it funnier. 090115 ... werewolf etymology makes everything funnier 090116 ... Molly Perhaps not that. 090116 ... werewolf do you even know the etymology of everything? 090116 ... Molly Yes, and it's rather boring. Although boring isn't. 090116 ... werewolf oh i like how you said rather. rather. 090117 what's it to you? who go blather from