"MOMENTS LOST IN TIME, LIKE TEARS IN RAIN"

The title of this post is from the movie "Blade Runner", and has always struck me as an almost perfect summary of what we all will have to come to grips with at some point, at least if we have a hint of introspection in our nature.

I am feeling worse every day, and each day requires more and more physical effort to get through. I have grown appallingly weak, and the simplest activities drain me to the point of exhaustion. I am kind of fascinated by the changes I have been going through, and actually accept what is happening most of the time with a weirdly morbid humor that very few people would understand. But lately this has been tempered by the fact that I have started to account for what impact I have actually had on the world around me, and have also started to realize that there are so many things that I have missed, and will miss out on. I have also recently been given a glimpse of a path that I will never be able to fully explore, and it makes me a bit melancholy when I think about the things that could have been.

But what makes everything even more bittersweet is the  knowledge that I have been given so many memorable moments by a woman who can never fully understand the impact she has had on me, and it bothers me that when I do exit stage left, that all of those moments may be lost in time, like tears in rain.

There are so many:

Listening to her speak to her children, not only like a mother, but as a nurturing, caring person engaging with another unique individual.

Watching her walk away from me with her shoulders slightly raised at the edges, the perfect vee of her torso ending in the impossibly perfect curvature of her hips and ass.

The way she touches me and holds me when I am in incredible pain, never saying or doing anything at these times that make me feel more self-conscious than I already feel.

The liquid beauty of her eyes, which haunt me always. They contain such depth and humanity and convey lust, sadness, warmth, laughter, and every possible emotion swims within them depending upon her mood, and I could lose myself in them for hours.

The soft, delicate, ethereal form she takes on when sleeping: it is like she has been transported from some mysterious renaissance painting and dropped into my bed, taking on a stillness and beauty that takes my breath away.

The golden hue of her skin- so perfectly smooth and soft that no silk could ever match it.

The fact that every conversation with her has meaning- she can excite me on an intellectual level as much as she does sexually and emotionally, and everytime I speak with her I feel an electricity that is normally reserved for matters of the flesh.

There are so many more. I don't think there has been a single moment since I became involved with her that was meaningless or without value, and that is because she has a value that cannot be measured. She makes me a better person in so many ways, and she thrills me on so many levels that I can't begin to fathom how she does it. And it bothers me that these could just end up being fleeting moments that will be lost and forgotten with time, when each one should be carved as a monument to what can and should be between people who are in love.

I like to think that I am above such things, but the reality is that I all too easily succumb to anger and self pity at times and rage against the fact that I am denied the one thing that has brought me a measure of solace and peace, and that I have to settle for less than I want. But that is also the most valuable thing she has given me: the capacity to feel the rage and anger that bubbles up at times means that I have finally found someone who touches me in a way that makes me believe that I too have value and worth. And if I have the capacity to love and be loved by someone who is so much better than I on so many levels than maybe everything I am going through is worthwhile.

All of these moments, each and every one of the emotions she inspires, they deserve to last far longer than I do. Each one of them needs to be waterproofed and defiant in the face of the strongest rainstorm, and the tears can be lost in the rain, but never the memory of what caused them.

God I hope I am causing her more good than harm.

BACK IN KANSAS, BUT NOT BY CHOICE

Dorothy was swept up in the whirlwind, leaving behind a life of gray desperation, deposited into a world of color and mystery and adventure, and at the end of the day chose to return to her black and white world in Kansas populated by the likes of Auntie Em.

What a stupid cunt.

I too was swept up in the whirlwind, dropped into the land of Oz, and allowed to spend just enough time there to realize how dark and lonely and fucked up my world actually was. And just when I started to delude myself into thinking that I could maybe make myself at home there in the Land of Oz, the fucking whirlwind shows up again, plopping my sorry ass back in Kansas.

Here is the question: is it better to toil away in Kansas alone without ever being aware of the fact that Oz exists, or is there a value in knowing that Oz is out there, even if it is a place I will never be able to call my own. I don't fucking know- it is rhetorical question that I am currently unable to answer.

Here is truth: in Kansas I am alone, in pain, and dying. In Oz I am in pain and dying, but don't really care since I am traveling down the Yellow Brick Road with her. But the reality is I am going to be forced to spend more time in Kansas than Oz, and the trip back causes a pain far worse than the physical shit that keeps me up at night, and Kansas is darker and colder on each return visit.

Maybe Dorothy was able to return to Kansas because she knew that Oz existed, and that she was able to gather strength from the knowledge that there was a world out there that wasn't all dark and gray and windswept, making it easier to accept her circumstances. Even if that is the case, she was still a stupid cunt.

I sit here in Kansas, tired and alone, trying to make sense of the dull ache that is eating away at me. It is dark and lonely and cold and I have no fucking idea what to make of all the things that are swirling about in my head and heart. I sit here in Kansas, looking out the window, hoping desperately to get a glimpse of the whirlwind that will grab me and drop me back into the land of Oz, but there is nothing out there but a flat, gray landscape. Maybe this is where I belong. Maybe just knowing that there is a whirlwind somewhere out on the horizon that may be searching for me is enough. I hope and think I will feel this way in a day or two, but right now Kansas is looking pretty god damned bleak, and Oz is impossibly far away.

I sit here in Kansas, pathetically believing that I somehow deserve to visit Oz whenever the hell I feel like it, and realize that I am being a self-pitying, whiny little fool, yet still can't help myself.

Fuck Kansas.

HOWLING AT THE WATERS EDGE

The ending of Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendaks "Where The Wild Things Are" has a moment of such personal resonance for me that it actually startled me in the theater, and stays with me still a week after seeing it. Indeed, the whole movie struck me on such a personal level that I can't really guage whether or not the movie is actually any good or not, all I know is that I found so many parallels to what I am going through that the whole movie has an accumulative power that moved me in unexpected ways.

The movie contains two distinct seperate worlds, and the characters in both worlds are profoundly moved and changed by their experiences together. What makes the movie special is that both worlds are messy, this is no wish fulfillment fantasy where someone sails off to a magical palace and finds that all their dreams come true in the land of Eden, but instead it is a rather melancholy exploration of emotions and feelings, and the different ways we all have of coming to grips with ourselves and our place in the world. The movie doesn't cheat in any way, the Wild Things are just as fucked up and confused as the rest of us, but somehow Max is able to discover what he needs with them, and their world is forever changed by Max.

In my little world I don't identify with Max, but with the Wild Things. She is my Max, and she can visit me whenever she wants or needs to, but she will always have her own world to return to, and that is how it should be. I want her to find the mystery, the happiness, the warmth that she deserves whenever she feels like sailing over to my island, and I want her to take what she can back to her world to make it a better place. Her world has shadows in it, but there is also an abundance of light where she can escape them, and she has so many possibilities in front of her, so many paths that lead to a better place.

My world right now consists of a single light: her, but everything else is kind of dimming around the edges. I am not complaining about this, the fact that she has brought a light and warmth to my world is more than enough for me, but it is for this very reason that the ending of the movie struck me so deeply.

When the time comes for Max to return to his world, the Wild Things gather at the waters edge to watch him sail away, and instead of some dumb-ass dialogue or sappy music, they just stand there and howl. It is a moment so perfect, so right, that I felt like a fool sitting in a theater full of kids trying to keep tears from rolling down my face.

I know why the Wild Things howled, I feel it everytime she leaves, everytime we are apart. The feeling is so strong, so deep, and filled with sadness and joy, that no words would be able to express the emotion.

I stand at the waters edge, howling. For all that could have been, for all that will be missed, and for all that has been given to me. It is a sad, wonderous feeling that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world, because it means that I am alive and that I care. And I owe it all to her.

I hope she howls for me on occasion.

THE MOMENTS THAT MATTER

We all have them, those indescribable moments that for whatever reasons etch themselves into our memory and stay with us throughout our lives. A first kiss, the first memory of Christmas morning, a particularly memorable bout of sex, the birth of a child. Sometimes it isn't even an activity or action that burns itself into our conscious, but an image or sensation- a particular feeling triggered by something out of the ordinary that makes us pause. If we are lucky there are more of these moments that bring smiles instead of tears. We accumulate these moments over the course of a lfetime, and at the end of the day we hopefully can rummage through them and hope that they add up to something that matters.

In the past several weeks she has given me more of these moments than I have accumulated over my entire life. They are all there, not etched, but carved into my mind with a permanence and substance that makes all other moments pale in comparison. Some of these are physical: the curve of her cheekbones, the slight rise on the bridge of her nose, the mole on her throat, the delicate way her hands move, the feel of her folding into me while she sleeps, the soft gasps while we make love, the curve of her hips under the covers. All of her physicality overwhelms me, even when we are apart. I close my eyes and I can feel her surround me with pure sensuality.

And then there are the other, less tangible moments, that are equally powerful: the depth of her humanity, the sadness underneath the exterior regarding her current situation, the grace and class she exhibits under all circumstances, the way she can thrill me with just a conversation, the intelligence and warmth she exhibits to all around her, the playful smile that lights up the darkest room, the eyes that can radiate compassion one moment, and sheer sexuality the next. She out-classes me on so many levels that I am humbled before her. She has filled so many empty spaces in so many ways that I am at the same time thankful and angry; thankful because I have in no way lived a life that would allow me to be so blessed by her attention, and angry because she comes into my life at a point where I feel like I am being taunted by the knowledge that I am just going to get a glimpse of what I could have had, and then have it yanked away.

I can never repay her for all she has done for me- she has made me a better person in so many ways, and she teaches me more everyday, moment by moment. And each one of these moments I will guard and treasure with my whole being, and hope that I can provide some measure of happiness and comfort in return.

At the end of the day maybe that is all that matters, this accumulation of moments. The worlds we all create for ourselves can be dark and lonely places, but I no longer feel like I have travelled through mine alone and unvalued. Because each and every moment with her has not been singular, they have all been shared, and the power they have comes from the fact that they exist because both of us created them. Out of nothing a garden has grown that I will nurture and tend to till the day I die, even if it turns out to be only in my memories.

Every momement with her is a moment that matters. And I carry these with me everywhere, everyday, for all time.

I am fulfilled.

AN INCREDIBLY WEIRD, MORBID REQUEST-PERFECTLY IN KEEPING WITH THE HALLOWEEN SEASON

BOO!!

The following request/favor is probably in the worst possible taste, and I am sure it is completely inappropriate and ill-timed, but it is something that is important to me, and I don't want it to be taken in any other way then what it is intended, just as a simple favor that might be a little odd. There is no driving factor for it, I don't know anything more then I did yesterday, and I am not concerned that I will be rattling chains tomorrow or the next day, but none of us know how long we have and I am trying to make sure that I don't leave anything unspoken in case I get hit by a bus or attacked by rabid weasels.

Whenever my time comes I will be mourned by a handfull of people in some very specific ways. My children will mourn me as a father, my wife will mourn me as a husband, my mother will mourn me as a son, and my sister as a brother. All of them will cry a little, and all of them will miss me in some fashion. But none of them will know who or what I really was, and with time I will become one of those memories that just kind of pops up once in a while, is thought about briefly, and then set aside. None of them will ever know what I really felt or identify with me in any way other than what was specific to them. This is entirely understandable to me as I have never really presented myself to anyone as other than the specific role I thought I should play.

Until now.

There is one person who has seen all of me, good and bad, who I have held nothing back from, and with whom I have shared everything inside of me. My understanding of her nature is such that I know that no matter what our relationship turns into, or wherever it ends up, she will always have feelings for me that no one else has ever had, and those feelings are based on who I am, not what role I was playing.

So.. before the rabid weasels catch up with me: when I go there will be no gravestone, no service, none of the usual trappings, just a furnace and then ashes to be scattered. What I do want is a different kind of memorial, one tended to by her and her alone.

Once the weasels have had their way with me, I want her to go pick out a single long-stemmed crimson rose, dry it and press it, and then attach a note to it that reads: "As Promised, L". Then I want her to put it away. And once a year, on whatever date has significance to her, I want her to pull it out and think of me, and of the time her and I shared together. A tear or two is fine, but most of the time should be spent reflecting on what a joyous, wonderful world this is where two people could find each other, and mean so much to each other, and share themselves so completely and openly, and make a difference in each others lives.

She wouldn't want me returning as an angry, pissed off, fire and brimstone type of phantom, but the simple knowledge that she would do this for me, and that I would know that I made enough of a difference in her life that she would think of me when I am gone, makes a huge difference to me, and gives me the strangest kind of comfort.

Ahhh.. Halloween. It brings out the morbid in me, I know. While I know my little request is completely irrational and bizarre, it has significance to me.

I will be keeping the weasels at bay for as long as possible, until then... happy hauntings.

A PROMISE MADE, AND A FAVOR ASKED

October 2nd, 2010.

On that day the following promise will be fulfilled: I will go with her, wherever and whenever she wants, and I will devote myself to ensuring that she finds the happiness that she deserves. I will do this in any capacity she desires, without question or hesitation, and it will mean as much to me as it hopefully will to her.

I know that much can happen between now and then. There is the possiblility that I am not around, the very real chance that the power of her feelings for me will change or diminish, that she could find someone or something else that manages to fulfill her in ways that I can't, or that her situation actually changes in ways that she has been hoping for. But maybe all of those things are also part of the point as well. As much as she means to me and as much as I feel the warmth of her feelings, It may turn out that I am not the one to complete her. She completes me in every way imagineable, but on balance what I can provide may not be as much as she actually deserves.

So.. that is the promise, and also the foundation for the favor. I am here for her to fulfill her in any way I can for as long as I can, but if the moment ever comes when that isn't enough, or if the circumstances dictate a change in the nature of our relationship, then she needs to let me know immediately. The only way she can hurt me is by behaving in ways that are counter to her character, and if she were to ever hide anything from me just for the sake of sparing me, it would kill me. She has invited me into her world, and allowed me to experience emotions and sensations that I didn't even know I had, and I will take those with me no matter what happens, and be better for it. Ultimately my eternal happiness will rest with knowing that she has found her happiness in her world, whether I have a large or small place in it is irrelevant, as long as I have some part that she will share with me.

This is the promise, and this is the favor. She deserves everything, and I will give her what I can. And no matter what road she ends up taking, I will be there- smiling, knowing that she has found what she needed, and that I helped in some way.

How could it be any other way?

THE BALANCE THAT SHE BRINGS

Tonight and last night, and the day that fell between, have to register as the worst 36 hours I have ever experienced, yet for some reason I sit here feeling strangely elated and content. I am shivering, tired, and ache from head to toe, and yet I find myself feeling about as satisfied as a person could possibly be.

Tonight and last night, and the day that fell between can only be inelegantly described as a shit sandwich that I was force-fed slowly (nice,huh?). I have had to put up with shit from people I wold normally steamroll over, I suffered 20 questions from someone I hadn't seen in a while interrogating me about how awful I looked in a roomful of people I can't stand, and I think I have probably been given a preview of what I have to look forward to in terms of what I will have to deal with as I start the shut-down process.

And yet I am here, smiling wearily, and I am not afraid of what today will bring.

The scales have been out of balance for too long, and I didn't even notice. On the one side there is stacked all the things we all have to deal with: regrets, fears, losses, anger- all the things that make each of our lives messy and which we spend far too much time obsessing on and which weigh heavily on all of us.

And on the other side of the scales there is her, and the balance is restored.

In a strange way now I don't really care how much shit piles up on the "bad" side of the scales, because each and every thing that piles up there only makes me appreciate the weight of her more deeply, and I know that there is nothing that can be piled on that she can't balance out for me.

There is so much more that I wanted to say here- but I have finally gotten to the point where I think I can actually sleep for an hour or two, and I need to take it whenever I can.

To be continued....