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21 September 2010
Lie to me→[More:]Pretend you are my boyfriend, lover, best friend, son, daughter, great aunt, grandma or something. Leave me a message on this post. No guarantee I will answer. Kthnksbyeeee
I know it's been months, and that by all rights you'll tear this up, or throw it in the fireplace.... I just realized I don't even know if you live in the same place anymore, or if you have a fireplace. I'm writing only to say that I know you deserve an explanation of everything - my leaving, my silence, the cruelty involved in subjecting you to them - and that I'm the one who owes you that explanation, if you'll have it.
I'm back in town, for now. If you'll allow it, I'd appreciate the chance to give you that explanation, and to apologize face-to-face.
S - I had the most amazing dream about you. I can't write it down, as I would be far too embarrassed. When I call you tonight, I'll whisper it to you, furtively, in the dark so you won't see me blushing. TH
Point taken. We've both been so overworked lately. I propose that this weekend, we take a weekend away, visit a spa, get a nice couples massage, maybe take a mineral bath (and/or mud bath) and sleep in as late as we both dare. My treat. What do you say?
Yes I did it but, the whole time I was pretending she was you. I know that you cannot forgive me yet, but I hope that with the passage of time, you will be able to.
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I'm sorry about the mustard stains on the bedposts. You know how it is, though. You think "this just needs a little spicing up", and then pretty soon there's yellow goo everywhere.
And these are my vices:
impatience, bad temper, wine,
the more than occasional cigarette,
an almost unquenchable thirst to be kissed,
a hunger that isn’t hunger
but something like fear, a staunching of dread
and a taste for bitter gossip
of those who’ve wronged me—for bitterness—
and flirting with strangers and saying sweetheart
to children whose names I don’t even know
and driving too fast and not being Buddhist
enough to let insects live in my house
or those cute little toy like mice
whose soft grey bodies in sticky traps
I carry, lifeless, out to the trash
and that I sometimes prefer the company of a book
to a human being, and humming
and living inside my head
and how as a girl I trailed a slow-hipped aunt
at twilight across the lawn
and learned to catch fireflies in my hands,
to smear their sticky, still-pulsing flickering
onto my fingers and earlobes like jewels.
--Cecilia Woloch
Saw this and thought of you. Hope you are remembering to see the beauty of just being human sometimes.
Love always,
thnx4urc...
You never replied to my offer, so I'm going by myself this weekend. I'll think of you fondly while women with muscular hands are touching my body all over.
Okay, you were right and I was wrong. There, I said it. I should have kept a more careful watch on the casserole instead of watching TV. I'm sorry, and I'll take out the trash for the next five weeks in a row to make up for the smoke damage.