I find myself in this strange floating place. It's the product of the last month. I should be doing something, or if not doing something, at least enjoying myself.
But I generally am not enjoying myself unless I'm doing something. I realized on the drive home that I have a month to correct this: to work less, or at least more efficiently somehow. To stop fucking around with this diary and churning around with four emailboxes and just do the business that needs to be done, then get out and build some memories.
Reading over recent entries, I have been doing things. Some things. Things of the sort that get paychecks and go on the resume. But more importantly, spending nights at the cabins, seeing my parents, spending time with my father. And my mother, too, though that will be more later in the summer. In the month I have left here.
I read over these entries, and I note that I have done things: planted the garden, fixed up the house, taken walks outside. I stopped at the river access two nights running now to watch the sun set over the Mississippi and the fields turn dark in the fading light, with the sky glinting in the water. But it seems that as soon as I do these things, I forget them. Something is stopping them from sticking in my head as good memories of this summer, in this place that I love best of anywhere in the world..
"Enjoy it now," said my dad. "For the rest of your life it will be a week here, and a week there."
What life have I chosen? There's nothing more I can write. That brings me to a halt. It's a choice. That's all there is to say.
D is now signing his emails with his full name, that is, his full first name. I always call him by his full name; the rest of the world calls him a short version. So it's (was's) sort of a pet name between us. And he's caught the recent cool-down in the emails. The boy is far from stupid. And he hauls out the big guns, signing his full name. HomoSup shorthand - the man is good; the man is very very good.
Remember you like me a lot? he's saying. Remember you have a pet name for me? What's going on? Why don't you talk trash at me about body stockings and stilletos and the duffelbag in your closet? Why, when I sign every email "wondering what you're wearing," don't you tell me what you're wearing like you did a week ago? Or make up something juicy, or pretend you're naked or let me wonder if you actually are? Where did you go? Remember we have a thing, some kind of thing?
Oh, yeah, baby, I remember. I hear ya. I speak that code. But you've so fucking met your match here. I'm just waiting a little longer, until I cannot stand it another second, to type my Visa number into that web detective site and see if you're really married.
Why I'm putting that off I do not know. Because I'm cheap. Or because I don't really want to know. Or maybe I was just short on DRAH-ma lately, and this fits the bill.
In other news, B and I have now agreed that he will not read my diary. That didn't take long. I shot him an email saying, "don't" and he shot one back saying "I was hesitating anyway."
I think we're both realizing the value of leaving some things unsaid to each other. There are parts of my head where he cannot look, and parts where I don't want him to look, and perhaps there is some crossover between them after all. If B and I get back together, I will know damned well that I'm compromising some things in favor of a greater whole. And so will he. And maybe not knowing -- or not having our noses rubbed any further into -- what those things are is best after all. We tortured each other enough with the itemized lists last summer, last fall.
But he won't read it, not if he says he won't. I would literally bet my life on it. That's B. That's who he is. And that's why I'd compromise. That's a thing for which I'd compromise. Now. Maybe not before. But now? Yes.
I didn't realize what an ugly world it was until I got out into it a little. And now I'd like to build a subsection of it that's safe. I could do that with B. I could perhaps do it with someone else, too, but why not B? That's what B and I have always had. I know he feels the same way. There's one person in the world who's always on my side, and I am on his. That never did change. We hurt each other as much as two people could, but we never lied. Never lied.
23:36:49 - 07-12-00
Recent entries:
Sealy Writes - 04-04-18
Rewind to "Everything's Fine" - 12-25-17
What We Have So Far - 12-25-17
Lightning Crashes - 2017-12-24
Long Years in a Short Time - 09-11-13
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