Up at five fifteen, I poked my radio button...and heard nothing. What? It's an old "boom box" I found in the trash.
Moved the pillow away from the LED read out, blinked at fuzz. It said, blearily, it was set for FM and 89.9.
So, WHAT?
Then, I remembered: I swiped its speakers, for the turntable in the living room! OOOOH!
So, I turned on the turntable's radio. AH!
I'm thinking: the boom box in here is way too big for my crowded bedroom. And the speakers were too big, too.
So, I'll replace everything with the smaller boom box, outside in my garden. It was so quiet, I could barely hear it, anyway. And there's more room out there for a large unit.
I only need a little thing in here; I keep the volume low.
Today's The Day: Open Mic.
That poem I'm going to read: it isn't true anymore.
I've had a Shawshank Redemption. Slowly, carefully and consistantly, I've managed to dig my way out of solitary confinement.
...And I seem to be on my way to a beach in Mexico! LOL
Actually, living on a beach in Mexico is one of my fantasies.
Something goes unsaid. This woman I'm courting: there's Something she isn't telling me. I'm left guessing. I'm left to cautiously consider every thing I do.
Soon, I'll ask her. I'll just flat-out ask.
But I'm waiting. I know it's not time yet.
But there is a big, dark object between us. I can't even make out its shape or dimensions, it's so mysterious. It comes from her, but she isn't talking.
It makes it hard to see her; it's obstructing my view.
It doesn't reflect light, so I'm not looking into my own reflection, thinking it's her.
No, whatever this is, it's absorbing light so well, I can't even define its form.
I don't know if she'll ever mention it. It may be so intrinsically part of her life, she isn't aware of it.
But that seems doubtful; she isn't an unconscious person, in my experience.
So, I'm waiting.
If I get to know, I will know. If I don't get to know....
Well, I'll need to evaluate what I need to do.
Because this Something precludes true intimacy. It won't allow for love.
And those are the connections I seek -- with her, and elsewhere.
It takes a lot of space, this Something. One must watch one's step around it. It restricts mobility.
I reach around it, to connect to her. And that worries me: trying to reach someone around an obstacle increases the odds of accidentally poking her in the eye!
And I DON't want to hurt her!
So, I limit my contact, to reduce the chances of causing injury.
And wait.
I will bring it up. But it's too soon.
I'm just as stubborn as she is. And I'm truly committed, for now, to reaching her.
But if she's as stubborn, or more so, about keeping this Something between us, I'll need to let her go.
I have Somethings, too. But mine are multiple; they move around. And I'm seeking them out, as I become aware of them, and working to control, if not disolve, them. I want no artificial obstacles.
I don't know if she is working on her Something, or if she's using it for protection. She might cherish it, for all I know.
So, I'm waiting.
Well, I just heard NPR broadcast part of "Grand Canyon Suite:" the part about the sun rising over the canyon.
So, I guess it's time to dig THAT out of my record collection, and listen to it again. It was one of my mother's favorite pieces of music.
Talk about someone with a SOMETHING! But hers was completely toxic. She was fiercely defensive of it, and would try to kill anybody...me...for even mentioning it.
Mom, I can't function with you, because of this Something in the room.
There's no Something! What are you talking about? You're crazy! Leave me alone before I beat you to death!
I approach people's Somethings with caution, if at all.
It's testiment to how much this woman already means to me, that I'm even willing to try.
No comments:
Post a Comment