love isn't lying

[click picture]

...it's loose in a lady....

Took my first thyroid pill this morning and the lights came right on. There's still nobody home, and this might all be hope, but, goddam, man, the lights came on. Got a little bump from the vitamins and stuff a couple weeks ago, but it was still paltry, not enough. The lights came on. I'm still weak as hell and pretty much of a fuzzhead, but... the lights are on. Maybe in a little while I can start dusting the furniture and using the house again. Concept.

Traveling back to people I've loved so long is probably way too esoteric a deal to explain cogently enough so that it tracks, but I really do doubt that many experience this stuff too much like I do. I'd picked up a dumb romance novel at my mother's house because there was nothing else besides libraries full of thoroughbred magazines and stud books to read. My sister must have left it behind. At least there had been an attempt at some historical relevance in this one... so I kept reading on to the end. There was one line in it that made the tedious exercise all worth it and stuff. The gorgeous young female luck magnet protagonist was told by her editor to be careful who she loved because "the fuckers become a part of you for the rest of your life." I haven't ever stopped loving anybody in my whole life.

A couple times I've been so thoroughly disappointed in them that it doesn't matter to me how much I love them, they're pau, but mostly living is a very long process of living without people away from whom it is literally impossible to be. So when you get to actually lay eyes on them again it hurts so much you don't know how to turn off, or even down, the tears or geysers of enlightening being shooting from your pores for them.

I'm in Scott's house this very now, and still, when a certain song comes on the stereo it is so Scott that it wrings tears and he is standing in the corner of my vision, even though he's "really" upstairs or out in the yard or off grabbing another present for someone. My beautiful friend lafin gas emailed me the other day about Stephen's news and he has been stuck in my aura with me ever since. All my organs are fighting his cancer, and my cells are screaming for it not to be the fast kind. Fuckers like Giuliani get it and keep right on ruining everyone's lives as though nothing whatever had gone wrong, and that goddam better be the kind my dream man has. I know he won't die even if all the universes blow up fifty more times, but I can't do without him. I finally got to the bottom of exactly who it was who wrote the songs that might as well be transcriptions of my DNA and he doesn't now ever get to be anything but the living embodiment of my good will... not if I can help it anyway.

Last night Scott and I watched Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris on HD Austin City Limits and it was so peaceful and beautiful it gave me goosebumps... that just stayed the whole time they were playing. Not one off note. Not one harsh or skipped breath. Perfectly peacefully pretty with no seams. Knopfler even harmonized as well as anybody in Crosby, Stills and Nash. Amazing stuff. Never stopped growing. But I also am parked at Stephen Stills dot com right now, listening to the recording from forty years ago that was the herald of the coming band and this virtuosity that grows is also fully formed in the beginning. There actually is no beginning... and no end. The ten times intersect in being, and you've wasted your whole life if you don't know it.

If you've ever been able to stop loving anyone or anything, you didn't love to begin with.

And you can live to put faces on loves that already exist. You can meet people you have loved since before you were born, and if you can't catch the hem of my meaning, here, I am very sorry for you.

I'm going to find myself some food and maybe I'll be back in a little while to vex you some more....

... Well, after I go out and get a little present for my bratty little birthday girl niece... if I can bear to turn off this music for long enough, that is.... :-P