4 Dec 2008

Thursday, December 04, 2008

Current mood: intense
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

To everyone who's messaged me since Saturday.

Sorry but I don't get all these categories and definitions. There are people I think I understand, then it all vanishes. Maybe I'm just faking what I don't want, even the anger? I don't like the idea of switching off, but I will if you keep urging me to. How the hell do I open all these emails? I'm one person. That covers everything. Like you, I make guesses about the ultimate, about the kinds of relationships I can't muster, and about the nature of that kind of mal-attraction. No, not science, you dummies! History! Why categorise further, is all I'm saying? Put your sharpened sticks away, you cretins. Your aggression just seems underdeveloped, anti-friendship. But then, as David, Mids (47) said I'm not into relationships, apparently, so what do I know?! Dear God.

Cathy, South West

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Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Current mood: impressed
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

Julie please organise your decisions before you pass them my way. Sorry to repeat myself. But please disguise your discomfort - then go hide in the box. It's important. In my bedroom there's a delivery. That's four in a row darling. You can organise the next one! You talk another language. Agreed. But ...so? My own latest character trait is ability and I'm going to change a little more. Why be self-serving? I know too many examples as it is. A few years ago a school friend became a father for the first time. He sent pictures of his partner to me. I dislike that kind of generation, causing a scene. Julie do you remember his military comparisons? Such formulations. Sickening. At first I thought it was official, and he loved that. Errors in others. Now though I'm into something lifelong, quiet unexpectedly continuous. I get so nuclear. I driving home with all that going on. George x

11:32 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Current mood: impervious
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural


Dear Christina, I confess, sweetheart, at bottom, I've got nothing but popularism and its array of addictions and mock-discoveries. Everything is about sex with me, as you know; gender, I mean. I demarcate. You know that. All my many additions formalise a kind of pure escapism. Substitutions literally obsess me, and it's getting worse. It's not very important - or in any way a redeeming factor, and, really, I cannot put my finger on the real reasons - but all I know is I am being remotely tamed. I hear clicking in my head most days; maybe the tiny bones in my ears, working loose; but I think the sound comes from outside. I can visualise you looking slightly amused at my diagnosis. But, last night, I hooked you as you slept. I brained you an enigma; almost devouring you. You have too much intelligence, and it gives you an intoxicating, sublime, non-idiomatic equality. So I leaned over you. I know I am inebriated, and I've lost count of the gestures I've failed to action. Still, I lost my sobriety in order to convincingly forgive you. Because of that decision, the longer I spend with the commonplace - and its sudden intolerances - the more I can bare to think of one thing at a time. Nothing else makes me happy. I used to believe in making adjustments. But now I am content to hold off on those earlier schemes. Carrot, stick ... there's no difference. With love, Rachel x

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1 comment:

TICTAC said...

kudos for these lovely series, m!!