06.27.04

Having a horrible time trying to goad myself into doing my biology stuff. Let's see, our first test is tomorrow morning, on three chapters. Not so bad; I can put a hurt on some reading. Then there's some observation journaling. From what I understand, it's an hour or so of checking out a particular area. Okay. Then there's the pre-lab work for tomorrow afternoon's lab class.

Oy.

Am feeling rather burnt-out by all of this, but will continue to plug on.

Went to an art showing last evening in the trendy 23rd Ave. area of P-land last evening. The artist had some interesting pieces, but they were neither shocking nor original. They were technically good, but the artist has yet to find his vision. This is, of course, what every artist goes through. The ones that succeed slog through the development stages and come out with their own voice/vision/victory.

La. Listen to me, nascent art critic. Then again, I've looked at a lot of art, have an interested layman's knowledge, and some inkling of art through history. So my opinion is not completely uninformed. I just don't have the bajillion letters and pieces of paper after my name that other, more solidly-funded people have.

I walked out of chez nous this morning to get the newspaper. The sky was brilliant blue, with perfect, fluffy clouds.

I just double-checked, it really is gorgeous. I suppose that's part of my inability to get homework done. *laugh* The air is so clear that everything far away looks as if it's right next door. The neighbourhood is quiet, no lawn mowers, noisy motorcycles or children screaming. The low buzz of an airplane in the distance reminds my of the wider world.

I am thinking about what the future will bring, and hoping that what I want will come to pass.

Here's the deal, I'm moving back to Los Angeles. What?! That town that royally kicked your heinie? That hard, hard town, filled with leeches and vampires? Yep. That town. Why?

Because the man I love lives there. But didn't you just...? Yes, yes I did. I think that's what got us talking again. Go figure. We're both rather freaked out and nervous about this development--and that's okay.

I keep on thinking of the ending scenes from Moonstruck when Olympia Dukakis' character asks Cher's character if she loves Nicholas Cage's character. Cher replies that she loves him awful and Olympia says that's too bad. I laugh, but that't what it's like.

It's a "just is" thing, like he's my very best friend with the unexpected (and wonderful) bonus of physical affection. Okay, so I'm being coy. But that affection and concern are always there, like a bass-line, and have been for years. Why? I don't know.

I've been writing a lot of love poetry, so the inevitable "lookee, see what I did" poem follows...it's called:

You

I am amazed at you

Shoulders

Toes

Nose

Ass

Earlobes

Cock

The tattoo that marches around your leg

Blue yellow wave that splashes

Through your skin.

Seven scales for seven years,

Four waves for your family.

Memory meets nostalgia,

And collides with now.

Flash shot picture/memory

You

Heavy-eyed with desire.

Otter-slick in the shower.

Licking my breast.

Asleep on my lap.

Laughing.

Grandfather�s gold watch.

A Winona.

Late that night,

After I came and came,

You slept.

Smoke-detector LED lit the room,

Green-lighting planes of your face,

Slopes of dark and verdant, that hint

At the light and the dark of you.

You are you,

And that is all I

Ever need.

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