I'm tired and about 100 mosquitos bit me today.

It was not my explicit choice to get thrown back into the pool of youthful discovery and engagement but here I am. My friend's keep getting younger because the world seems to pair off at a certain point. You are either spinning out of control or tethered to the anchor of love.

Selenite for the new millenium

Plasma beings. Wizards. You.

Three years ago this night you

entered the metaphysical realm

of all things beyond comprehension.

Stay close to me.

4/17/07

Hola mi preciosa Eleni,

I'm hope for a nap. Home = your bed; about as close as it comes to anything proper. I looked through your stack of photos. I love how you see, what catches your eye. You are so strong and beautiful. I worry about money and work...
I'm very jealous at times, and I don't like that about myself. I guess I'm just trying to take care of my heart, because I know just how enthusiastic I am, how quickly I jump into things. ?Who are these two fellows? The one with the cigarette is an X I think. I noticed he has a ring where a marriage band would be. You mentioned once that I seem to view all your X's as bad guys who mistreated you or something. I guess I hope to treat you the best. I also hope to be treated well by you, and I am.
The best way: not babied, but challenged and trusted; there is so much I wish to say to you. I want it all! To know you, share with you... not just today and forward into the many days that lie before us, but also into the past. ?Is this silly? That when you speak of past good times, that I wish I could have been there (this is a nice pen: I'd like one for myself) That when I look at photos of you, I wish I was the one there taking them, following them by a kiss. That when you speak of hard times, confusing times, times when you're --> ---> ----> -----> -------> ------->

Le Sigh

I'm pouting. You know why.

March 31, 2013

This bartender has your eyes.
This bartender at the Best Western
in the French Quarter smiles your toothy smile.
This bartender who made me a margarita and served it in the nicest glass.
Ty from Belize. Raised in New Orleans.
I could take him home easy and pretend he was you.
Fall in love. Pick up the story where you and I left off.
He'd be none the wiser.
Wondering why I treat him so well.
What did he do to deserve such a woman like me?
I just want to stare at him and look into your eyes
living once again.

!!!!

Sputter and splat.

Off and on

I wonder if this will ever get old. I think because we're rounding the three year mark, things are beginning to feel dated in a way that makes me sad. The impact of your death on my life is changing. I'm not as motivated to honor you in ways that now seem contrived or expected. In a sense, I'm critiquing the modes in which I operate under. This expectation to keep your memory alive is something I have placed on myself. I'm operating from places of guilt, bitterness, envy, and loneliness. What does it all mean? Is there an ending? How do I keep this going? I love you so very much. How will I continue to honor you? Will it always be public? Will you eventually just occupy a place in my private mind? I miss your energy. I miss your presence. You you you you you you.