post coming
I am always drowsy
dreamy and pliant
and...
I don't mind then
that you called me
another girls name,
it was only Sasha
and I see her movies,
see her enjoyment
and i know why
you want her.
29 September 2010
16 September 2010
Picking at scabs
Is it a crack in my heretofore steely carapace? Maybe he wonders that. Tell the truth, I remembered that I had "accidentally" mailed him today only when I was orgasming by myself a few moments ago. How bad does that sound? It is 44 days since I last contacted him.
I forwarded on a "funny" e-mail to the old distribution list today. It wasn't automatic, I added [first name]-ex-boss and [first name]-customer-guy and as his first name is the same my pernicious e-mail records flashed his name to me too. And I thought, What the hell, and added his name to the list (they were all in blind copy so no-one will know but me)
And I forgot about it.
I had a busy day at work and then [writer-guy] mailed me to talk about his cock and my cunt and how nice it would be if they were flowing in each others general direction, and I had a busy and almost productive day at work and felt useful and valuable. And my friend needed my help tonight.
A minor physical task, bringing her something she had left behind in the office, but I did it and I felt useful and valuable all over again, right up until I got home and my internet is still not working. A red winking dot signifying my cut-offness from the internet world. From my friends and family in other countries, which is most of them. My inability to speak the local language means I have no chance of putting this right without asking someone for help; and then I ponder why do I find it so fucking hard to do that? My friend who I helped earlier would be quite happy to help me out the same way if I were to only ask.
I would have to tidy up before she came around though; keep her from seeing my soul-dustbin flat. And I wonder, is this the reason I want a partner, someone to do the chores, or at least someone that I could share chores with; someone to make me feel gracious about doing them and I could kid myself on that I was useful and valuable for doing them? And hey, I have gone off topic again, take that, ex-[first name].
Is it me or is coming and crying at the same time a known buzz? Perhaps I am just using it to heighten emotions. I wonder if he has checked his secret e-mail account and is sat there pondering whether, no, what to reply. I have worked my answer out though. "Ooops, sorry, used old distribution list!" to whatever he replies. That statement alone.
Of course, I may think differently if, like last time, he says I was watching for your mail every day, so glad to hear from you. But I shouldn't say anything different. Flaunt the mask of indifference at him. Good the internet is down now, otherwise I would have to check... Except I forgot earlier, when I mailed [writer-guy] instead. In some strange value table, attention from [writer-guy], someone I shall probably never meet in real life, is more important than attention from ex-[first name]. I suppose I should take this as a good sign, of recovery, of equilibrium, but I fear to get caught in a new obsession.
I forwarded on a "funny" e-mail to the old distribution list today. It wasn't automatic, I added [first name]-ex-boss and [first name]-customer-guy and as his first name is the same my pernicious e-mail records flashed his name to me too. And I thought, What the hell, and added his name to the list (they were all in blind copy so no-one will know but me)
And I forgot about it.
I had a busy day at work and then [writer-guy] mailed me to talk about his cock and my cunt and how nice it would be if they were flowing in each others general direction, and I had a busy and almost productive day at work and felt useful and valuable. And my friend needed my help tonight.
A minor physical task, bringing her something she had left behind in the office, but I did it and I felt useful and valuable all over again, right up until I got home and my internet is still not working. A red winking dot signifying my cut-offness from the internet world. From my friends and family in other countries, which is most of them. My inability to speak the local language means I have no chance of putting this right without asking someone for help; and then I ponder why do I find it so fucking hard to do that? My friend who I helped earlier would be quite happy to help me out the same way if I were to only ask.
I would have to tidy up before she came around though; keep her from seeing my soul-dustbin flat. And I wonder, is this the reason I want a partner, someone to do the chores, or at least someone that I could share chores with; someone to make me feel gracious about doing them and I could kid myself on that I was useful and valuable for doing them? And hey, I have gone off topic again, take that, ex-[first name].
Is it me or is coming and crying at the same time a known buzz? Perhaps I am just using it to heighten emotions. I wonder if he has checked his secret e-mail account and is sat there pondering whether, no, what to reply. I have worked my answer out though. "Ooops, sorry, used old distribution list!" to whatever he replies. That statement alone.
Of course, I may think differently if, like last time, he says I was watching for your mail every day, so glad to hear from you. But I shouldn't say anything different. Flaunt the mask of indifference at him. Good the internet is down now, otherwise I would have to check... Except I forgot earlier, when I mailed [writer-guy] instead. In some strange value table, attention from [writer-guy], someone I shall probably never meet in real life, is more important than attention from ex-[first name]. I suppose I should take this as a good sign, of recovery, of equilibrium, but I fear to get caught in a new obsession.
11 September 2010
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