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another note to an old ex
Nov. 4th, 2008 12:31 pmI am disappointed for the loss of your letters. But gladdened by your kind words. This week opened up with sweet messages from my oldest and dearest. Do you know you were my first love? It seems so unlikely now, but I remember it so clearly. You were a 13-year-old girl's dream date, all soulful and effete, comparitively speaking. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one.
At risk of sounding like a Rob Reiner movie, you never feel that way twice, you know? God, I can barely remember how it felt. I'm not one to feel anything without some sort of interference from my inner voice along the way. You, a boy from college and the affair right before I met my husband, maybe the only times I've been unmitigated by my inner dialogue. 13, 19 and 28. Perhaps cliche times to go through such things. Makes me think it was more about what was going on in my life rather than being about the objects of my affection. Anyway, nothing you don't already know, I'm sure.
Perhaps that's the reason you like to watch. I like to watch me too. I've got a play by play that would knock your socks off. It's not a bad way to go, mostly, since it's an aspect of something I like about myself, the way I tend to see through to the center of something. I don't often get confused by details or distractions. Of course, like all things, there are negatives. E.g., I don't experience things directly often enough, as I mentioned, and I don't deal well with details and distractions when these things are important. And I am jealous of but not patient with people who do.
How am I stitched together? How am I seen (or received)? You're one of the few people who may actually have the information and insight to tell me something useful.
Several of my long-running friends don't believe I haven't changed measurably. They point as proof to the way people interact with me differently than they used to. And, perhaps I have gotten better about offering what is desired rather than what is good. It's been a struggle, doing that. My folks think it's an improvement, but it makes me feel judgmental, to be easy rather than good. It means that I _deem_ people all the time. I think about what I think they want, rather than allowing them to react to me without veils. It makes me more likeable, unquestionably, and I do try to look for signs of judging inaccurately. still. It's a struggle between feeling compassionate (by offering easily digested bits) and feeling judgmental (by not allowing for people to surprise me with their clarity). I haven't decided about all of this. That's a roundabout way of saying that I haven't changed either, though some poeple think I have.
But which is more kind do you think?
Also, there are no better compliments than clear and clean. I strive for that, though I'm not sure this note will bear out as well as the previous one. I'm sure not.
A wheat allergen, you know, it's not the first time I've found that. My old friend CJ also avoided wheat for a long time, though I think it was in response to repetitive motion stress rather than afternoon energy. In any case, I'm curious about the change. In our intervening years, I met someone who convinced me that physiology in large part determines person. It surprised me, Lady Miss Brain in a Vat. I shudder to think about chemicals and networks taking away what I think of as mine. But I've relaxed into it slowly and now I'm rather comfortable with the idea. I still get nervous thinking about estrogen and feminism, but these are not static things, so I try not to take them personally.
You'd think I'd be more comfortable with all of this, after the way my mother's years-long pain undermined her power and the way my brother's allergies had him alternately sleepy and unstill.
It's not to compare poverty. People are impoverished in their own special ways, I've found. One of my newer close friends grew up with every Gunne Sax dress her heart desired and private school and the monthly trip to pay off the store credit card debt. She's only at 30-31-32 beginning to understand how money works. I've watched her grow away from her instincts, which is hard for anyone. Me, I'm risk averse for the most obvious reasons. My brothers and I are Captains Risk in every aspect except where money is concerned. There we cower. Adrian somewhat less so because he did not experience the worst years, no heat in winter and pancakes for dinner for weeks.
I like that, "I am more American than Un." I feel that every time I leave New York. I feel positively patriotic whenever I leave the country. But that, coupled with, sadly, growing cynicism. It leaves me running between ideas of my nationality. I spoke to my mother about this last night. 51% of us, and Liberia beats us out by a long stretch. Liberia! I try not to be down on us, but it's hard in light of hundreds of years of slippage. I think we started with a right idea, and for good and kind and right reasons, have ended up in a place hard to swallow. This is why I look to justice rather than kindness. Just is not always kind, I well know. But years of kindness have made justice loopholes so big that it isn't hard for bad to go to much worse when the chips are down.
Whenever I get sad about all of this, I go to Chinatown. No one takes to freedom and capitalism and democracy and chaos like former communists. It's a weird communitarian chaotic version of freedom, I find it completely frightening and wonderful. I feel like Americans became cowardly about really stupid things like throwing your hat into the ring and arguing over what you agree on and seeing options instead of limitations. Chinatown is the opposite. It reminds me of my mental image of golden age Amsterdam. or really, any modern merchantile culture.
If you send me something, you must let me send you something. My guess is that I would have very little idea of what is useful to you. You've already seen pictures of Linus, maybe a book (but you can always pick stuff up at the library). is there anything you can think of that would make your life a little more comfortable? Do let me know, as it's only fair.I don't wish to burden you with stuff that will merely take up space.
I don't know if I told you, but I spent a week or two with Josh, a few years ago. We talked about you a little, about our shared history. He had DECIDED on something as he does every few years and had toyed with the idea of including me in that decision. It wasn't really serious I don't think; like most if not all of my suitors from my youth, I am merely the gender-correct, age-appropriate instance in the class of Warnock-Grahams. As it was only a toy, I considered it for a second. You know me well enough to know that I consider everything, even impossible things, just to make sure they are truly impossible. It took me a year to consider it, but I did. It feels like a confession to tell you that. In the end, there was too much darkness, even though I was going through my cliche 30s thing.
Maybe a friendship could be enough? Maybe not it turned out and I'm glad about that and I think so is he. But oddly, DARKNESS was the word that came to me. What do you think of that? It was only an intuition, not based on any actual or at least recent experience.I was always attracted to both of you, the two of you together even, the way you were with each other. You both have this nomadic quality, this sort of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thing. He's more presentable than you are (at least that's my impression, what do I know about presentability), but there is a darkness that I can't see around. Or maybe darkness like a Tiamat kind of thing, the darkness of empty.
I'm curious to know what you think. Ordinarily I would not keep a friend about whom I had these thoughts, but he has a curious loyalty to me and I cannot shake the feeling that perhaps my internal description of him is getting in the way of my understanding.
When we were young, I wondered what you saw in him. You are not a saint, but I've known you to be pushing back on darkness. You are as close to light as I know. I'm not usually this jumbled, which is why I wonder.
You are lovely.
At risk of sounding like a Rob Reiner movie, you never feel that way twice, you know? God, I can barely remember how it felt. I'm not one to feel anything without some sort of interference from my inner voice along the way. You, a boy from college and the affair right before I met my husband, maybe the only times I've been unmitigated by my inner dialogue. 13, 19 and 28. Perhaps cliche times to go through such things. Makes me think it was more about what was going on in my life rather than being about the objects of my affection. Anyway, nothing you don't already know, I'm sure.
Perhaps that's the reason you like to watch. I like to watch me too. I've got a play by play that would knock your socks off. It's not a bad way to go, mostly, since it's an aspect of something I like about myself, the way I tend to see through to the center of something. I don't often get confused by details or distractions. Of course, like all things, there are negatives. E.g., I don't experience things directly often enough, as I mentioned, and I don't deal well with details and distractions when these things are important. And I am jealous of but not patient with people who do.
How am I stitched together? How am I seen (or received)? You're one of the few people who may actually have the information and insight to tell me something useful.
Several of my long-running friends don't believe I haven't changed measurably. They point as proof to the way people interact with me differently than they used to. And, perhaps I have gotten better about offering what is desired rather than what is good. It's been a struggle, doing that. My folks think it's an improvement, but it makes me feel judgmental, to be easy rather than good. It means that I _deem_ people all the time. I think about what I think they want, rather than allowing them to react to me without veils. It makes me more likeable, unquestionably, and I do try to look for signs of judging inaccurately. still. It's a struggle between feeling compassionate (by offering easily digested bits) and feeling judgmental (by not allowing for people to surprise me with their clarity). I haven't decided about all of this. That's a roundabout way of saying that I haven't changed either, though some poeple think I have.
But which is more kind do you think?
Also, there are no better compliments than clear and clean. I strive for that, though I'm not sure this note will bear out as well as the previous one. I'm sure not.
A wheat allergen, you know, it's not the first time I've found that. My old friend CJ also avoided wheat for a long time, though I think it was in response to repetitive motion stress rather than afternoon energy. In any case, I'm curious about the change. In our intervening years, I met someone who convinced me that physiology in large part determines person. It surprised me, Lady Miss Brain in a Vat. I shudder to think about chemicals and networks taking away what I think of as mine. But I've relaxed into it slowly and now I'm rather comfortable with the idea. I still get nervous thinking about estrogen and feminism, but these are not static things, so I try not to take them personally.
You'd think I'd be more comfortable with all of this, after the way my mother's years-long pain undermined her power and the way my brother's allergies had him alternately sleepy and unstill.
It's not to compare poverty. People are impoverished in their own special ways, I've found. One of my newer close friends grew up with every Gunne Sax dress her heart desired and private school and the monthly trip to pay off the store credit card debt. She's only at 30-31-32 beginning to understand how money works. I've watched her grow away from her instincts, which is hard for anyone. Me, I'm risk averse for the most obvious reasons. My brothers and I are Captains Risk in every aspect except where money is concerned. There we cower. Adrian somewhat less so because he did not experience the worst years, no heat in winter and pancakes for dinner for weeks.
I like that, "I am more American than Un." I feel that every time I leave New York. I feel positively patriotic whenever I leave the country. But that, coupled with, sadly, growing cynicism. It leaves me running between ideas of my nationality. I spoke to my mother about this last night. 51% of us, and Liberia beats us out by a long stretch. Liberia! I try not to be down on us, but it's hard in light of hundreds of years of slippage. I think we started with a right idea, and for good and kind and right reasons, have ended up in a place hard to swallow. This is why I look to justice rather than kindness. Just is not always kind, I well know. But years of kindness have made justice loopholes so big that it isn't hard for bad to go to much worse when the chips are down.
Whenever I get sad about all of this, I go to Chinatown. No one takes to freedom and capitalism and democracy and chaos like former communists. It's a weird communitarian chaotic version of freedom, I find it completely frightening and wonderful. I feel like Americans became cowardly about really stupid things like throwing your hat into the ring and arguing over what you agree on and seeing options instead of limitations. Chinatown is the opposite. It reminds me of my mental image of golden age Amsterdam. or really, any modern merchantile culture.
If you send me something, you must let me send you something. My guess is that I would have very little idea of what is useful to you. You've already seen pictures of Linus, maybe a book (but you can always pick stuff up at the library). is there anything you can think of that would make your life a little more comfortable? Do let me know, as it's only fair.I don't wish to burden you with stuff that will merely take up space.
I don't know if I told you, but I spent a week or two with Josh, a few years ago. We talked about you a little, about our shared history. He had DECIDED on something as he does every few years and had toyed with the idea of including me in that decision. It wasn't really serious I don't think; like most if not all of my suitors from my youth, I am merely the gender-correct, age-appropriate instance in the class of Warnock-Grahams. As it was only a toy, I considered it for a second. You know me well enough to know that I consider everything, even impossible things, just to make sure they are truly impossible. It took me a year to consider it, but I did. It feels like a confession to tell you that. In the end, there was too much darkness, even though I was going through my cliche 30s thing.
Maybe a friendship could be enough? Maybe not it turned out and I'm glad about that and I think so is he. But oddly, DARKNESS was the word that came to me. What do you think of that? It was only an intuition, not based on any actual or at least recent experience.I was always attracted to both of you, the two of you together even, the way you were with each other. You both have this nomadic quality, this sort of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thing. He's more presentable than you are (at least that's my impression, what do I know about presentability), but there is a darkness that I can't see around. Or maybe darkness like a Tiamat kind of thing, the darkness of empty.
I'm curious to know what you think. Ordinarily I would not keep a friend about whom I had these thoughts, but he has a curious loyalty to me and I cannot shake the feeling that perhaps my internal description of him is getting in the way of my understanding.
When we were young, I wondered what you saw in him. You are not a saint, but I've known you to be pushing back on darkness. You are as close to light as I know. I'm not usually this jumbled, which is why I wonder.
You are lovely.
