May 26th 2008
myspace message from me
I think I’m jealous of your wounds. I mean, I’m not jealous of them, as in “wow, I sure wish I were one of those scratch marks on Stefan’s back” (though, come to think of it, that might be amazing fun)…. but, I think they’d be nice to have. Happy reminders. Tiny secret bloody smiles.
Eh.
My opinion of you hasn’t changed. I just talk too much… in my attempts to cover all bases possible.
Aaaaaaand.
I want ice cream so very desperately.
Aaaaand.
When next you end up visiting me. We must remember. To order a steak to go. And try to see if we can attack each other while tearing at the steak with our teeth without biting off each other’s tounges.
…..
Do you think sexual energy works like… a bottle of carbonated liquid? That people who paw and coo and smooch and do any number of disgusting little public displays of affection just… slowly let the air out all day long? Kill the sparkley wonder?
Gosh, what a silly metaphor.
I just mean… it looks like they kill the thrill of it all. They mixed all thier colors to a bland pastel.
Maybe. That’s why. We work so well as awesome friends. Because. Like you said, we’ve many different modes. Our palatte is kept mostly separate. Some of the primary pigments may have combined forces, but only to mix colors of equal intensity….crimson and yellow create the glow of fire; the greens and blues a serene sort of moonlit forest…. but our warm tones, cool tones, white, and black… they all stay in thier own areas…. don’t muddy the technicolor glory… don’t lessen the vibrancy. We get to live in a land of vivid hues. We get to exist on a 60’s Star Trek set.
(Ha ha ha ha… i wonder if there are colors attributed to different vibration frequency…. Maybe the wash of various colors that my mind colorizes our sex with… is all dependant on how much you make me tremble.)
I think we instinctively paint ourselves in complimentary colors to one another.
I do enjoy the colors of your pallette.
May 27th 2008
Myspace Message from Stefan
I found a neato pic from the third floor of your house…..as you may have noticed…..with a tad of tweakery…..it showcased a very intense opposition of temperatures. so it was a good visual companion for the “what goes on inside is very different from outside”,type metaphor thing i was spewing……eh.
Myspace Message from me
Dear favorite human:
Since it’s that day you don’t celebrate, and you did ask for just nice things written for the next few days, I’d like to send you some rambling, (uncharacteristically sugary perhaps) nice words. But between the heat and the pain, I’m feeling rather less than eloquent.
I want to thank you for lots of things.
And I’d been trying for a while, there…
But really, most aren’t word-friendly. Most would come out in the wrong shape and size. Most, I don’t think there are real words for. So the backspace ate them all.
……
I think I should go and carve a giant lemur out of stainless steel. Using only my fingers and teeth.
Yesssss. That’s something a bit…. up to par.
… the only way I can think to put this is something that struck a chord in me years ago. Learning about the philosophy of Plato. Our class was asked a simple question: “what is a bed?” Yes, I know, this all sounds kinda stupid. But. The students raised thier hands and answered things like “a bed is something you sleep on” – but there are beds that are never slept on, people eat in bed, watch TV in bed, have sex in bed – “beds are a rectangular frame, a boxspring, and mattress” – but there are circular beds, water beds, woven mat beds, animal beds of earth and twigs – etc etc etc… it went on for about a half an hour, this attempt to determine what a bed IS.
And the point that was being made was that…. there is a quality of “bedness” (for lack of a better term) that cannot be explained or pinned down. It’s there, it exists, this quality something has to make it a bed, but it’s nearly undefineable, aside from the fact that some things are beds, and some things are not. And everything…. has this.
People… have thier own qualities of ….. i don’t know… “themself-ness”. It’s the actual WHO that lives underneath the shell…. beneath all the job titles, degrees, dirty pasts, roles played, physique, income, etc.
and THAT is what gives people thier own worth. Worth? That’s not a good word for it. It brings to mind dollar signs. It brings to mind, again, something quantifiable. It’s not. It’s just THERE. It’s got it’s own variety of hues… it’s own strange song… it’s own intricate delicate patterns….
I mean, there are countless examples throughout history… throughout Hollywood even…. of people looking aghast at some well bred, old money, highly educated person willingly giving up the family inheritence to marry some…. scullery maid. or cobbler. Or something.
I suppose… there is a certain type of “better” that can exist on that level, but that’s more based on personal preference. Whether a person likes squares or circles more. Or if the cracked and broken edges of two people line up like archeologist’s unearthed museum fragments.
On my own personal note…. I spent a whole lot of time in my head, grilling and interrogating, questioning and cross questioning…… all to determine if your importance in my world was over-exaggerated…. skewed…. by the general lack of people in my life. But I realised…. that such is not the case. As I’d mentioned before… you’d raised the bar. I don’t mean it in a… young woman stepping up to COLLEGE men and suddenly those highschool boys don’t rate….. You raised the bar with your…. quality of Stef-ness. Even if I had a whole brood of compatriots out here, it’d by no means lessen…. how much I like the colors of your palette. Actually, you’d probably just stand out more against the sea of grey.
Myspace message from Stefan
You make sense…..as you often do.
…..and your kinds words are warm & thought provoking……as they often are.
…yet…..as interesting as the Plato conversation was…….I most likely wouldv’e left the room listening to everyone discuss it.
…..
…….i don’t quite understand why you want to help me make sense of why I hate what i hate anyway…….but it’s very clear to me….I don’t need assistance….I just need to think like everyone else and be sorta shallow and do some drugs………………then the pain should float away.
……….if my thoughts bother everyone so much……..mabye a drug induced coma will relieve them of all of the pain of my opinions.
……you are a nice person………..I am not. I don’t know what else to say.
……..I don’t understand the way you see people…..or the way anyone sees people. ……..and I can’t even try to fathom why you’d refer to me as your,”favorite human”,,,,,,…….i don’t even feel human.
……….i’m fuckin’ miserable……………a miserable asshole.
……..i don’t want to celebrate my own birthday because I don’t feel I deserve anything…….I cleary hate myself……..I wish I could feel the way you feel about people.
……talk highly about strangers on the street and people I never met with such intriguing personal emotion……..I couldn’t even imagine.
……how are you that forgiving?
……..I’m too rotten to have feelings like that. I guess.
……..probably from my time living on the street.
……it ruined me.
……………….to me Rach……a bed……..is a fuckin enemy.
…….it’s just a reminder that I can’t get any rest.
…….hopefully…. can make some money this week and I will allow you to make me cupcakes and sit there and like it. …..i like you enough to let you give me cupcakes.
P.S.help me…….i’m losing my mind and patience.
P.S.S. It’s obviously dangerous replying to my bulletins and thoughts these days…….yet you go against the grain and do it anyway………I always press send and hope to god I didn’t insult you………because I’m never meaning to…. but my words are written carelessly and angry.
I’m sorry.
I’ll all high strung and a wreck……..I need relief……..something.
I hate my mind.
myspace message from me
I should have been writing the other things that go through my head int the wee hours….
Like my amazement at how… I can sleep with you. I mean, actually sleep. While touching. Just the feeling, or sound, of someone’s breath would drive me batty. someone’s touch would make me feel claustrophobic. And these days, sinking my memory back…. to your warmth next to mine… is my personal lullabye these wide eyed mornings.
Eh. I don’t even know if you want to hear these kinds of things from me anymore.
I probably should remain quiet.
myspace message from stefan