‘For a man only has to be turned around once with his eyes closed in this world, to be lost’. – Thoreau
Thank you for your kind words.
I realised today how I have been having this conversation that I have been lucky enough to have with you, alone, for quite a few years now.
That day I stumbled out of my boy’s house, six years ago, never to return or to speak to him, since, left me bereft. I don’t miss the ‘relationship’ . You are right to avoid those. I miss that conversation, the sharing of ideas and actual changing of our consciousness. I knew, even as I walked out of his door, that I would be hard pressed to encounter anyone else who I could speak to like that again. When I look back on our time together, I cannot remember which ideas I got from books, journals, his essays, my essays, or just through talking. ‘The reader is the writer’ was one of his favourite phrases. But in our case, the lovers were the readers were the writers. We always said we would write something together, but alas we never did.
It is bitter sweet to be able to re-connect with this kind of discussion that strikes my interest and my experience at the very heart. I missed the dialogue and was unable to process my thoughts so well alone. But now I also miss my boy once again. I hope he is all right, and has even found someone else to talk to on this level. And it’s left me reminded of what an unusual girl I am. I pretended for a while, to be quite the ‘woman’. I tried to fuck my way out of my grief, and it nearly worked as well.
But life has a habit of catching up with us. I am so relieved that it has done so via, in part, a conversation with you.
and still very much an alien,