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10:14 a.m. - 2003-06-12
lived in splendor, died in chaos
sometimes i think that the incidence of punishment for doing shitty things is about equal to that of doing good things. which kinda begs the question of why i keep putting myself out in order to help other people.

i guess it's some sort of sick gratification. a sense of moral superiority? just plain boredom? i don't know.

in my dreams i wandered through the east end, abandoned warehouses and streets lit by neon and wet reflections and flashing lights. in a building standing alone i tried to find an old friend, but was met through the first set of steel doors by a stranger with a gun. well. strange. does it get a whole lot stranger than vin diesel? my friend's old warehouse had been turned into an uber-cool loft, all concrete and dark tones and low mod furniture. and all i wanted was a handful of poppy seeds, to grow himalayan blue poppies.

i'm trying so hard to understand the things that motivate me and the things that i want, instead of just responding, blindly, to events and motivators. i think i'm stretching myself too thin, trying to find meaning. trying to give myself value by the value i give to others.

one of the things that i treasure so much about my relationship with sandy is that it is entirely without expectations. like ben, sandy knows the parts of me i hate as well as the parts i love, and he loves me anyway. somehow, his lack of expectation and lack of demand make it easier for me to want to give him as much as i can. years ago, i remember lying awake with him one night, while he expressed misgvings about our friendship... he said, without pride or conceit, that he was afraid i would fall in love with him, or expect to much, and somehow get hurt, and i remember how i had, secretly, perhaps feared the same thing - and how easy it was to assure him that, while i did, and do, and will, love him, i really, really don't want to have his babies... time spent with sandy is time spent outside the world of hatred and jealousy and petty thought, with someone who loves me exactly as i am, no matter what state that might be. and while i feel that there are a number of people in my life for whom i have such love, there aren't many, outside of family, that i feel it from.

it makes everything else that much easier.

*lived in splendor, died in chaos*

love comes up in my thoughts, in my dreams.

in this apocolyptic world storms rage around us and the waves rise like skyscrapers while the skyscrapers surge and topple like waves. flames and smoke and the promise of death surround us and he dives off the disintegrating bridge into the grey water far below.

i have no choice but to follow.

under the water i find him, and i know it's over before it began.

somehow i know that i loved him more than my own life, and the empty space he leaves behind is too much to comprehend.

dreams like this are more exhausting than not sleeping at all.

 

 

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