Freeday 14 December 2001

Pic of the day: Who will watch the bright lights with me this night?

Hungry soul

Oh how, at the journey's end, I lie in the heat of the night;
feeling the heartache, wondering why,
I want a friend,
I want a friend to lie down beside me.
I want a friend, I want her now,
someone who knows what I mean when I say
that I need tender hands to hold me,
I need tender hands tonight;
Will you lay them on my shoulders,
will you lay them on my eyes?

Chris de Burgh, Tender Hands.

***

Lately I've been feeling kinda horny in my soul, if that makes any sense. My body just wants some peace and quiet, but the mind is sent spinning in erratic orbits by lust that ought to be physical but is not.

What my soul craves is not the momentous release, but the ongoing intimacy. The exchange of secrets that cannot truly be retold, the sharing of experiences as personal as they are universal. Not just action but interaction; not just a course of events but an intercourse, interwoven, shared.

Needless to say (to those who know me), this will not and cannot be. The path to there, if there ever was one, branched off far away in the mists of the past.

Nor would I likely be able to stick to it for long. This is not a core part of me, just a plug-in. Eh, clumsy wording there perhaps. It's not quite at the plugging level right now. What I mean is, it's a module of my personality that is not typical of me or important to me. So why is it suddenly flaring up now?

I wonder if it may be just the dying scream of that part of my life. Perhaps the relevant neurons in my brain flare up in a frenzy of signaling as they tumble into oblivion.

***

I guess I should qualify the "horny" part. Actual sex is not even on my wish list ... that's not quite what I want. (Though I guess it would have come up eventually, when long time had passed.) It's more in the "erotic play" category. You know, exploring and be explored, stuff like that. Chocolate sauce and whipped cream body paint, stuff like that. Pillow talk till 5 in the morning, long after anything has stopped making sense, stuff like that. Looking at bright lights together, like small children all over again.

All the fun stuff that could have been me, but that I chose out of my life when I turned my back on my humanity. Not that it would have happened anyway, but now at least I can imagine that it could have, if I had taken another path through life.

As it is, doing anything fun with anybody, no matter how innocent, is starting to seem like a hazy dream to me. I thought perhaps this would happen, eventually. Every round we go round, I get a bit closer to escape velocity. No, I'm not thinking about suicide! No, that's for those who are in pain. I don't want to die. I want to be born. To move on to the next stage in our development. In our growth. I want to Wake Up.

But still there is this human part of me, looking back. Well, keep dreaming, human. You won't find what you look for, and eventually you will give up. Already it's nothing more than just another novel, or a dream. A dream among other dreams. In my dreams I have lived so many other lives. Other names, other places, other families, jobs, friends, and yes, loves. Some of them I remember, others I have no doubt forgotten.

And such is life, like a dream it snares me and I forget who I am. It saturates my senses and overwhelms my mind. And yet in my forgetfulness there always remains something that remembers. Sometimes it seems so close. And even if sleep shall once again claim me, the next time I may wake for real and know who I am. And more.

***

Ship to shore -
Do you read me anymore?
This line is bad, and fading.
Ship to shore -
Answer my call!
Send me a signal,
A beacon to bring me home!

Chris de Burgh, Ship to Shore.